TRIGGER WARNING: talk of torture, mention of torture, implied torture.

Fairytales

Thierry sent one of his cars to pick up Opal, and her business partner, Teak. The three of them were having a private business dinner at one of his estates outside of Chicago, per Teak's suggestion. He had a friend of a friend manage to get an invitation. Opal and Teak had just been flown from New York in one of his private jets. It was almost over the top for a business meeting, but being the Lord of the Night World had its perks, Opal supposed. She also heard how generous he was, and was hoping to capitalize on that during this meeting.

The private jet and car were a bonus.

Opal was greeted by a butler opening her door and bowing. More formal for this day and age, but maybe having lived as long as Thierry had, some old habits died hard.

She nodded and gave him a polite smile as she stepped out. The driver was at Teak's door. They were greeted by another butler to open the front door for them. Behind him, was Thierry himself. On his right flank was someone Opal didn't recognize.

Keeping her polite smile up, she stepped onto the threshold, Teak following her lead.

"I thought we were having a…" Her eyes flickered to the woman at his side before looking back at Thierry. She was probably a few years older (in looks that was), most likely East Asian, with her jet-black hair cut in a bob. "Private meeting."

"My advisor," Thierry gestured to the woman. "Willow."

"What kind of advisor?" Opal asked, not moving, forcing the butler to keep the door open. It wasn't like she was weary of Thierry, she just hadn't expected another person. She'd heard all the stories, done her research. For having been alive so long, and the Lord of the Night World, it amazed Opal that he hadn't killed anyone. Ever. Not only that, he generously gave away handfuls of his fortune to friends in need. (It was even alleged he was trying to start another group—vermin-lovers, along with other Night People. It was a preposterous notion, but not something she was going to bring up now.)

"She's my advisor for a lot of things." Thierry smiled, a little grimly, like he was telling a joke. Opal thought it was strange, but ignored it. Thierry didn't quite strike her as grim. Perhaps it was her nerves making her see things. This was a big deal: a meeting with the Lord of the Night World. "I do business in a lot of different areas. She keeps it all straight for me. Shall we?" He stepped aside and gestured further into the foyer.

Not liking the change of plans, but having to roll with it anyway if she wanted to have someone such as Thierry help sponsor a charity her business was holding, she walked further inside, with Teak at her side.

They exchanged nervous looks. The butler closed the doors behind them.

Business "dinner" was really more of a formality. As far as Opal could tell, everyone at the meeting were lamia vampires except for Thierry. He didn't serve food, but they sat down at a dining table and another butler came and poured them all glasses of a dark red liquid from what looked to be a wine bottle.

Once the door had closed behind the butler, they began their meeting.

"Your…friend," Thierry began, addressing Teak, "told me that your business is holding a charity fundraiser a month from now. What would my role in this be, exactly?"

"From your chocolate factory," Opal said after taking a sip from her glass. "We were hoping you would be one of our main sponsors, and donate some of your chocolate and sweets."

"And all proceeds will go to the charities you're choosing?" Thierry asked.

Opal nodded. "Of course."

"Why chocolate?" Willow asked.

"I don't quite understand."

"Lord Thierry has businesses in all sorts of things—from diamonds to toys to theater companies. Why chocolate?" Willow elaborated, putting her clasped hands on the table.

"We already have sponsors for all of those things," Opal replied politely. "Reilly Diamonds, Rowe Your Boat Toys, and a local theater troupe based in Brooklyn are all attending the charity event."

"Are you saying that Lord Thierry's products aren't good enough?" Willow commented, looking at Opal with unblinking, dark brown eyes.

Opal blinked, fear shooting through her. A simple meeting botched by complete accident! How would she ever live that down?

"No, of course not," she amended, addressing Thierry. "Your products are the best. I imagine, however, it would look better if we had more than just one sponsor."

Willow smiled, sitting back. "Relax, I only joke."

Embarrassment rushed through Opal, then, and she struggled to keep her cool. She smiled, forcing a laugh. "She's quite the advisor," she said, looking at Thierry.

Thierry smiled. "She certainly is."

Opal excused herself to freshen up and lick her wounds. Teak excused himself as well, and a butler showed them to the bathroom. Teak followed her inside. It wasn't like they needed to use the toilets anyway.

