Both of my hands are folded tightly around the gun. I am shaking uncontrollably and sweating profusely. My ears are still ringing from the gunshot, and my lower lip is quivering like a frightened child's. There is a new, queasy feeling in my stomach, something I have never felt before. It is like a black hole, starting in my gut and eating me from the inside out, an unstoppable virus that's going to attack my cells until I die. It's so unpleasant and irksome that I briefly consider shooting myself, just to get all of this over with.

A finger must have touched the universal time clock and held the hands into place because time slows down. I become hyper-aware of everything around me. The air rapidly becomes thicker, clogging my windpipe. Angel is standing to my left, shocked and confused, and the vibrations coming from his body swim through the air until they reach me, stopping so I can acknowledge them. My eyes are trained on the office door, which is only half open. If I close it now, the gap between Alastor and I will close, but not for long, I assume.

I shot him. But he isn't dead.

"Why... wh-wh-why?" I stammer.

When the bullet connected with Alastor's head, his body barely moved. He stumbled backward with bewilderment, and his smile momentarily crumpled. My gaze stuck to him, waiting for his muscles to relax in the way that a dead person's do, but they never did. In less than a minute, he regained his domineering posture, allowed his neck to crack back into its former place, and smiled a wicked, hungry, ghastly grin.

"Why aren't you dead?" I whisper, my voice breaking. Breaking like the sanity in my head and the fear in my gut.

Alastor remains mute. So I fire the Glock again.

He still does not fall.

"Oh my God."

I fire again.

Nothing.

"Die! Why the fuck won't you die!"

"That's not how it works around here, sweetheart," he says callously. His words are so cold that it sends chills down my spine like a bucket of ice would.

I don't know what to do, but I don't have much time to act. Alastor could attack me at any minute. His skinny, black cane is in his hand, and he has poised himself in a way that makes it look like he wants to stab me with it.

Angel nudges the side of my arm gently. "On the count of three, you run, okay?" he says. I nod.

Alastor looks at Angel, then back at me. His eyes narrow slightly. "What are you-"

"Three!" Shoving past me, Angel tackles Alastor to the ground in a mound of arms and legs. For a moment, I am frozen still, staring at Alastor's disheveled face, but the hallway is now clear.

This is my chance to escape him.

Holding my Glock tight, I run as fast as my legs will take me. When I approach the end of the corridor, I slow down for a minute, only because I don't know where to go. Then I get an idea.

Telling myself that I can go faster, I run through the hotel and bound through the main doors. Once outside, I swivel to my right and continue on. I have to make it. My heart is pumping hard, fighting to keep up with my pace. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving me feeling dead and slow. My legs begin to ache, having been overworked, but I don't stop running until I reach my destination.

The club that Vaggie had taken me to before my interview. The place where I told her that she looked nice in her dress. Pastel white. It looked perfect against her grey skin and flowing white hair.

I reach the doors of the club and push them open, gasping for air. I skim through the crowd for anyone that I recognize but see nobody.

I make a split second decision and run for the dressing rooms. To my surprise, nobody is in there. The door does not have a lock, so I push a small chair up against it as a blockade. Once the door looks as guarded as it can be, I lean against the wall next to the door and place my hand on my chest as an effort to sooth my breathing.

I have to be confident. I have to be brave. Alastor probably isn't even chasing me right now. He probably just came to my office for counseling or something. I mean, why would he want to see me? Was he going to try and kidnap me again?

I close my eyes and remember, long ago, about the time I went to yoga with my mother.

She had just found out about all of the things my uncle had done to me. She felt so terrible that she spent a good five days (in a row) crying about it, but once she got over her guilt, she signed me up with a therapist and took me to yoga with her. She said that yoga always helped her take her mind off the stress of life and just focus on her spirit and mind.

The instructor had a saying. After we would all come in and lay our mats down, she would say, "Now criss-cross everyone. Close your eyes, imagine the clear sky, and listen to the wind. The sky is your mind, and the wind is your breath."

I try that now. Sliding to the ground with my back against the wall, I close my eyes and imagine the cloudless blue sky. The wind is rough and violent, so I focus on calming it. I count in my head, all the way up to ten, then I start back again on one. After two minutes, the stormy gusts become a light breeze.

I open my eyes.

I gasp.

"Feeling better yet?" he asks. There is blood on his face, smeared up and down and everywhere. His complexion is that of a maniac. The cane in his claw-like hand, his red suit ruffled and torn in various places. His eyes are dissatisfied, yet not dispirited. His smile is frustrated, yet centered.

