AN: This is the rapey, gorey chapter. You've been warned.

That Which We Forgot

November 03, 13,012

She was dreaming, again. The knight in tarnished armor was there. The pale, winged demon, too, with a face eerily similar to the Hunter, but altogether different. Dressed in armor black as pitch that tainted the air and sucked the life from the plants at its feet.

No, there were no flowers this time.

Fields aflame spread their taint.

Skies aflame.

Yet somehow, just as dark as the dripping armor encasing the demon.

She was swept away in a flood of… was it water?

Blood.

She was choking on it. Lungs crying for air but receiving only the clabbered substance. An ocean, filled with stolen life. And the demon was its source. Floating in the near-endless expanse of vermillion liquid.

And she was still drowning, clawing for what she was sure was up. Surely, that light must be the sun.

The moon?

The fires?

She didn't care. So long as she reached it soon.

But fingers struck glass.

Turned to sludge and collapsed with the force.

Flesh blackening and sloughing off abnormally pliant bone like clay beneath a child's hands.

And the painfully strong blood absorbed it.

Consumed it.

Phantom fingers clawing.

Tearing.

Devouring.

Left leg.

Left eye.

Panic gripped a failing heart.

Suddenly, she was falling through heavy clouds of smoke. Burning. Choking on fire and almost wishing it was the blood. If for no other reason than to soothe the burn. But something glimmered through the soot surrounding her. A shining beacon, so to speak.

The Tarnished Knight.

He stood tall, feet planted firmly on the ash hanging in the air, armored and adorned head angled down. If she had to guess, he was glaring daggers at the demon beneath the crimson glass. But she didn't have time to ruminate the possibilities. Her fall was coming to an end.

The ocean rushing to meet her.

If she broke through the heaving glass, would that demon escape? Would he devour her? Rend her flesh and pluck her soul from the tattered remains of a doll well-used?

The flutter of wings.

The Hunter stared at the girl in his arms. Glazed, bright blue eyes stared back.

They didn't just stare. They narrowed in agitation and she seemed to be studying the air surrounding him. His aura. She clucked her tongue in distaste. "The Prince wishes to know, but the Prince can't know what isn't known. Maybe not a Prince. A success? Where does that leave me? An affront to nature. A… not Human? Super Human? Not super. Not…"

She trailed off, eyes unfocused and breath harsh. Body rigid. If it weren't for Hand's quiet quip, he might've been standing there, mouth agape, shocked into a momentary lapse of character. This was not what he expected when he first saw their blood mix and sink back into her wound.

Not that he'd expected that.

She suddenly went limp, jolting in his hold as he lowered them to the ground. "I'm forgettin', again. Was I even rememberin'? No. Jus' sinkin'. Burnin'. Drownin'. Wings o'… starched lace?" Her face scrunched up. "I'm… forgettin', again. Was I even rememberin'? No. Jus'… sinkin'."

There didn't seem to be many dull moments with this girl around. But the entire situation expounded on the idea that she was, indeed, not Human. Even if she was, it was only in part. However, now was not the time to unravel this mystery. He needed to tend to her wounds and –

"We need to get the hell outta Dodge before our friends draw in more!"

Again, impeccable timing, Hand.

But as he drew back, he realized there was no need to fetch the bandages. If not for the blood smeared across her pale flesh, one would never guess she'd been wounded. They might even deduce that it wasn't hers. And without looking, he could hazard a guess that her leg was likely healed, as well.

Far off in the twilight, he heard a howl.

If these were cycle-bound shifters, there wasn't much worry. But if they were being drawn in by the carnage, it was likely others would come calling.

Leaving the girl there, D flew through the motions of saddling the antsy steed and securing the lantern. Stuffing her dress into a saddle bag and all but slinging Krista on as he mounted. It wasn't that he wouldn't be able to handle the threats coming their way, but…

His dark eyes flickered to the strange girl bouncing limply about as the horse galloped across the sands. He wasn't about to put her danger-prone self needlessly in the path of more danger. And thus, they flew like a bat out of Hell.

By midday, Krista was flailing and squawking, a slew of curses and disoriented babbling bubbling past her lips. But she couldn't really help herself, not with the sun decidedly trying to bake her and her mind telling her that she was back in that fiery field, burning alive and wishing she could be swept away with the flood of blood.

Blood that was strong, heady. Filled with spice and vim and vigor.

Something within her craved another taste.

Begged for it.

She didn't realize the Hunter had halted the horse and dismounted until she realized she was reaching for empty air. Quivering fingers outstretched for the spot D once resided. And there she sat, frozen, before abashedly slapping the extended hand across her face. Rubbing hard and moaning. Head throbbing.

Had she been reaching for the Hunter's arm? Intending to get that second taste? Or was it third?