"How rude," Opal hissed, fixing her hair, looking at Teak through the mirror, who was sitting back on a small love seat. "Who does she think she is?" Opal turned and faced Teak, her eyes flashing silver. "An 'advisor?' What kind of bullshit is that? Lord Thierry barely even said anything. Is that all he does? Sit back and let his underlings harass possible business partners?"

"He's probably just being thorough," Teak commented in a completely calm tone.

"Making a joke is being thorough?" She narrowed her eyes at her partner. "Whose side are you on?"

Teak smiled, showing teeth, and for a moment Opal was unnerved. "Maybe he wanted to see how you'd react to such a…joke."

"Well, I hope I passed, because I'm already feeling this isn't worth it." Opal reached up to tie her hair into a high ponytail. "I can find better chocolate somewhere else."

Teak blinked in surprise. "That joke riled you up more than I thought it would."

Opal glared at him, dropping her arms. "I don't like doing business with children."

"He's centuries old, you know," Teak said. "He just looks seventeen. He's still the Lord of the Night World."

"I know." Opal spun on her heal, heading for the door. She'd opened it only a fraction when Teak said something, stopping her.

"Are the rumors true?"

Opal froze, lifting her head. Then she slowly closed the door. Her voice was low, dangerous. "I don't know what you mean."

"Then why did you shut the door like that?" Teak asked, pointing to the door, even though her back was facing him.

Opal glared at him over her shoulder, eyes flashing silver again. Her canines pushed at her bottom lip. "What rumors would you be speaking of? I'm sure there are a lot of rumors floating around about me."

"The one that says you informed Maya of Lady Hannah's whereabouts," Teak told her, gauging her reaction.

Opal turned slowly, her body tensed like a cobra or a tiger getting ready to pounce.

Teak held up his hands in surrender, not moving from his seat. "I only ask because I think it's pretty impressive that you have such…informants. I'm glad that I'm on you're good side." Teak paused. "What would you do if Thierry ever found out?"

"He won't."

"Yeah, but if he did—"

Opal crossed her arms. "Is that all you do? Listen to rumors all day?"

Teak grinned again. "I never said anything about a different rumor."

"I know where you're going with this," Opal said. "You've always been an open book. You're talking about the Ravenscroft family, aren't you? Personally, I don't think they even exist. They're a myth. A bedtime story to scare us into submission. Maya promised that in the new world, one where Thierry is no longer in charge, Night People will be able to roam freely. Not hide in the shadows, letting disgusting vermin rule when and where we get to go out! How we have to present ourselves! How could I pass that over?"

"Okay, point taken," Teak said, making a calming gesture with his hands.

Opal took a deep breath and straightened up, tightening her ponytail. "You won't be 'on my good side' any longer if you go blabbing about this," Opal growled.

Teak acquiesced, "Mum's the word. You'll have to tell me how the rest of the meeting goes, I'm afraid I have to excuse myself presently."

"Whatever," Opal muttered, exiting the bathroom with an annoyed hiss.

The butler who'd greeted Opal at the door led her back to the dining room. When she entered, however, only Willow was there, sitting where Thierry had been sitting before, at the head of the table. Opal started, freezing in the doorway.

"Where is Lord Thierry?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

"He had to excuse himself," she answered, taking a sip from her wine glass. "He got an urgent call. Where is Teak?"

Opal smiled without humor. "Funnily enough, he excused himself, as well."

"Then shall we finish up our business deal?"

Opal nodded, trying for a smile, and stepped inside. The butler closed the door behind her and she walked forward, pacing herself, before stiffly sitting down in the chair she'd been in before.

"So—" Opal began, but Willow cut her off.

"Do you believe in fairytales, Opal?" she asked, resting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her clasped hands.

Opal blinked, faltering. "What?"

"Fairytales? Stories?" Willow paused and smiled, looking directly at Opal. "Myths?"

Opal smoothed the skirt of her dress, not wanting to break eye contact but feeling extremely uncomfortable the longer they kept it. Finally, Opal looked back up at Willow.

"I'm afraid I don't follow. I thought we were finishing the…business transaction." Opal said carefully.

