The killer pointed the gun at her forehead, the lust for blood that hadn't been slated with the latest murder evident in his crazed eyes. The dagger held in his other hand gleamed brightly with her blood in the Seattle night lights, and Minerva remembered wondering why her blood seemed so bright.

Wind had been warning her for several months that she had been behaving with arrogance, so it was no one's fault that she was staring in the face of death. Flight or fight had numbed the wound on her thigh, but she knew that it continued to flow freely. The wound would need to be closed soon or she would bleed to death.

Reason and all thought abandoned her, the primal need to survive forced her to reach out the power she hated but loved at the same. Minerva tried to convince herself that she was doing it for Ashley, that she had to live for her but she knew that wasn't entirely true. She wanted the power too, craved it. The power was addictive, the feeling of invincibility a powerful drug.

The killer, an ordinary man given the courage and power to act on his dark, bloody fantasies, grinned manically as his finger squeezed at the trigger. Minerva tightly closed her eyes as she frantically grabbed for the power that would save her from the bullet, but remained stubbornly out of reach.

"Now you die, demon bitch."

The gun shot rang loudly against the already loud sounds of Seattle.

Heated liquid—blood her brain informed her—splashed across her face.

Ashley…

Then the darkness of death consumed her, crushing down on her like a roaring wave.

Sorry…

Two months later…

Minerva flicked the soft pointed corners of the old photo with her right index finger. The photo was worn from years of travels in the washing machine, rolled up in dirty laundry, numerous wallets, bags, pockets, purses, being stuffed in drawers, bras, and was covered in dried tears. The photo was her reminder of why she put up with the daily shit, a reminder when death seemed so much easier, and a reward for all the fucked up things she'd seen and done.

Minerva set the photo face down on the couch and rested her feet on the coffee table. The healed stab wound on her thigh itched, causing her toes to twitch in discomfort. It still pissed her off that the damn demon had gotten the best of her. Her! Not only had Minerva nearly been killed by the low level demon, but an agent from The Agency had been the one to save her. And of course, it hadn't been just any agent that saved her; no it had been none other than that judgmental bastard Thomas Moore. She could barely tolerate The Agency on a good day, and that had been a shit awful night. Most of all Minerva hated being in the debt of others.

Her phone rang, cutting through her angry thoughts, and Minerva almost let the call go to voicemail because of her annoyed mood, but caught the call before it went to voicemail.

"Scarlett." She answered, scratching at the old wound knowing that if Wind were there he would scold her. The old weapon had this annoying belief that it was the end of the world if a woman was scarred—like Minerva gave a flying fuck if she had scars.

"It's Rustle, Minerva." Rustle greeted, the faint sounds of keyboard clicks in the background. Rustle was a genius when it came to anything technology related. Before they had met, Rustle had been employed by a group of possessed humans that were stealing possessed objects in the hopes of gaining more demons in their stupid little gang. Rustle had managed to get the best of her a few times before Minerva became pissed. It had cost Minerva a number of favors to find Rustle, but when she did Minerva made sure that when everything was said and done he was working for her.

"What's up, Rusty?"

"There's been talk about the agent that saved your bacon two months again." Minerva could hear the shit eating grin in Rustle's voice, and it had her grinding her teeth.

"Yeah, so?" She demanded in a clipped tone, itching at the damn wound again.

"He wants to set up a meeting."

That surprised her. "A meeting?"

"Yup."

"Did he say why?"

"Nope. Apparently, he sent out the word via a possessed human."

"He didn't exercise the possessed human later?"

"Not that I know of." Interesting.

"That's not normal behavior for the agent."

"That's why I called you." Rustle said slowly, as if talking to a child. Minerva pulled the phone from her ear and gave it the bird before putting it back to her ear.

A thought occurred to her, causing her to groan, "God, you don't think he's going to try to recruit me again, do you?"

"I doubt it. Didn't you have me sign him up for a dozen gay dating sites last time he offered you a job?" Rustle laughed.

