The way I figured it, if those mindless things were coming after me, whether I liked it or not, why not throw them a welcoming party? I'd take pride in being the best hostess they'd ever had. Everything was laid out for their hearts' desire—never mind that I had no idea if they even had hearts. I aimed to please and surprise them so hard they'd drop dead on the spot. If I were a lucky girl. But I was a believer, and that's why I was at a construction site in the middle of Manhattan, making sure my guests had everything arranged for their pleasure: thirteen hearts, two Desert Eagles, some throwing knives, and last but not least, my two Butterflies—Butter and Fly. 

I never claimed to be creative. The hearts were among my favorite weapons, metal shaped into perfect hearts—almost paper-thin and able to cut through anything, except bone. My Desert Eagles, a heaven of black aluminum and stainless steel, fit perfectly in my hands. My throwing knives had become like removable fingers to me, and my Butterflies were my most prized possessions. The blades were as long as my forearm, making them easy to conceal and carry. They were identical, with longer-than-usual crossguards that allowed me to hold them in several different positions; their single-edged blades sliced through bone with ease. I loved my babies, and I was pretty sure my guests were going to... Oh, shoot. I blew it, didn't I? I'd arranged everything for my pleasure, not theirs. Bad, bad, Scarlet.

Resisting a smile was impossible. I'd waited for this night for over two years, and it was finally coming together the way I wanted it to. My magic surged in short bursts of energy. I couldn't see it, but I felt it. I intensified it while holding my breath, because I needed my guests to arrive soon. Rain poured heavily outside. It was cold up here, on the ninth floor of the building under reconstruction. The walls were missing, and tools littered the ground—tools I'd use as weapons if necessary.

And my guests... I wasn't sure what they were, but they looked pretty ordinary if you missed their pupils, which were vertically slit like a cat's. Oh, and they were all men, too. No idea why. The first time I saw one was almost two years ago. He chased me like a hawk its prey until he cornered me in an alley and began to suck me dry. Vampires were bad, but this guy? He was horror incarnate. He drained my powers and left me for dead. I didn't wake up for a full day afterward. At the time, I had no idea what had happened or what he'd done to me. I thought he'd taken all my magic, never to be restored again. To this day, I still can't figure out if I was happy or sad about it. But my magic returned, just like always, and within forty-eight hours, I was as good as new.

It was another three months before I encountered Mindless Thingies Two and Three. They did exactly what the first one had, and I bounced back just the same. I called them mindless because they never spoke. I'd never heard any of them utter a single word or make a sound. They came, they stared, they smiled, and they sucked power. They felt it, too. That's how they found me four times in a row before I learned to shield myself. Shield my powers. 

Which was another thing I had no idea about, because I'd never met anyone like me or anyone who knew others with the same kind of magic. I had magic; I felt it and could use it, but didn't. Using it meant attracting the mindless thingies, and you never knew when they might decide to end me for good. I'd spent a lifetime hiding my magic, but hiding it from them was a whole other story. They felt it, even when I wasn't using it, so I had to teach myself how to lock it deep inside. It took me a year, but now it was as easy as breathing.

My eyes closed as I focused on my ears. When I heard footsteps a floor below me, I let out a long breath and turned around. It was time to properly welcome my guests. With Butter in one hand, Fly hidden under my sleeve, and four throwing knives in the other, I was ready. Guns were fun, but they didn't seem to hurt them—at least not unless I got close and personal, the barrel kissing their skulls. It was just a theory, one I had yet to prove, but I was taking my chances.

The first one who stepped onto the open floor, surrounded by dirt, tools, and a few pillars, was really tall. His black hair was slicked back, his muscles rippling under his black shirt. After him came three others. They all looked somewhat alike, but not quite. At first glance, you'd think they were brothers, but if you looked closely, you'd spot the differences—like how the second guy's eyes were wide-set, the third was bald, and the fourth had muscles like he was on steroids. A chill crept up my spine. I was prepared for only two, because they always came after me in pairs. Fear snaked its way to my throat, forming a lump that made it hard to breathe. The thunder outside shook the building in response to my hammering heart. 

They all smiled at me, and I smiled back. "Scared" didn't even begin to describe how I felt, but I wasn't backing down. I was tired of running. It was time to serve them a few refreshments—my throwing knives. Locking down my magic tightly inside, I threw all four knives at once and ran forward in the same breath. They were ready, as ready as ever, charging at me in an instant, oblivious to the knives now buried in their bodies. Swinging my arm, I caught the first one across the face with my sword. Blood exploded, spraying my face as I spun around and took out the next. They each tried to grab my hair—a move I expected. I dodged away and swung my arms as fast as I could.

There were four of them and one of me, and no matter how much of a kick-ass I thought I was, I had to step back while they came after me with fists and kicks. But that was a move I anticipated. I left my other weapons in the middle of the room, and now I was barely four feet away from them. Good thing the mindless thingies didn't use weapons. Bad thing: their fists were huge and felt like hammers—like the one the bald guy hit me with on the jaw. No teeth came out that I could tell, but my vision blurred long enough for one of them to kick me straight in the chest and send me flying. I landed on my back on the concrete floor. The fist that came for my face sent my senses into overdrive, and I began swinging my arms uncontrollably. The next thing I knew, a fist was actually on my face—except now it was detached from the rest of the arm.