"Oh, we already have, actually. Thierry would be happy to be a sponsor and donate however much chocolate and sweets you need for the charity event."

"Then why—?"

"One of my favorite myths comes from Chinese mythology," Willow interrupted, sitting back and setting her hands in her lap. "A story about two lovers, where one gives the other a mirror while they're apart, so that she can see him. But she drops the mirror, and they break into seven pieces, becoming seven of the clearest lakes in China."

Opal didn't say anything, a bad feeling creeping up on her. She glanced at the door, but jumped when Willow spoke again.

"I wouldn't," she said. Opal's eyes flicked back to Willow, who was picking at her nails. "A little birdie told me that you had access to intel on Lady Hannah's whereabouts." She stopped her picking and looked up at Opal. "And gave it to Maya."

Opal's hands furled into fists underneath the table, but kept her face an impenetrable mask, devoid of emotion. "Do you mind me asking your last name, Willow? I don't think Lord Thierry introduced us properly."

Willow smiled wide, teeth showing, eyes glittering with malevolence. "Ravenscroft." She enjoyed the fear that flooded through Opal's eyes like silver usually did. She had to hand it to Opal, though, she managed to keep her face stony. "Think I'm just a scary bedtime story now?" she whispered.

Opal met Willow's eyes for three beats before she was up and out of her chair so fast, it tumbled into the next chair. When Opal glanced back, Willow was no longer sitting at the head of the table. She face front and nearly crashed into Willow, who was now standing calmly in front of the only door.

Stumbling back, Opal's chest heaving, she put on her brave face.

"So, what?" she snarled. "You do all of Lord Thierry's dirty work? Like his errand boy?"

"I do," Willow answered, unfazed by the jab. "But I'm much more than an…errand boy." She stepped toward Opal, who unconsciously mirrored her. "He made a promise to Lady Hannah, and I am helping him uphold it."

"So Lord Thierry isn't such a saint after all." Opal's lips curled, her eyes flooding silver.

Willow remained where she was, still absolutely unfazed. "On the contrary." She blinked and her dark brown eyes had turned silver. "He does not condone what I do. But he's a smart man and knows sometimes this is what needs to be done. He loathes that we live in such a world where this is necessary, which is why he strives to create a better world where what my family does is no longer needed. He will mourn your loss like he does with the others I have…disposed of. Despite the fact that you gave information to someone who wants to kill his soulmate. Something I would not grant to someone like you, were I to be in his position."

"I've held my own well enough in a fight," Opal growled, taking a fighting stance, baring her fangs. "I'm not scared of you."

Willow led a wooden-bladed dagger slide from her shirt-sleeve. "You should be."


The door to the dining room opened again, to reveal Willow sitting at the head of the table, sipping from her wine glass. She stood as Thierry entered, and bowed.

"My Lord," she greeted, stepping out from behind the table.

"Is it done?" Thierry asked, his voice laced with sadness, but a firm resolve. Willow had always wondered how he did it, kept peace between those two warring emotions.

"Yes, my Lord," Willow answered. "I have the information, as well, if you'd like it."

"Of course." Thierry nodded, then did a once over of the room. "I am impressed, as always. Not a single sign of a fight. No blood on the carpet. It doesn't even smell like death." Despite being a saint, he had a wicked sense of gallows humor. Something Willow appreciated about him.

Willow bowed again. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Teak is waiting outside for you," Thierry said. "A car will take you to my jet, which will return you to your home. Please relay the information you have gathered to Nilsson. I'm sorry to have pulled you away so suddenly."

"It was not a problem at all, my Lord," Willow automatically responded. "We appreciate all you have done for us in return." And it was true. Thierry was generous in how much he supported them, especially now. With that, Willow bowed once more before making her exit. As Thierry had said, Teak was waiting outside the estate for Willow.

As soon as she'd crossed the threshold, he embraced her, gently kissing her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.

"You don't have to be worried about me," Willow murmured as they pulled away.

"I'll always be worried about you," he murmured back, putting an arm around her waist and resting his other hand on her stomach. "Lord Thierry should've just let me come and take care of it. All you should be worried about is taking care of yourself. And the little one."

Willow smiled, his concern for her making her fall in love with him all over again. "You know that's not how it works. You married into my family."