"He pissed me off with that self-righteous attitude of his. 'You think you're helping but you're acting foolishly and dangerously. Sooner or later someone will get hurt because of your actions, and I'll have to clean up the mess.'" Minerva quoted in a deep, mocking voice.

"Yeah, yeah the guy sucks. So are you going to meet with him?"

That was the million dollar question. Something serious must be going on in the background for Mr. Holier-than-thou to use a possessed human without exercising him to get this message to her. "Sure, why not?" Minerva gave him the time, date, and place to set the meeting. "Make sure you cycle it down through the same network he used. Let me know if he exercises the messenger."

"Sure thing, Minerva." Rustle answered, and hung up.

Picking up the old photo, Minerva wondered what God's gift to humanity wanted to discuss. Whatever it was, she would know in a few days.

She had a shit eating grin of her own when she thought of where the meeting was taking place. Minerva couldn't wait.

Thomas sighed deeply, knowing he should have expected Minerva to pull something like this, as he pulled into the parking lot of The Midnight Lounge. At first glance The Midnight Lounge looked like a popular night club, but in reality The Midnight Lounge was one of the city's more popular strip club.

The Agency, while it saw Minerva as a possible asset to the company because of her various connections in the Underworld, she was also the person of interest in several possessed human deaths. Minerva had made a name for herself in that last few year, leaving her with the only options of joining with The Agency or be arrested. She may be arrogant and smart mouthed but Thomas had no doubt that she would be an amazing agent if he could only get her to see the truth of how dangerous her current actions were.

Thomas learned of Minerva through a rumor about a human girl who had been successfully finding both cursed object and possessed humans, and making deals with the demons. He had been a little green around the edges and it had shocked the hell out of him. It was so surprising that Thomas refused to believe it to be true. Then he met Minerva.

He'd only known her as Scarlett back then, the mystery character who would weekly leave possessed humans on the doorstep of The Agency with notes saying I found some naughty children. Please give them a proper scolding and spanking before sending them home. Love Scarlett. The older agents felt insulted by Minerva and were quick to look down their noses at her, but she impressed him. Despite the rumors about her making deals, Thomas quickly built Minerva up into an ally that shared the same beliefs and ideals as him and The Agency. That image was quickly shattered the day he finally met Minerva.

Thomas and another agent had been assigned to retrieve a cursed object. It didn't take much digging to find out the man had hired a witch to break the seal on the cursed object, and even less time to find their hidden location. Just as Thomas had been about to announce himself, Minerva leapt at him from the shadows. The first punch had been a surprise, but the second one he was able to counter. She had had some formal training but her skills were nowhere near advanced, however she was somehow holding her own against him. His partner let out a grunt of pain quickly followed by a dull crack.

"Hurry the fuck up and release the girl!" Thomas remembered his shock at her demand. It was obvious that the demon seal away was too dangerous to be freed. "No killing the other agent, Wind!" Minerva snapped, never taking her eyes off him.

"Why are you doing this? That creature is dangerous!" He had been expecting a reason, something that would save his idea of her. Thomas hadn't been expecting Minerva to give him a sweet smile.

"Why you ask? Well because I can." Thomas was taken aback by her causal answer. She took advantage of his surprise by attacking, throwing him off balance. Minerva followed him down, the butt of her gun raised above her. "Sorry, agent," she murmured and struck. Later, after he regained consciousness, Thomas heard that the man and the demon imprisoned in the cursed object had fallen in love, and that Minerva had been hired to protect them. The Agency was of course searching for the couple, but Thomas had a feeling a certain someone was blocking their efforts.

After that they had only met a handful of times, and their last meeting he'd offered her a job with The Agency. Minerva had grinned as told him where Thomas could put his job offer before disappearing. And until two months ago that had been that last time he had seen Minerva. The incident two months ago had led to the decision that Minerva was too becoming too dangerous and needed to be brought in because it was believed that the steady increase in demonic activity was somehow connected to her. Thomas had demanded time, stating that he had a plan. His request has been reluctantly approved because The Agency believed Minerva would listen to the man who saved her life; Thomas had no such belief, so he didn't plan on using it against her during their meeting. He would have saved her regardless, so he saw no point in bringing it up.

