I have no idea what to make of Ms Pink’s admission. There’s the promise of something deeply moving in those words but her actions have done nothing to inspire any trustworthiness either.

“You will go out there and tell Yoona you want to be mine.”

“What if I don’t?”

The pink in her eyes blazes like wild fire stoked by an abundance of flammables and it twists something inside me. “I’ll claim you anyway.”

Her answer doesn’t surprise me. Not anymore. So I simply nod and stand. “I’ll be right back.”

“I do not like to be kept waiting.”

“I’ll try to be quick.”

X

The lanky figure at the end of the corridor looks up at me as I approach her.

“Ms Yoona, I am here to tell you that I will go with Ms Pink.”

“Ms Yoona?” The vampire slayer snickers. “You’re as submissive as they come. It’s no wonder Tiffany is holding on to you. But I’m no Ms Pink. You can call me Yoona. And no, you should not go with Tiffany. I’m sure she’s worked some kind of influence on you to make you say this to me.” She reaches for her holster and presses a gun on my side. An intense blast of shock jolts through my system and I scream.

“Yoona!” The shock doesn’t last beyond a second and my mind is considerably clearer as I turn towards Ms Pink who has sped to my side. She freezes suddenly and I wonder why, until I see the same black gun pressed against her side. “Yoona…” she snarls in warning.

“I told you to play fair.”

“You don’t get to make the demands. Neither do I accede to demands made by you.”

Yoona shakes her head slowly. “I am disappointed in the great Tiffany Pink. Who would have thought an all-powerful vampire like you would need to resort to mind control trickery to bend a human to your will.”

M-Mind control? Oh my God. Is that why I felt a little weird after looking into those pink eyes?

“I don’t need to resort to such things to bend a stupid human’s will. Much lessthis stupid human. But I have better things to do than to hang around you and talk. Time is running out. You don’t want the vanguards to come sniffing around here because of her.”

Ms Pink is pointing at me. Why is she pointing at me? And who are the vanguards?

“I suppose you have a point.” Yoona nods. “I’ll let her go with you. But I want some of her blood.”

“I’ll have 10 cc of her blood sent to you.”

There they go again. Talking about me as though I don’t exist, as though my blood is theirs to give and take. “Don’t you think you should ask for mypermission when it’s my blood you’re talking about?”

Both Ms Pink and Yoona turn to me. “Shut up,” they snap with scary glares.

My stomach shrinks in fear. “Okay,” I say in a small, small voice.

X

So here I sit, in Ms Pink’s car, with Yoona’s last words buzzing in my head: ‘Have a good time with her royal majesty the Pink! I hope you make it back in one piece.’ For goodness sakes, can I have one calm moment where I am not bombarded by threats, orders and thoroughly confusing terms that I’ve never heard of in my life?

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I’m blindfolding you.”

“W-Why? I won’t do anything, I promise.”

“Or would you rather be knocked out like the last time?”

With a great, big sigh, I close my eyes. A smooth, silky cloth grazes my skin and soon, it is tied securely around my head, preventing me from seeing anything other than darkness. And then, we’re off.

X

I’m really sleepy as we speed along. In fact, I end up falling asleep and wake up to find myself in Ms Pink’s arms, standing in a hallway. Oh my God!

“Shut up. You’re not in danger.”

Embarrassment crashes upon my shores and I squirm. I’m a grown woman. I can walk by myself.

“Hold on tight,” she says, and without warning, she moves like a cheetah on legs, and the walls turn into a blur. We come to a stop a couple of seconds later and I stop screaming too. Holy creeps, this is scarier than a roller coaster ride. “Remind me to gag you before doing this the next time.”

She sets me back on the ground and my first instinct is to bolt but she is holding on to my dress so unless I’m willing to part with the only piece of clothing that maintains my modesty…

“Get in.”

I enter the room, half afraid of what might happen to me if I don’t, and half curious to find out what’s inside. Pink walls, pink ceiling, pink bed…hold on. What are those things hanging on the wooden rank on the wall? They look scary. There are chains hanging from the ceiling and I don’t think they are for swings or anything fun and innocent like that. Less than two steps in, and I am regretting ever helping Sunny with the interview. If I hadn’t helped Sunny, I wouldn’t have met Ms Pink and I wouldn’t be in this—

Ms Pink yanks me up against a circle of wood marked with a gigantic pink cross in the middle of it and once again, employs her super-human Speedy Gonzales skills to strap my wrists and ankles in, spread-eagled. I am left feeling like a piece of meat hung for sale, and the way she looks at me only emphasizes my state of utter powerlessness. She reaches for the straps of my summer dress and I hear the distinct sound of fabric ripped.

“What—”

She covers my mouth with her hand and proceeds to rip the other strap off. By now, I’m in panic and there’s nothing I want more than to be free of my straps but they are durable and do not give way.

“MMM!” I scream against her hand. “MMM!”

But all is in vain as she takes my dress and rips it down the middle. One more ripping sound later, a wad of what used to be my lovely blue summer dress, is stuffed into my mouth. Oh my God. I am in so much trouble. Why didn’t I go with Yoona! Because Ms Pink pulled some mind games on me. I’m well and truly ed now.

Her cold, cold finger tips burn a lazy trail down the middle of my chest to my navel before taking a turn to my birthmark. It’s a small little spot near my hip and I’m reminded of the words she said before: ‘Stupid human. It’s not a mole.’What is it then? My curiosity is piqued.

“Now that you’re nice and quiet, it’s time for you to get what you deserve.” Ms Pink picks up a strange device from the chest of drawers near the door and brandishes it at me. I stare at it. Long, pink and pointy tip. What? She raises it and grazes the bare skin on my side with the pointy tip. Upon contact, I realize the pointy tip is actually a feather. A fine, thin and—oh my God—ticklish feather. It trails up and down my arms, legs, sides, barely touching me at all, just the tip, and leaves a sensation that begs me to scratch it.

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