'Bloody Hell. What's wrong with me?' She smacked lightly, tongue feeling dry and foreign in her mouth. Nasty. Maybe she just needed a drink. "D?" she croaked. "Do we have any water left?"

An insulated canteen pressed into her clammy hands. And despite the water inside being disgustingly warm, it was still cooler than it could have been given the circumstances. For this, she was grateful. But as her eyes twitched to gaze up at the stoic man, she found herself flinching back. That voice screeching, 'Don't trust him!'

'And why the hell not?!' she mentally hissed back.

It was silent for a good minute before finally admitting, 'I can't… remember.'

Well, there was no way she was going to give up on a good thing without a solid reason. This Hunter was the last person in her life she found she could trust. It was likely she'd be hard pressed to ever lose it. In fact, her mind turned to the previous night. Her mouth filling with blood that tasted so good –

No.

A rough, not necessarily unpleasant, shiver ran down her spine. No, she needed to apologize properly. She passed the canteen back into his hands. "D, I'm sorry, again, that I bit you. I don't know why, but I honestly thought you were one of those beasts."

"Think nothing of it," he murmured.

"Well, I am. And I was thinking… an eye for an eye?"

With an inquisitive hum, he turned around to face the girl still stretched across the saddle. Of all things he expected, the soft brush of her fingers against his lips was not one. He tensed, hand snapping up to grip hers and distance himself.

Surely this girl was not serious?

No. Judging by the determined look in her steadily brightening eyes, she was entirely serious. And despite his almost painful hold on her wrist, she persisted. "Bein' a Damm… damn… uh…"

"Dhampir," he supplied.

"Yeah! A damper – "

"Dhampir!" Hand interjected.

"Daaaaammmmpurr…"

"Peer!"

"Dhampir?"

"Gods, yes!"

"… Right. So, bein' a damper – "

A frustrated screech interrupted her, and she merely chuckled, a mischievous look in her eyes. "Alright. Dhampir," she stressed. "Anyway, you bein' one, I figured that… if Nobles drink blood… Well, I haven't seen you eat anything since we teamed up. You even said you hadn't. So, if you bite me really, really hard… that will make up for me biting you…"

Krista trailed off, but it didn't take a genius to see where she was headed with this conversation. And as her small fingertips skimmed across his lips, once more, some dark part of him was certainly tempted by the offer. Teeth aching. Throat burning. Wondering if she would taste as sweet as she smells.

Instead, he metaphorically threw his hunger to the ground and stomped it into the dirt.

"Y'know… perhaps a simple 'no' would have sufficed?"

Or, perhaps he literally threw the source of his hunger to the ground?

A grunt and giggle escaped the girl as she struggled to right herself, small hands grasping at his coat and the nearby stirrup. She was weak. And she assumed it was from all the happenings. Maybe she needed to eat, again?

"D, seriously!" the girl moaned. "You gotta eat sometime! Do you filter feed?!"

The Hunter's lips quirked as he stared down at the girl that closely resembled a petulant child, her crimson hair a wind-whipped mess and near-gaunt cheeks puffed. It was a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black. Krista was so small, and he could almost swear she'd lost a tiny bit more since the beginning of their trip. If anyone needed to eat, it was her.

"Speaking of filter feeding, how do Nobles get blood? Do they have to cut everyone?"

D mounted the cybernetic steed as Hand replied, "Nah, kid. They bite to draw blood."

"Bite?" she intoned inquisitively, pulling herself up into the saddle but making it no further than her belly. She didn't seem inclined to sit properly, so he nudged the horse onward once she settled. And she snorted. "I can't imagine needin' to bite someone as hard as I had to bite D last night every time I got a bit peckish. Seems like an awful lot of trouble and a big mess just waitin' to happen."

The countenanced carbuncle chortled. "They have fangs. Really sharp and long canines."

"Wouldn't they just bite themselves? Sounds like a free lip or tongue piercing."

"I knew you were a bit in the dark, but this is just sad!"

Without retorting, Krista turned her attention to her hand. Specifically, the meaty section betwixt her thumb and forefinger. And after running her tongue across her teeth, she began the arduous task of attempting to draw blood. Chewing at the flesh in an attempt to understand.

It wasn't even her canines that drew first blood.

Jostled by the horse galumphing over uneven terrain, applying too much force in pressing her hand to her teeth instead of the other way around, it was her hand that drew first blood.

And D could smell it. Fixing her with a disapproving stare, he popped her back. It wasn't her fault she was so unknowledgeable. If she barely knew of their existence, how could she know the scent of blood could easily send a Noble or Dhampir with a lesser will into a frenzy? How was she to know that offering up her life source, even a paltry amount, could lead to an untimely demise?

But as she twisted to cast him a sheepish, bloody smile, he came to terms with the fact that the girl would likely bring about her own end.