Wondering why he cared so much, he got out of his car with another deep sigh.

"You shouldn't sigh; you'll let your happiness out." A soft voice informed him. Looking to the opposite side of his car Thomas saw a tall—though still an inch or two shorter than him—Asian man with slightly long black hair. He wore nothing but black and he kept his expression neutral as Thomas examined him. The hair on the back of his neck stood, he hadn't heard the man approach.

"Who—?"

"I was asked to collect you. It's best not to keep her waiting."

"Minerva?"

"Yes," He answered, walking towards to the entrance.

"Um, who are you?" The man only ignored Thomas as he navigated through the various chairs and stages. There were several women on stage in several states of dress, the men grinning happily as they tucked dollar bills into the hem lines of the dancers' outfits. The room was bathed in different neon lights, making it difficult to follow the Asian without bumping into the local patrons. Thomas found the Asian disappearing up a flight of stairs and hurried to follow him. The second floor of the club held a number of private rooms, several of which had the doors closed. He could heard different music playing from those rooms, and saw the shadows dancing women. Pulling his eyes away from the shadows, Thomas looked to see the Asian waiting by a door at towards the end of the hall.

The Asian stepped to the side, gesturing for him to enter. As soon as Thomas opened the door, he nearly choked on his tongue when he found Minerva slowly spinning around the pole at the center of the room. Her left leg was securely around the pole, her right leg and torso made a perfect line as she held her bare arms out the side with her palms facing upwards. The red lacey shirt she wore left little to the imagination with it open completely down the center, a string being the only thing holding the fabric over her breasts together.

"Oh finally, agent!" Minerva exclaimed and in a single fluid motion pulled herself up, dropping her feet to the ground. Her hair, the color of a dull penny, was pulled back into a ponytail with the shorter pieces falling to frame her face. Thomas noticed that while her top was extremely revealing, her lower body was incased in tight black pants and black boots. She was prepared to run if needed. "I was getting bored. You really shouldn't keep a girl waiting. Though, I do suppose that there are a lot of pretty distractions here, so I'll forgive you this once." Taking a seat on one of the cushions surrounding the pole, she called out to the Asian behind him, "Watch the door, will you? I would hate for another agent to bother us."

"Mmm." The man replied, shutting the door softly.

"Thank you!" Minerva sang out.

"I didn't bring any other agents with me." Thomas confessed as he took a seat near her.

"Yes, well there is always an overzealous rookie trying to make a name for himself in the ranks," she shrugged.

Thomas nodded, knowing there were at least a dozen agents that would love to bring her in. "How is your leg?"

"Itchy," she answered shortly. "I didn't realize this was a social call. Should I call for some entertainment and refreshments? I heard that Glitter is a favorite at this club, though she is a little expensive."

"You know I'm not here for that."

"Why are you here then, agent?"

"Thomas Moore," he answered instead. When she gave him a blank look, he clarified, "My name is Thomas."

"I'm aware of your name, agent," Minerva sighed. "I just don't see a point in using it."

"I see," Thomas bit out, her high and mighty attitude annoying him. Taking a deep breath so not to say anything he might regret, Thomas decided to just get to the point. "I want you to work five cases with me."

"Oh? Is that so? And why should I?"

"Because you're reckless."

"So I'm told often," Minerva gave a humorless laugh. "Try again, agent."

"You were nearly killed two months ago because of it, Minerva. Your behavior is either going to get you killed or someone around you. Hell, even both." Thomas snapped, running a hand through his hair. He could still see the possessed human standing over her; gun pointed at her, her dagger in his other hand dripping with her blood. "You let a demon—and a weak one at that—somehow manage to get your own weapon and harm you with it!"

"So now you're going to blackmail me!?" Minerva demanded angrily, jumping to her feet.

"No!" Thomas shouted, getting to his feet as well, "I want to decrease the level of crime! I want to decrease the level of demons taking control of innocent people and forcing them to commit murder! And whether I like it or not you are one of the few who actually have the power to that!"