The driver opened the door for them. Teak had to pull away from Willow as they slid in. He looked over at his wife, smiling but sighing a little resigned. "Yes, I know."

Willow took his hand and squeezed it gently. "You'll always be my partner in crime, though."

Teak squeezed her hand back. "I wouldn't want to be anything else."


"And lastly," Mrs. Grant said, flicking on the lights. "In the last five minutes of class, I'll be assigning you your first project. Pairs." She started walking to her desk as the class started whispering excitedly about the prospect of picking partners. Their teacher paused half-way there to glare at the class through the corners of her eyes. "And if I see anyone packing up before I'm finished speaking, which includes after the bell has rung, I will be picking the pairs."

The class quieted down again, but Emerald could feel their excitement and anticipation, hear it in their racing hearts. Emerald glanced over at Storm, who was lazily doodling something in his notebook. She gazed at him a moment longer before looking back at the teacher, who was now holding a stack of papers in one of her arms.

Storm relaxed, glancing over at Emerald, and dropped his pen. That probably had to be the hardest he'd ever had to work to not look back at someone he knew was staring at him. This vampire was going to be the death of him. Of course, if he killed her first, then there would no longer be a problem. And that day was coming soon.

"Since we're going into the section about the brain," she explained, handing kids in the front row stacks of paper. "I am going to have you make a presentation with a partner about parts of the brain. You must include where they are located, their name, and what their function is. What I am relaying to you right now is all on the paper, should you forget. You can use whatever type of presentation medium you choose so long as I am able to access it. It will be due a week from now."

She paused, waiting until everyone got the paper, looking silently at the class, daring them to start packing up. The second hand was ticking down to end of the period. The heartbeats got louder and faster.

"Choose your pairs before you leave," Mrs. Grant said, before heading back to her desk. The class exploded as teens rushed to pack their things up and find their partners.

Emerald began to pack her own things up at her own pace, as usual, waiting for Storm to approach her.

Storm tried not to throw his things into his backpack, afraid it might draw attention to him, and he needed a moment to compose himself. He couldn't approach her looking angry. Of course, he was frustrated that she just expected him to approach her in the first place. He was also, again, annoyed with how slow she moved, how everything had to be so precise.

By the time he'd finally managed to gain his usual shy, quiet kid air, Emerald was half-way to the door. Storm's hand twitched in irritation as he stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Arrogant.

"Hey," he called, managing to catch up to her right as she went out the door. He squeezed past another student to stand next to her. "Emerald, right?" he asked.

She smiled politely and nodded. "Storm."

The continued down the hall, Emerald going toward her locker. Storm's hand furled into a fist, which he quickly shoved into his pocket, hoping Emerald didn't notice. His locker was in the exact opposite direction.

"I…uh, noticed you didn't pick a partner," he said, trying to put enough hesitancy into his voice to hide his anticipation. "And I…also don't have a partner. So, I was thinking—maybe—that we could pair up and work on this project. Together."

"That sounds great," Emerald replied. "Would you like to exchange numbers or meet at my locker after school to talk about meeting times?"

Another prick of annoyance flitted through Storm, but he quickly squelched it down. "We can meet at your locker," he replied.

"It's three-oh-five. Think you can remember that?" Emerald smirked, raising an eyebrow jokingly.

Storm forced a light laugh. "I'll try."

"Great. I'll see you soon, then." With that, Emerald continued forward. Storm slowed his pace, watching her get swallowed up within the rest of the rushing students. He couldn't wait until that last bell rang. With a grim smile, he turned and started to make his way to his locker.


"Why is it always me?" Dillon muttered, holding his bat in front of him protectively as three vampires closed in on him. The rest of his group were lying in unconscious heaps around the alley they'd tried to attack the vampires in (with two new people since the other two were still recovering from the other attack). The vampires were skilled in fight more than they'd anticipated, but they weren't so hungry yet they'd immediately killed any of them. Or maybe they were keeping them alive so they could torture them. It wasn't unheard of.

They were grinning, elongated canine's glistening in the shitty alley light. For as long as Dillon had fought vampires, he would never get used to their silver eyes.