"Kid… Did you really punch yourself in the face trying to figure it out?"

Pain. It seemed like it was something she was getting to know a little too intimately. That small throb she easily ignored when she first awoke turned into something ugly. Something akin to the strike of a sledgehammer. And she was certain it was trying to crack open her cranium in a bid to escape.

Hell, she wanted to escape. No amount of eye-covering and face-rubbing helped ease the pain, and even then, her arms were getting tired from holding her hands up. She couldn't duck into her cloak for too long. It was too hot. The sun's glare bouncing off the sand was too bright for simply closing her eyes. And with it hanging so low in the sky, raising her hood was no good. Maybe she could just hunch over with her arms braced against her thighs?

"Hurgh…" Nope. Too much pressure.

"You okay, kid?" Hand enquired. It wasn't hard for him or the Hunter to see she was distressed. But watching as she twitched and whimpered, fingers massaging at her neck, it was almost painful for him.

"I feel like… someone is trying to crack open my skull," she moaned softly. "The light hurts, too. This is, without a doubt, the worst headache I've ever had." And it was true. She'd never had one escalate this far.

"Sounds like a migraine."

Another groan. "I suppose. Good thing the sun is starting to set."

"Not quite yet," the Hunter breathed.

"But it's getting… darker?" Krista's head cocked to one side, and she did well to mask the discomfort the movement brought as she focused. "What is that noise?"

It was a deep, mournful sound that cut through the quiet. A tune one might expect to come of wind rushing by buildings and trees. Of glass wind bells chiming and dead leaves colliding and clattering down a cobblestone street. And the longer she focused on the sound, the louder it got. The harsher it became until it was something comparable to the roar of waves against a rocky cliff in a storm. Cannons firing and houses burning and plaster cracking and walls exploding and –

"Kid?"

The noise was gone, nothing left in its wake aside from the sting of claw marks marring her scalp. And a hand lightly grasping her shoulder.

With a shaky breath, Krista turned a watery smile towards the Hunter. Crimson fingertips trailing down her face until her arms fell limp at her sides. "I'm good?"

He didn't believe her. It wasn't difficult to see that hard edge to his gaze, but he didn't comment. Instead, he cast his attention back to the sands and veered the horse towards an unassuming divot in the landscape. He would thank his lucky stars if this proved to be what he hoped for. If not…

D nudged the beast onward. He would not enjoy running the beast to its death to evade the storm steadily eclipsing the sun.

"Is that… sand?" queried Krista.

Again, not quite.

The horse stamped at the divot, and a thin layer of sandstone crumbled in. And Krista watched nonplussed as the man cloaked in black flew off the back of the creature and disappeared with a loud clatter through the stone. Sand and dust clouding the vicinity.

She waited.

"Did the ground eat you?" she yelled, immediately regretting the action as her head pulsed angrily. But she pushed on. "Because, if you seriously flake out because you went crazy and flung yourself into a hole in the ground…" The girl didn't say it, but it was high on her list of 'shit that should not kill this man'. It was just absurd.

However, instead of a response, a shrill whistle pierced the quiet. The horse nickered and pranced in place. Shaking and stretching each leg. With no further warning, it reared back and dove towards the opening in the ground. Like a performer executing a graceful swan dive. But the performer was a gigantic horse.

A behemoth of a beast that decided to practically belly flop into a very dark hole in the earth.

The noise that fled Krista's mouth as they descended was painful, at best. For her and her companions. And the panicked sound bounced around the shallow cave she found herself in until it petered out into a pathetic, wheezy squeak.

"Welp," she yelped. "That was… an experience. Glad I'm here."

She didn't sound glad.

"Glad I had this experience."

Sarcasm. This was definitely sarcasm.

The Hunter merely watched as the girl lurched off the horse and peered up at the opening they'd burst through. Skies quickly darkening. And he was, indeed, thanking his stars for this shallow cave. Large enough to house the travelers and the steed, but not so deep he would need to fear something crawling out of the depths of the cave.

Well, unless something burrowed through the earth to reach them.

The probability of that happening was… low.

Maybe.

"So!" exclaimed Krista, face twisted into some awful combination of a grin and grimace. Perhaps just constipated. "What are we doing down here? Spelunking?"

"Evading the storm," replied the Hunter. Fingers carding through the mane of the steed, he gently guided it further into their dwelling. He could almost feel her curiosity hanging in the air, but instead…

"This is a really cute lizard."

… What?

"D, what kinda lizard is this? It's kinda long, and it's wiggling its tail at me."

A loud, girly squeal.

"Is it some freaky cross between a dog and a lizard?!"

The man in black was suddenly there, forcibly wrenching the large 'lizard' away from the girl. It snarled and snapped at him, but dangling by its striped tail, that was all it could manage. Aside from trailing bubbling acid along behind them.

"Is it a bad lizard?"