"Working together won't change that, agent!"

Thomas glared hatefully at her, "You have a chance—!"

Minerva cut across him, moving to get in his face, "Nothing will change because you and The Agency are too narrow-minded!" She snapped, "Don't you dare talk down to me when you yourselves won't look at other options!"

"Why the hell do you think I'm here!?"

"You're here not to find out how I manage to actually find possessed humans without them needing to create chaos to do it! You want my connections to find the source of demons!" She spat back at him, "You want to fucking use me and you obviously haven't got the respect to tell me to my face! So no, you stupid son of a bitch, I won't help you at all!"

Thomas opened his mouth to tell her that if she refused to work with him he would arrest her when he felt the tip of a knife pressed lightly against his Adam apple.

"Get out of my way, agent," Minerva bit out harshly. Thomas held up his hands as he slowly stepped to the side. Minerva kept the tip pressed against him as she mirrored his slowed movements. When she was completely in front of him, she lowered the knife. Thomas moved to grab her now that he was free to move again when she brought her foot up between his legs, sending him to the ground in the fetal position. Thomas looked up to find her green eyes narrowed on him before she turned away. Minerva didn't spare him a second glance as she left.

Minerva sat with her back facing the TV, her attention focused on the dominos purposely placed on the coffee table. She had been making various shapes and swirls for the last day and a half since meeting with Thomas.

Wind stood, leaning with his arms crossed on the counter directly across from her, behind the couch. Wind was of Japanese descent that appeared to be in his early forties but was far older, though Minerva wasn’t quite sure how old. He wore a loose fitting black—his signature color—shirt and dark wash jeans. Despite Thomas having twenty pounds of muscles over Wind, Minerva held no doubts that he could easily overpower Agent Moore. His should length hair was tied in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck. Wind had been mimicking a statue for most of the day, his dark eyes fixed onto her.

“Just say what’s on your mind.”

“You need to stop allowing your emotions to dictate your action, Minerva.”

“I’m not,” She denied, shooting at glare at him. “Stop scolding me like a child.”

“Only a child closes the ears when listening.”

“I listened to everything that damn agent had to say!”

“No, you walked into that meeting choosing to refuse everything he offered.”

“He offered nothing but a leash and handcuffs! The Agency doesn’t want to work with me, Wind, they want to control and use me. Thomas is just their tool of choice.”

“His actions earn him respect regardless. You owe the man your life and he spoke nothing but the truth to you, you dishonor yourself by ignoring what he had to say.”

“I would have been fine, that agent was just sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Both him and The Agency know I’m stronger than them, that’s why they’re trying to get me to agree this asinine joining teams crap!” Minerva retorted angrily, pushing to her feet. Wind knew she hated being in anyone’s debt. She was in this current situation because of a debt shoved onto her from centuries ago.

“Only a fool measures power in strength.”

“Oh, so now I’m a fool?”

Wind narrowed his eyes, his mouth turning down at the corners. “It’s foolish to speak with a fool,” He muttered dismissively, shifting to take the form of a dagger, and effectively ending their discussion. Vibrating with anger, Minerva strode quickly over to where Wind laid on the ground.

“Asshole!” She gasped as an electric shock traveled up her arm when she bent to pick up the dagger. Shaking away the pins and needles, Minerva muttered darkly, “Who’s acting childish now?”

Tempted to kick the dagger, Minerva turned and headed into her room. She wasn’t going to sit here and deal with Wind’s philosophical bullshit. Grabbing the sunglasses Rustle made her, her bag, and phone Minerva left the apartment. Normally she went scouting in populated areas because it gave the greatest amount of results, but at one in the afternoon the streets would have to do.

It was no surprise Minerva found King walking beside her as she left the apartment building. King was fond of the more violent emotions like anger because that was when people made rash and quick decisions. King always appeared to her as a twelve year old boy, though he liked to change how he looked. Sometimes he would look so angelic it was hard for Minerva to remember that he was a powerful five hundred year old blood demon, other times he reminded her of an anime character with the wide eyes and strange hair color. Today, thankfully his appearance was normal. His hair was the color of red wine that was in contrast to his electric blue eyes and he was covered in freckles.