The trio took another step toward him, and Dillon's back hit the wall. He readied his bad, sucking in a breath, preparing to strike out with as much force as possible. The vampires froze too, sizing Dillon up.

A musical whistle shot through the alley, slicing through the tension. Out of instinct, the three vampires looked over their shoulders, toward the sound. Dillon capitalized on this moment, not bothering with the person standing in the alley's entrance, and wacked all three of them with his bat before jumping to the side, rolling back onto his feet and facing the vampires again. In such close quarters, he couldn't get enough momentum to knock them out, but it'd certainly hurt, hopefully stun or daze them long enough for him to kill them before they killed him.

But when he came out of his roll, ready for battle, he was let down. They weren't looking at him. They were focused on the newcomer. Keeping one eye on the vampires, Dillon looked at the person the vampires were. He stood with a bat casually resting on his shoulder, his other hand in his pocket, not looking perturbed at all. Despite the terrible lighting, it wasn't hard to distinguish the white mask attached to the person's ski mask, which concealed the rest of his face. What was more astonishing to Dillon was the fact that he was dressed in a button down and dark slacks (which didn't match his black high-tops).

First the Grim Reaper and now The Phantom? Of all the rotten luck. Of course, he didn't mind the help, especially if, at least The Phantom, was on the Night World's Most Wanted. But with them also brought more danger. Hunters with big names were always trouble, even if they were doing a service to unsuspecting victims.

"Nice evening, isn't it?" the guy asked, his voice just as calm as his stance.

Hissing and snarling, the vampires skipped the niceties and charged him. Dillon watched in amazement as The Phantom immediately readied his bat and swung at the closest vampire—a straight hit at the temple. The vampire went down and didn't get back up. The Phantom turned and swung into the abdomen of the one trying to creep up behind him before blocking an attack from the other vampire and shoving her back.

He turned, swinging again at the vampire he'd knocked in the abdomen: another good shot to the head.

The last vampire standing took a step back when The Phantom turned back to her. Even with a ski mask, Dillon could tell he was smiling, like he was getting enjoyment out of beating up these vampires. He remembered his group's conversation about all those big names, and how The Phantom was known for torturing vampires. Glancing down at his bat, he wondered if maybe he should start learning how to use a sword.

The last vampire was backing up, now, eyes darting to the exit. The Phantom threw his bat out, blocking her path.

"I don't think so." In one quick movement, he'd stepped in and slammed the bat into her head, the tip right under her chin. She crumpled like a rag doll.

Dillon jumped when The Phantom turned toward him, throwing the bat over his shoulder again, shoving his free hand in his pocket.

"Got a place to take these guys?" he asked.

Dillon swallowed thickly, wondering what The Phantom would do if he said no. He wasn't sure how his group felt about torture (besides Erin), and honestly, the prospect of torturing these blood-suckers sounded too good. But actually being faced with it made him kind of sick.

"Yeah, we got a place," he answered, his voice rough.

They tied the three vampires up before checking on the rest of Dillon's group. All still alive, and breathing. Only one of them had broken anything, amazingly. The others had gotten away with just cuts and bruises. After getting them up and moving, they slowly made their way back to their HQ.

The Phantom walked ahead of them, despite not knowing where they were going. Dillon gave him directions from behind, Antonio's arm slung over his shoulders, keeping his eyes on The Phantom's back like laser scopes. The other five trailed behind, carrying two of the vampires, murmuring to themselves, exchanging glances with each other, their eyes going to The Phantom every now and again.

The third vampire was slung over The Phantom's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"How'd you find us?" Dillon finally called, not able to stand the whispers behind him, silence before him, and the ragged breathing next to him.

The Phantom glanced over his shoulder at Dillon briefly before facing front again. "I've been jumping around different Lancer groups," he explained. "Trying to get a feel for the area."

"Area?" Dillon echoed.

"Manhattan," The Phantom clarified. "I'm trying to find a group…I like."

"You mean who likes torture," Erin said coldly.

The Phantom stopped, forcing the others to stop, too. Dillon glared at Erin over his shoulder. She glared right back at him.

"Please, tell me if I'm encroaching on what you've got going on here," The Phantom began, bringing the attention back to him. "I'd be happy to leave them for you to kill and find another group." He turned to face them.