Blue skies. I stand up, comb my fingers through my hair, and look him in the eyes. "Quite," I say.

Alastor chuckles. "That's fantastic. Now we can get straight to the point without any further..." He pauses to straighten his suit. "...interruptions."

Although I try not to show it, my heart is beating against my rib cage like a hammer. My cheeks are hot with emotion, and so are my hands. My whole body feels like a burning coal, roasting inside of a fire, slowly disintegrating into ash. I want to step forward and slam my fist into his head so hard that his skull bends in, but I know that he'll only laugh at my piteous attempt.

I hold his gaze. "The point."

His eyes blink, but slower than usual. Too slow.

When I realize then that he's going to attack me, it's too late. Alastor's controlled hands raise over his head, clutching his cane with a steel grip, and his eyes widen in a way that only an inhuman, murderous, scheming freak's eyes would. In a flash, the end of Alastor's cane shoves into my chest, thrusting me into the wall. He pushes right between my ribcages, forcing me to stay put. An evil smirk paints itself over his lips. He knew that he would overpower me. His moves are smooth, almost effortless. Either he planned this out, or he's just that good.

"I don't work like most, my love. You must learn that. I am a serial killer. My gears will not stop turning when a pathetic girl tries to shoot me in the head with a silly little gun." He pulls the cane away from me. His eyes glow. "Call me sick, if you would like. Call me a sadist. I will do nothing but agree."

I swallow hard, then cautiously step forward. Confidence, Danielle. Blue skies. "Okay, that's understood," I say, brushing my clothes off, trying to appear unshaken. "Was that your point? To tell me about how big and strong you are? Or is there more you want to say?"

Alastor's shaggy red hair covers the bullet hole in his forehead, but I know that it's there. I shot him twice, in the same spot both times. "There is more, my love," he says with hostility. "I need your help."

"My help? With what?" I ask.

Alastor chuckles, satisfied with his vile self. "You will see soon. Just shake my hand."

His right hand jerks forward, waiting patiently for mine to come forward and meet his.

"Come oooon," Alastor says anxiously. My eyes flicker from his open palm, up to his eyes, then back down to his palm. "No strings attached. Well, except for the one little itty bitty string that can make you do whateverIwantyoutodo."

This man is crazy.

"What's in it for me?" I ask, reaching a single finger forward and placing it in Alastor's empty palm. His eyes watch my finger as it trails up his arm. I step forward, letting my finger go until it reaches Alastor's nose.

His eyes droop slightly. "Anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Anything. Money, power, fame... and if you help me until the end, maybe even..." he pauses for suspense, inching his face forward as my hand drops away. "...your life."

I flinch. There's no way. No way in any circumstance could Alastor have the power to give me my life back. It's... impossible.

"That's right," he sings. "You could have your life back! Doesn't that sound so nice? Seeing your family, sneaking out to go hang out with your friends, not always having your life in danger... did I mention that you'll get to see your family?"

I nod. Then I shake my head. Then I flush, suddenly becoming both viciously angry and wildly attracted to the crazy, inticing demon before me.

Then I imagine Vaggie. If I go back, I won't be able to see her anymore. Or anyone down here. On the other hand, I would see my family. I could return to my old life, without the trauma, without the fear of death always waiting around the corner.

"Tell me what you need help with."

"Not until you shake," he says, waving his hand in front of my face. I notice that he has a black glove on. Somehow, I didn't see that earlier.

I stare at his hand. Then his face. Then his slim torso. His broad shoulders. His evil grin.

"Okay," I say.

"You're making the deal?" His face lights up like a kid receiving a lollipop.

I know that he's trying to manipulate me. I may look like a Barbie doll, but I sure in hell don't think like one. He's going to use me, make me help him with whatever villainous acts he has in mind, then he's going to drop me like a bag of flour and leave me to die. He won't hold out on his deal. I know it.

So I'm not doing to hold out on my deal, either.

I will sabotage him.

"Of course, my love," I say with a wink. I extend my right hand forward, keeping my left hand tucked behind my back. Alastor meets my hand with his and gives it a firm shake.

"A pleasure doing business with you," he says.

"You as well."

"I'll contact you when I need to. In the mean time, this never happened."

"Agreed."

I wait until Alastor vanishes.

Then I uncross my fingers.