“Are you going to lecture me too, King?” Minerva questioned, sticking a small blue tooth device in her ear.

“Of course not,” the boy grinned, revealing dimples. “Going hunting?”

“I don’t hunt, I scout. There is a subtle difference.” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear to make sure the blue tooth was visible. King caught the movement.

“You’re fortunate to live in an age with such devices. Those would have kept some of the others alive or free a bit longer.”

“I doubt it. It tends to freak people out when you suddenly appear to them, and no one else is able to see you. That pretty much defines crazy.”

“Yet you stubbornly remain sane.”

“I got lucky.” Unlike Dad, Minerva thought sadly. It had been because of King that she had a family history riddled with paranoid schizophrenics and mental illness. Her grandfather had been in and out of hospitals for most of her father’s life. Back then mental illness wasn’t as well understood or treated correctly, and Minerva’s father had had a hard time growing up. Her father’s greatest fear had come to past the day her grandfather died, transferring King over to the next blood related family member. He had silently struggled with King for nearly three years before ending his life and passing King onto her. If it hadn’t been for the journals her father left behind and the vampire coming after her several months later, Minerva had no doubts she’d be rocking back and forth in a padded room.

“I don’t know why you bother with hunting for such weak demons to begin with,” King whined. “They’re mostly from the first circle of hell, maybe a few from the second circle. It’s not like they’re powerful.”

Rolling her eyes, Minerva put the sunglasses on. They functioned like the ones that Evan Hunt used in Mission Impossible. Except these glasses recorded and sent videos straight to Rustle’s computers instead of simply monitoring.

“It’s not about power, King.” Minerva answered softly as she activated what she called The Filter. Minerva looked for and made deals with the demons because she understood what it was like to be confused. She explained to the host what was going on, and offered to help teacher them how to deal with the demons living inside them if they wanted to remain the same, or she offered to place the demons in an object to free the unwilling host. If the demon rejected her deal, Minerva handed them over to The Agency.

The world quickly grew devoid of color, and only those who were possessed by demons held any color. Those who had brighter colors were the ones with the demons who had more control over the host’s body. She moved against the flow of traffic to catch the faces of those hosts. It was left up to Rustle to find out the necessary information on the hosts discovered.

Minerva only went after the hosts that held the least amount of control over their bodies. If The Agency handled things differently, she would have gladly passed along the information collected. However The Agency only saw demons as an infectious disease that needed to be eradicated.

Minerva was certain that The Filter was one of the main reasons she was stuck with the demon taking up current residence in her body. The other was obviously his power. King gave her the bare essentials of the original deal and nothing more, so most of what she knew was guesswork with nothing truly solid. If Minerva wanted more information she had to make deals with King, and she wasn’t stupid enough to agree to that.

“Of course it is. The powerful are the ones who control the world.”

“Not according to Wind.”

“He’s what he is today because of power.”

Wind’s cryptic words floated around in her head. Demon and weapon had different definitions of what it meant to have power. Minerva had always believed that being strong was what power was, but in the great, giant mass of the grey world surrounding her there was so much more color than in the past. Here she had one of the more powerful demons inside her, but Minerva could hardly use that power without nearly killing herself. What was she trying to accomplish before the blood curse finally got her? Sure, Minerva had a number of demons that had agree to the terms of her deals, but she wasn’t immortal. Nothing in her world was a guarantee; as soon as Minerva died those same demons would be free again to run wild.

Minerva accused Thomas of refusing to change, but she was just as guilty. Wind had been right to call her stupid and childish. Everything she was doing now was no better than putting a Band-Aid on festering cut. Thomas told her that she was one of the few people with the power to change the world, but Minerva couldn’t do it alone. As much as she hated it, Minerva needed Thomas. She realized that Thomas was willing to actually work with her while The Agency just wanted to use her to keep up the never-ending cycle of exorcising the demons only to have others take their place.

But Minerva needed to know was Thomas capable of change?

Only one way to find out.