"Venomous."

Hand piped up. "They aren't usually the nicest thing to have around. And I'm kinda surprised it let you come so close. Maybe it's sick."

Coming to a halt at the 'mouth' of the 'cave', D waited. Head cocked to one side. It would be simple to flick his wrist and kill the creature. But he ran the risk of slinging its venom everywhere. Despite the girl's inhuman regeneration, he didn't want to see if she could keep her face from melting off.

Well, maybe a part of him did.

Said girl approached cautiously, once again wearing her ugly-as-sin dress. "Whatcha waitin' for? I mean, won't it just run back in on its stubby legs if you throw it out?"

"That's why we're waiting on the storm," supplied Hand.

"But it's just a sandstorm, isn't it?" she prodded, starting for the opening to peer out. "What good is that gonna do?"

Before she could get far, a strong hand clamped down upon her shoulder. The quiet howl became a fearsome roar, and he chucked the creature out the cave. Holding the girl still. Forcing her to watch as the sand consumed it. Flesh dehydrating and shredding as it twitched feebly beneath the storm's wrath.

Mouth agape with horror, Krista skittered back with an undignified squawk. "Yeah! Okay! That's… gnarly! Now I know why the towns have walls!" Hand shaking, she gave his arm a hearty pat. "I'll just… I'll just go curl up in the corner with the horse, now."

The Hunter watched as she did exactly that, knees pressed to her chest and chin cradled in their created groove. He couldn't necessarily blame her for her, almost, childlike reactions. But God, help him. At this rate, it appeared he would be teaching her more than her schooling did.

Honestly. Who looks at a girl and says, 'Keeping this knowledge from her is a good idea'? Who looks at anyone thinking such nonsense? It's not far from simply signing their death warrant.

Well… he doubted many of them were still alive.

Busying himself with removing the saddle and bags from the horse, D pushed everything to the back of his mind. At least, for a moment. Contending himself with taking stock of their medical supplies and such. Listening to the girl come out of her shell and mutter sweet words to the horse.

If not for the storm now raging outside the cave, it might have been fairly peaceful. A serene atmosphere that he might have taken a moment to enjoy.

Well, he supposed he could still enjoy it.

Parchment marked with possible necessities slipped into the folds of his coat as he settled himself against the cave wall. Positioned to clearly view the opening and keep an eye on his companions. And there he resided as night fell upon the desert, their shelter becoming darker than pitch.

The girl had long gone still, and he was left to assume she was sleeping. Possibly to sleep away her migraine. Even if she was awake, he doubted she would be protesting the dark.

She suddenly stirred. Pushed off from the wall and rose to her feet. Hands clamped down over her eyes as she stumbled across the cave. If he had to guess, she was in pain. An excruciating amount of it.

His hair stood on end, flesh puckered and crawling as he rose to halt her advance to the mouth of the cave. The air was heavy and charged. The closer he stepped to the red-head, the more his skin prickled. The feeling reminiscent to being lightly shocked. Or being too close to the strike of lightning.

Pressing against Krista's clammy forehead, Hand grumbled, "D, what the hell is goin' on?"

Honestly, as he pulled the shuddering frame close, he didn't have an answer for the creature residing in his hand. Only the assurance that he was just as in the dark (literally) as him.

"Mama?"

The voice, small and squeaky in an endearing and childlike way, bounced around the tastefully decorated, yet modest, entryway. The beige walls filling her with a sense of warmth. A sense of belonging that could only be described as home.

"Mama?" Krista called, again, taking a moment to admire the round clusters of pink and purple flowers occupying the vase on the table. "What did Mama call these? Rode… Rode-duh-doo… Ron-rons?"

"Din-druhns?"

"Close enough. Now, where's Mama?"

'Mama' was suddenly there, curls the color of midnight bouncing and swaying in time with her hurried steps as she snatched up a small hand and whisked the child down the hallway. Brows furrowed and almond-shaped eyes pinched with worry. But as the child queried where they were rushing to, she remained silent.

A wood door, dark and worn with age, met them at the end of their 'trip'. And it swung outward beneath the woman's hand with a painfully loud screech, hinges groaning from lack of use. The room beyond was musty and cool. Dark. Recessed a few steps into the ground, with only leveled earth as the floor. Much like an incomplete root cellar. The woman seemed pleased with its state, however, turning a decidedly grief-stricken look to the small child.

"What's wrong, Mama?"

The mother still did not answer. Merely smoothed out the pastel pink sundress the child wore and pulled her into a long, too-tight hug. "Remember what Daddy taught you about hiding?" Her voice was soft as she posed the question. A sweet, lilted tone.

And she knew it was a shame that such a sweet voice be warped by sadness. "Yes."

"Good. I need you to hide behind the crates. And don't come out for anyone," she stressed.

"Are you leaving?"

