When The Mind Is Faulty

        It was a cold and stormy Tuesday, there was a blast of wind as Erika entered the bar, the conversation inside was loud. Everyone trying to top the next conversation, something she’d grown used to by now, forcing her way through the sea of people to the only available bar stool, she sat down making herself comfortable. Ordering herself a double scotch on ice, once it arrived her eyes scanned the crowd around her, watching people that were getting themselves in trouble, others dancing and most huddled around a snooker table.         The night was young and so was Erika, she was dressed in a black body con dress, her olive skin shining and her long blonde wavy hair shining as the lights dimmed and the show lights came on. Her demeanour changed as she was approached, three men, all in black, with the sunglasses to match, she waved them off, not interested. But they all seemed to take offence. Starting to call her names, starting to agitate her in ways she couldn’t handle, she just wanted to spend one night as human as she possibly could, but these, these men couldn’t allow that. The one night she wanted to spend it being allowed to dance and give off a vibe she’d worked so hard on, so hard to perfect in a human way. Now ruined by the absent minds of three disgustingly immoral men.          She tutted and waggled her index finger at them before nodding towards the door, where she was about to hand their asses to them. She enjoyed a fight, especially one she could win, see women, where she was from, were trained to be warriors to protect their kind, their species as it were, at least before they all decided to mould into one and live with the humans who thought they were all somehow Gods and Goddesses. She hopped off the stool and headed outside, where she dipped into the side alley, they seemed to follow eagerly with their whistles and their calls. One sentence got her amped up. “Three at once, you are a clever one.” Someone called to her. Which was when she turned around, her eyes glowing blue.         For a moment they screamed until she spoke words. “Don’t scream my children, I am not here to hurt you… Okay, maybe a little.” She ran and jumped on one, exposing her fangs, she dug them deep into his throat, sucking the blood from within. The next she wasn’t as kind and the third, she asked him to scream for her, something she enjoyed in a chase, even though humans were never a fun choice to play with. She rolled her eyes and finished him off, his screams were music to her ears. After a little cleaning up she managed to walk out of the alleyway, acting as if nothing had happened. Something she was good at, being one thousand and eight hundred and seventy years old. She could walk in the sun if she wanted to, but who had time for waiting around for the strength to return.         She made it home just after sunrise, her house was already prepared for her, darkness roamed the halls, so did her servants, well more likely slaves she’d brought of the black market. Something only the “World of Darkness” would understand, whenever someone knocked on the door she had a butler to answer for her, she had servants to bring her blood bags and even humans if she’d ask. One thing she would never tell them about her basement. Her torturous adventures happened in there. Sometimes with other vampires, but mostly to discipline her servants. Her servants were supposed to answer to her and only her, so when they disobeyed and answered to guests or other people she may have over. Later that night they would be taught their lesson.         Erika couldn’t lie she had her favourite little pet, the one that lived in the house with her and not in a cage in the garage like the others. He was housed in her servant quarters, he was not used for drinking from, he was just there for entertainment. For a little game if you will, Erika would often get bored of her pets, but this one… This one was odd to her. “Jeremiah! Jeremiah come here right this instant.” She shouted as she slammed the door behind her the other servants scurried away in candlelight, Jeremiah appearing in pure darkness, his features were a pleasure to look at.          “Yes, Ma’am? How can I be of service to you tonight?” He stood, staring at the ground, as he usually did, he must have been taught in slave school to never look at a Goddess when one spoke to him.          With one pale, cold and bloodied finger she lifted the man's head Looking him dead in the eyes. “I want you to entertain me, tell me, child… How do you propose to do such a thing?” She kept a finger under his chin, holding his face up so she could look over her features.         “Well ma’am, I was thinking we could dance, I’m good at Salsa, Foxtrot and Ballroom dancing.” His eyes lit up with passion, he had a love for dance, he would practise alone in his room at times, when he was locked in and alone.         “Dancing, I haven’t been asked to dance politely since 1931.” She smiled, releasing the man and taking a step back. “Well boy, what are you waiting for?”         “Would you like to dance ma’am?” He held out a hand and bowed, it was also something he had learnt from books, he had read, the only material she would supply was old and dreamy. As if she still waited for her special someone to appear and rule the darkness with her.         “I would.” She took his hand and made a slight courtesy.  They then walked to the middle of her living room which counselled out as a ballroom if and when she bothered to throw functions, something rare but often fantastic and magical. She was currently on her fourth wave of Servants, Jeremiah though had been there since the first wave, just a twelve-year-old boy who knew no better than to fear anyone that wasn’t in the servant colour of this house. Which was, of course, was a boring dull grey colour, Jeremiah, the butler and the cook had worked their way up to black tuxedos and a blue summer dress for her precious cook. Afterall she kept her servants alive, even if it was to the bare minimum standard. She didn’t need strong women or men, she just needed them strong enough to make beds and wash her clothes and or those who stayed.         The music playing softly took her back to her twenty-first birthday, a few thousand years ago. She was a well-known dancer, she was always invited and almost always attended the balls with her family. So when they started to dance, she closed her eyes, following his lead as they danced the salsa, foxtrot and then finished a few hours later with some traditional ballroom dancing. She appreciated the effort this little child of hers had put in. Her favourite pet yet again surprising her, which in a way she liked. The more she was surprised the more likely she was going to allow him to survive the next bloodshed that came with her next ball.         She then released the young male, before looking at him and yet again his gaze fell to his feet. She wondered where he was raised, how he was so fragile yet manly. She had a lot to think about, let alone have to worry about Jeremiah so she questioned him. "Child, why do you never look me in my eye?"         "I was told by my tutor, never look the lady of the house in the eye, she would be uncomfortable, probably enough to eat you. So I don't ma'am. I don't want to be eaten." His voice was cold yet somewhat playful.          "My child, I would never harm my favourite little pet. You may look me in the eye whenever you please, don't be afraid and you won't need to worry about the next feast. In fact. For the ball, you will attend. At my side." Her own tone was cold but deadly serious, she wanted others to see her pet, she wanted to flaunt him in front of everyone. Tell them he was the cream of the crop, the one and only one that she would ever consider keeping, obviously along with the butler and the cook. But he mattered the most at present.         Jeremiah nodded toward her, looking up at her and landing on her face, she could see the admiration in his eye, something she enjoyed. It made her feel as if she was needed, wanted and of course worshipped. What was a Goddess without at least her favourite loyal follower?