"You aren't encroaching at all," Dillon finally said. Erin made a noise of protest behind him, but he ignored her. "We're almost there." Then he looked at Erin and spoke in a low, commanding voice: "If you don't want to be a part of this, then you are free to go."

With an angry huff and one last glare, Erin stormed off, crossing the street and starting down a side alley.

"I'd…better go with her. Make sure she gets to a busy street safely," Brenda mumbled, not meeting Dillon's gaze. She followed Erin, jogging to catch up to her.

"Shall we?" The Phantom asked, bringing Dillon's attention back to him.

"Let's go," he muttered, walking a little faster, tightening his grip on Antonio's wrist.


The Phantom could tell those who'd stayed were uncomfortable. Which meant they'd never tortured a vampire before. He'd heard of Lancers who liked to torture them, but had yet to find a group in Manhattan, which was disappointing.

"Do you…" Dillon trailed off, swallowing hard as he helped The Phantom lay the vampires down in an empty room of their HQ. "Do you do it for information?"

"No," The Phantom answered honestly, straightening up and taking out a pocket knife. "Would you like to stay or go? Not that it's going to make much of a difference." He grinned, his eyes shining with malice. "These walls are made of paper. So I'd suggest, if you want to leave, go home. Get some sleep. You've had a long night."

Dillon didn't know what to say to that. All he could do was stare. Then nod, then quickly exit. The rest of his team were waiting in the living room.

"Let's go," he murmured in a strained voice. "We should get Antonio's ribs checked out, anyway."

"Is everything—?" Andrew started, but Dillon shook his head.

"Let's go. Now." Dillon reiterated, going over to Antonio and throwing his arm over his shoulders again. He made it to the door just as the screaming started.

Despite the screaming, The Phantom heard the door slam shut. Figures. Most who were introduced to torture in this way usually didn't stick around for long. You had to have a certain…personality trait to get into it. To want to do it. Let alone listen to it.

Before everything, he wouldn't have been the torture type, really. But his hatred toward these leeches went much, much deeper than anyone could understand. When it came down to it, he liked hearing them scream. He liked hearing them beg, ask him what he wanted. It reminded him of—

Well, in any case, those memories only fueled his hatred, drawing out their torture. It was pure and simple gratification. He never wanted anything from them. Just their pain and suffering for all the pain and suffering he'd gone through. He was still struggling with.

He liked watching their faces twist in pain, and fear. He liked watching them grit their teeth and try to hold back their screams. The tense of their bodies as the metal knife slowly slid into them. The strain of the wood-based ropes, the red welts that appeared. The sound of their gasping, wheezing breaths for air as their blood supply ran out.

That's when he usually ended their misery. He knew a desperate vampire could get him killed. And even though death was something he prayed for almost every day, going out because he was stupid or reckless around the one thing he hated the most in this world was not how he wanted it to end.


Wow, guys, it's been quite a while. I've just been really focused on my PJO story, I haven't really had time to write this one. Also, I hit a major writer's block with how to introduce the Ravenscroft family.

Speaking of, the idea actually came to me after watching Black Butler. I really liked the idea of Thierry having a "guard dog" (for those of you who've read/watched the manga/anime), and so decided to borrow that idea from Black Butler and apply it here. I was also using Season 3's first episode of the anime as a reference/outline. I hope I did it well/justice. (If you couldn't tell, my business is not my major.)

As for this last scene, I feel it may be…a bit too much? But I hope it actually isn't. You'll understand more and learn about why The Phantom does what he does and is the way he is. Not excusing his actions, but I hope it lessens the blow somewhat. I wrote these notes down during a class one day and on paper it sounded okay. Actually writing it out, I can see how…concerning it could be? Anyway, my point is I hope it isn't too much. If there are other trigger warnings you think I could add at the beginning, please feel free to tell me and I'll add them immediately.

Anyway, I do apologize for taking so long. For any of you who may, by some slim chance, still be reading this story. Life happens. I'm not sure when I'll be posting again, but I still do have big plans for this story. So, if you can be patient with me, do stay tuned and stick around. I promise you won't be disappointed.

All right, I think that's all for now. As always, I hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated! ^_^

Thank you for reading,
TheBrightestNight