Again, no answer. But she pulled back and a bittersweet smile curled her thin, rosy lips. "Mama loves you," she breathed. "Bo-"

Anything she'd been about to say was interrupted by a thunderous crack.

The girl watched as amber eyes hardened, and with a soft shove, she was thrust into the storage room. Door slamming shut with an air of finality. And no matter how hard her tiny hands pushed against the wood, it did not budge. Did not give in to her soft sobs. Did not fall to her gut-wrenching wails. "Mama! Please come back!"

Minutes passed. She fell quiet, realizing the door could not be swayed, and threw herself to the ground. Wriggling around in the loose dirt until she was sufficiently covered, her once pretty dress looking like she'd scrounged around in the gutters for a living. From there, she flew to the back of the room and scrambled up the shelving there. Pressing herself into a space that should have been too small. Shoulders pinched uncomfortably between the wall and a crate.

Silence and dust alike settled about the room. In the cramped space, she pulled her knees to her chest. Calmed her breath. Fell unnaturally still as she strained to hear anything within the home.

Thump thump thump thump.

Soft, yet heavy footfalls rushing down the hallway. A distinct bare-skin-against-wood patter with each step. 'That's Daddy.'

More silence.

The shelving and crates lurched, the supporting wall heaving just before she heard the roar of… thunder? A cannon?

She couldn't tell, ears ringing as dust and bits of plaster showered her head. And she cried because she just knew… Whatever defenses Mama had once claimed would keep them safe… She just knew they'd failed. And if they failed, what chance did they stand?

The ringing faded and… dear Gods, it wasn't ringing.

Screams, sharp and shrill, echoed through the house.

Biting back a whimper, the child pressed her hands to her ears. As much as she wanted to flee, and as much as another voice literally ordered her to bolt, she stayed. Huddled in that small space. Eyes screwed shut as she cowered. Body twisting uncomfortably as she forced herself further into the hole.

She grew stiff, tiny fingers and bare toes going numb.

She knew not how long she hid there, arms slackening until, eventually, her ears were uncovered.

Silence.

But not the comforting silence that lulls one to sleep. No. This was more akin to the silence that falls over graveyards and funeral parlors. Long after the living have vacated.

Not that she could pinpoint that as the same feeling.

A creak. Of old hinges protesting their use.

Slowly, oh so very slowly, she craned her neck just enough to peer through the gap between crates. The door to the room was open. And in its frame stood a mountain of a man, eyes spilling blood light rolling about the room in a jerky, manic fashion. Searching.

This man was not Daddy.

"Baby?"

And despite the voice being Mama's…

"It's safe to come out!"

Panic twisted and curled through her. Heart attempting to leap into her mouth. Beat its way out of her chest. Everything in her wanted nothing more than to run. But she willed it to quiet, fingers digging into the flesh above the fluttering organ.

This man, this imposing person…

He sniffed the air, lurching into the room as a cruel smirk curved his thin lips. Head tipping to one side ponderously. "Honey, it's time to stop hiding." Closer he stalked, body twisting this way and that to search. Until once at the back of the room, he froze. Lips lifting with a snarl. Bushy brows pulled low with anger.

With a few choice words, he swept far more gracefully than should be possible for a man of his stature out of the room.

A shuddering breath left her as a hush settled over the house, once more. She dared not move, knowing he might not be far, and strained her ears.

Tap.

Her head swiveled around and she stared owlishly at the wall. Closer to the door than her, but still along the same wall as herself.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Closer the raps came.

Tap.

Closer.

Tap.

Closer still.

Tap.

Ta-tap.

Ta-tap.

Ta-tap.

Ta-tap.

So very close.

"Such a strong heart!"

In that moment, her heart felt anything but strong. Lurching to a halt in her chest as the deep, booming voice seemed to rattle the rafters and her fear consumed her. A large hand burst through the wall, debris from the wood laths and plaster pelting her flesh. Burly fingers curled through her hair. Pulling. Yanking her through the hole as she clawed desperately at the shelving and crumbling wall.

"Ah, don't fight, kitten! Wouldn't want you to end up like your ma and pa, would we?" the man guffawed, holding her at a distance as she flailed and screamed. And with a gleeful laugh, he lumbered down the hallway, calling, "Brother! I caught the little bitch!"

An almost wiry man dressed in charred flannel and breeches came flying out of the kitchen with a loud clatter, pots and pans scattered across the floor in his wake. He looked… excited as he rushed to meet them. That expression…

Despite being so young, it still made her skin crawl. Nothing good came of looks like that.

"Ho, she is pretty. And so small, too," he gasped, cupping her chin and leaning in close. "I bet you'll feel better than that other whore. Sound better. Taste better."

The child's stomach churned and clenched in terror as she clawed at the hands holding her aloft. Never mind the throbbing pain brought on by being suspended by her hair, worsened with each jarring kick she aimed at the man before her. She just… needed away!

Away!

Away!

Away!

The men holding her faltered before laughing. And gently, like she was a fragile and cherished doll in need of new clothes, a set of thin fingers slipped beneath the strap of her sundress. Tearing it in two as though it were merely paper.

"Don't worry, kitten," he moaned, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her bared shoulder. "We're just gonna have a little fun."

"Riedikke!"

The child slapped into the ground with a painful smack as the men startled like children with their hands caught in the cookie jar. Even with her head wrenched back by the hand still grasping her hair, she could say this was probably less painful. Not comfortable. But at the very least, she didn't feel like her scalp was in threat of ripping loose from her skull.

Slowly, they turned to view the well-dressed man standing to one side, his fingers hooked in his grey waistcoat. The pale person fixed them with a disapproving stare and ran a slim hand through his sandy hair. "Both of you must be responsible for the mother's current condition."

The two holding her captive seemed to straighten and puff up at the accusation. But it was the brute that scoffed and challenged him with, "And what's your point, Laun? Nothin' sayin' we couldn't do what we wanted with them."

"Must I remind the two of you of your orders, Jarrod? Riedikke?" he growled in response. "I am quite certain 'violate the targets' was not on the agenda. I'll be back in half an hour or so. Keep yourselves in line and complete your tasks. Do I make myself clear?"

The brothers, whether by blood or not, scowled and bit out their reluctant affirmatives. But neither moved until the man called Laun disappeared. Their faces twisting with a warped sense of glee as they gazed upon the child, once more. "Maybe we can play a different game," said Riedikke, tugging her to her feet. Even as she bit and clawed at his arm, he was not deterred. Mind filled with ideas for this new 'game'.

Through the house he skipped, child and lumbering brother in tow. Past the storage room and beyond the hole in the wall. Into a study dyed vermillion. And with a harsh shove, she sprawled across the floor.

Not that he minded the view that graced his half-lidded eyes. The way her dress hitched up and exposed her legs. Her backside. The way she squirmed –

But he was here for a reason.

As he towered above her, however, the girl found she only had eyes for the blood-stained riding boots just beyond her fingertips. Disregarding the possible danger she was in as horror, winding through her and rolling in her belly, halted any thoughts of escape. "Mama?"

"Yes! It's Mama!" Riedikke grabbed her head and snapped it back. She needed to see this masterpiece in its entirety! Not just the gorgeous boots. "Look at her! So beautiful, isn't she?"

The soft-spoken woman was barely recognizable, slouched down in the chair like a sack of flour not quite full. A once heart-shaped face, now bloodied and swollen, stared down at her. Cheeks split open and jaw slack and off to one side. Through the film of red obscuring her vision, she could squint and almost see a hollow smile in that mangled face. And from this angle, she could just barely see the gaping hole in her throat.

Some dark part of her wondered if that was how the Neanderthal acquired Mama's voice.

However, a larger part of her continued to be paralyzed by fear. Disgust. Eyes landing on the cavernous cavity that once housed the entrails now arranged neatly to one side. Dare she think of it as organized?

No.

Not with the way blood painted the walls and dripped from her belly and –

A soft gurgling filled the air.

The wiry brother moaned throatily, even as the child's mouth gaped and bile sprayed the floor. "Oh, I do love those noises." He handed her to Jarrod, slinking over to the mother. "If you wanted attention, all you had to do was ask."

Back pressed against the larger brother's chest, the child could see it now. The strangely unmarred chest shuddering, struggling to work lungs that were no longer available. Head bobbing as it struggled to raise.

Another rasping gurgle.

But Riedikke was there to help as the woman failed, his arm curling under her chin until he palmed her cheek and pulled her close. Nose nuzzling the curve of her neck like a lover. Fond and caring. Lips curved in a deceitfully gentle way as his opposite hand, fingers splayed, trailed over her breasts and ribs and plunged into the dark opening with a squelch.

Another.

"Kitten," he called over the noise, giving her a sidelong glance with those hooded eyes that burned scarlet. "I was thinking of playing a little game of dress-up. I promise, you'll look absolutely stunning by the end."

Pop!

The noise that followed could be closely likened to raw meat being crushed under a too-forceful grip, muscle popping and breaking down. Bursting between the fingers. Juices splattering against the counter.

The body in his hold convulsed before gradually stilling.

"Now!" The arm within the body jerked. "I have the perfect shade of rouge for those pretty cheeks!"

And so it began; a macabre fashion show where she was the unwilling participant. Where blood was delicately dabbed against her cheeks until they were rosy. Intestines looped about her neck to the point of choking in lieu of a cloth scarf. Eyes pinned to her scalp to adorn the crown of her head.

The deranged man started detaching fingers for… well, she really didn't want to know. But she was infinitely grateful when Jarrod said, "Brother, we're runnin' out of time."

Undeterred, Riedikke smiled widely and snapped off one more finger. Just for fun, she was sure. "Well, then this was a good start! Kitten, let's go visit your old man!"

It was hard to struggle when pinned as she was, body so little and a captor so large. But she continued to flail. Even when she was ready to give up hope. Even as they passed through the entryway, now little more than an irreparably charred and still smoldering crater in the home, she fought, despite seeing the destruction and knowing that if her parents died to these men, so would she.

The ceiling heaved and groaned as they passed. However, not much farther down the hall, they stopped. She couldn't see past Riedikke to know why he suddenly giggled, manic eyes alight with malicious intent. He swooped down, scooping his prize up from the floor. "Kitten, why don't you give Daddy a kiss?" he suggested.

Slowly, he pivoted, until she stared into eyes the color of polished emeralds. Or, what used to be polished. Now clouded with death. Rolled back the slightest bit in their sockets. Drooping. Dripping. Fluids marking a path down his gaunt cheeks and square jaw.

She screamed.

One might think that, by now, she might be out of the screeching stage in this nightmare. But seeing her father's decapitated head and sunken eyes only served to reaffirm what she already knew.

There really was no hope.

Riedikke pulled the head to his chest. Cradling it as he carded his stained fingers through the pale locks. "That wasn't very well mannered of you," he said, brows drawn down and lips pouted. "You'd think they'd have taught you better than to greet someone like that."

"Why?!" she cried, straining all the more to slip free. "Why are you doing this?!"

"Well, you see, kitten," he started, lowering the head to the floor with care and gesturing for Jarrod to do the same with her. "You're needed for something."

His foot drew back, and after a pregnant pause and pointed look, he said, "Your parents were in the way."

For a moment, the girl thought he might kick her. Body positioned in such a way that it would be so easy. Especially as Jarrod forced her to her knees. But instead, his leg snapped up and came down, the head bursting open much like a melon under too much pressure.

It was then that she realized she was in the perfect position to be bathed in the resulting explosion of gore.

"It was a problem that needed to be crushed underfoot."

She barely heard him. Instead…

Was that a chunk of brain clinging to her lips?

More bile spewed past her lips parted in horror.

That darker part of her made sure it splattered against Riedikke.

Even as she struggled to see past the tears flooding her eyes.

"Oh, poor dear. Let's go."

He twisted a hand through her hair, dragging her down the short stretch of hall remaining by the crimson tresses.

Not that he had to try hard.

She did not struggle.

Fight!

Her body limp.

I don't want to.

Eyes clouded.

You have to!

Not even seeing the gouges in the wood floor as she was drug across them.

What's it matter?

Not noticing their halt.

Please!

Not hearing them speak until…

Maybe it'll be faster this way.

A large hand descended upon her cheek like the wrath of the Gods.

"Ah! There's our good little kitten."

The child watched as he shook his hand, bits of crimson hair slipping from his grasp. Ears ringing and eyes shuddering.

"It's time," Jarrod chuckled.

"F-for what?"

"For goodbyes."

The brothers shifted. And behind them, she could see a broad-shouldered torso, dressed in a loose cotton tunic. Arms outstretched and bent at queer angles. Nails imbedded in the floorboards. They kicked the body over.

The scent of charred flesh and tangy blood filled the air, and with a deep breath, Riedikke smiled. "Your old man had a lot of fight in him. Even with his shit ruptured and burning." He quickly turned his decidedly lascivious smile toward her. "Exciting stuff. Maybe you'd like a closer look?"

It didn't sound like she had much of an option. But still she screeched out a broken refusal, wide eyes unable to look away from the gaping, gooey mess. Blackened offal and an angry red bubbling and swelling. Flesh still decaying. Still weeping.

And as a pale arm wrapped about her waist, gone was the notion to take the abuse. She whirled. Attacking the man in flannel. Fingers clawing and teeth tearing into anything available. Blood like acid flooding her mouth.

Riedikke laughed, watching the child attempt to maul him. Admittedly, she was doing an impressive job on his arm. He shuddered. "There's that fight!" he cried, grasping her by the scruff of her neck. "But I insist!"

With a speed that disoriented her, he twisted her around, shoving her face-first into the body's open cavity.

She flailed, hands scrabbling on the floor and her father's dead body. Desperation and panic stealing her breath. Horror muddling her thoughts as the chilled viscera pressed into her eyes. Her nostrils. Her lips. Her tongue as her body commanded she breathe.

When she choked and sputtered, limbs growing heavy and movements turning sluggish, she thought for sure this was the end. But the hand on the nape of her neck curled to the front and pulled her up.

She gasped, greedy lungs gulping down as much air as they could muster.

Tears poured down her face.

"Please!" she wailed, voice raspy and strained. Sobs wracking her small body as the man pressed himself closer to her.

In that moment, the child knew not if she begged for an end to the torment or for an end to her life.

"I like when you beg, kitten," Riedikke breathed. He pressed his hips closer as she continued to plead, the hand not occupied with her tender neck massaging her lower belly. "Laun isn't back. Not yet. Maybe we can reward you for being such a good girl. What do you think, Jarrod?"

The voice that answered him was not his brother's.

"I think you should have planned your night better."

Riedikke slowly turned, casting an innocent smile at the man standing there. "Speak of the Devil."

Such a noble looking man, truly befitting the name Noble, with royal blue eyes that twinkled like sapphires. He snarled, razor-like canines bared as he stalked forward. Hands curled. Ready to strike if need be. "I warned you, Riedikke. I warned you, and still you attempt to go through with your vile acts. If you weren't needed, I'd rend the flesh from your bones. Snap your ankles and break all your toes. Take each finger as payment for all of their woes." Closer Laun crept. "Pluck your eyes from your skull, so that you might never cast that lascivious gaze upon another. And once I was satisfied, I would turn you over to Doctor Edmont, so that you might never use your manhood against another, again."

While normally one to smile at everything, Riedikke found himself wanting to cower from the Noble before him. Lips turned down in light of the threat from a typically calm man.

Not that Riedikke was one easily deterred.

But as Laun reached out and took the child from his grasp, he stayed his hand.

"Now, your task. I completed mine, so do not expect me to make the mistake of leaving a second time."

The child flinched under the light hold, turning her blurred gaze upon Laun. "Please…" she sobbed, face feeling tight from the drying blood as she openly cried. "I'll be good, I swear! Just… please! Don't let him touch me, anymore!"

"I'm sorry."

His head tipped down and… that look upon his face…

It was nothing like the one Riedikke had given her. And she knew, he was sincere in his apologies.

That he wouldn't (or couldn't) stop what was to come.

She became…

Resigned.

"Kitten."

The grip on her shoulders tightened. Still, she turned in his hold to face the demonic man. Stomach twisting just at the sight of him. Heaving as he trailed a finger along her jaw.

It did not linger in its exploration, the Noble at her back growling much like a feral dog.

"Fine," Riedikke huffed. From his pocket, he drew a leather glove, the once pale hide stained and scored with arcane seals and runes. He jerked it on, forming a fist no less than five times until each mark glowed like smoldering coals. Ensuring every miniscule barb penetrated his flesh and fed the symbols.

"Little kitten, who knows when you'll remember this. Who knows if you ever will? But we'll be back for you. In fact, we won't be too far. We'll practically be neighbors!" He tapped her nose, making a soft 'boop' noise.

She might have laughed at the gesture if it'd been done any other time. If her parents weren't mutilated heaps of flesh. If she was oblivious to his true nature.

She almost did. Because to see this side of the maniac…

If she squinted really hard, he looked almost like he could be a wacky uncle.

But he turned that disgusting grin upon her, once more. Fingers housed within the archaic glove trailing over her tender scalp. "Oh! I thought those had fallen out!" He paused in his mission to briefly tweak the pins still imbedded in her scalp. "And don't get your panties in a twist, Laun. I'm just removing them."

He did.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Only satisfied when she was whimpering pitifully and Laun looked ready to kill.

"There! All done!"

And as he ran his gloved hand over the bleeding marks, even the child looked eager for his life. Vibrant, two-toned eyes narrowed and lips drawn up over her teeth. He smiled and pressed on.

If she had to describe what it felt like he was doing, she might say she was on the receiving end of a massage given by a hot, stone hand. Tapping and pressing. Kneading the flesh and growing warmer.

Warmer.

Scalding.

The child made to flinch back.

She couldn't.

Muscles cramping and going rigid.

"You're forgetting."

Her vision swam and…

Where is…

No.

"I said forgetting. No fighting."

No.

"Forget your troubles and sink into that dark abyss."

An ocean stretched before her.

Dark.

Darker than dark.

A void.

"That's it, kitten. Let it wash over you."

It looked so calm.

Comforting, but…

I'll drown.

I'll…

The water rippled and heaved.

Climbing and twining about her legs like clingy ivy.

No!

The waters receded.

"Naughty child. Don't you want to forget this nightmare?"

Yes… no…

…

No!

"Then maybe, someday, you will remember, again."

The waters rose.

Spiraling into spires higher than she could see.

"If you play your cards right."

The columns curled inward.

Points emerging from the dark.

Converging.

Pressing into her scalp.

"Until then…"

They penetrated her.

It hurts!

Wriggled like maggots in her mind until…

"Forget."

...

In the dark of the cave, a single rune burned like dying embers upon the girl's forehead.