at a proper dinner. Neither the proper meal, nor the proper woman was anything she had interest in. And the bloody steak — the steak was an insult to a predator such as herself. She needed the blood of the living, and she needed it now. But she was weak from hunger. So her target had to be as weak as she. She smiled as she heard the soft cooing of the babe carry to her from the floor below. Soon, she thought. Soon I shall be a bit stronger, then I’ll hunt the rest of them, but first… the babe. She grasped the ceramic pitcher in her hand, balancing it in her grip as she stepped just to the side of the door and hoisted it above her head. The woman stepped inside the door, shifting the serving platter to one hand to reach for the light switch with the other, and at the same time, Adrienne brought the pitcher down on her head. The woman screamed, dropped the serving platter to crash to the floor and made a blind grab for Adrienne in the darkness. But Adrienne evaded her, and slipped through the door.
Adrienne rushed past the woman and paused only briefly on the landing to get her bearings. She snarled at the colored ribbons of light flickering on the red-carpeted stairs as she gingerly side-stepped them while hurrying to the floor below, the coos of the infant guiding her to where the child lay.
She followed the sounds to a closed door where she paused. Her broken mind trying to send her images, a message of some sort about the child, but she shook her head scattering whatever it tried to tell her away. Adrienne opened the door and silently moved into the darkened room. She looked around, taking in the heavy drapes covering the windows, allowing only a tiny sliver of sunlight into the room at the far end, furthest away from the crib the child now lay in, cooing to herself, kicking her tiny feet and waving her hands in the way that babies did.
Slowly Adrienne approached the crib and leaned over, watching the baby lying helplessly there. Adrienne’s head canted to the side ever so slightly, taking in the movements of the child. Taking in the sweet, heady scent of a clean, freshly washed baby. She reached in, lifting the baby into her arms and bringing the child close to her face to inhale the sweet scent. She breathed it in deeply, pressing her nose to the child's stomach, then moving up to press her nose to the baby’s chest and neck.
The light switch behind her clicked on and the lights above them on the raised, ornate ceiling flared to life. Adrienne opened her eyes and raised them to the decorative chandelier above her head. She held the baby up with both hands, her thumbs spread across the child’s chest and shoulders, her fingers spread out across the child’s back. She held the baby up so that she could see her face-to-face, as she canted her head side-to-side once more, looking wondrously at the tiny baby girl.
“Adrienne, my darling, put her down,” a familiar voice said softly, yet firmly from the doorway behind her.
A rumble sounded in Adrienne’s chest, more a warning to the owner of the voice behind her than anything else.
“She is your daughter. She is so much like your own mother. Look at her, do you see it?” the voice asked her.
Adrienne’s brow creased as she looked at the baby still held aloft by her own hands. The baby kicked her little feet and struggled to hold her head up to look back at Adrienne. Then she did see it. This baby was so familiar.
“Her name is Solange. Do you remember, Adrienne?”
Adrienne slowly brought the baby closer to her face. Her mouth fell opened as she pressed her nose to the baby’s chest once more, revealing the small pinpoints of her still developing fangs.
Solange reached out with both hands and gripped Adrienne’s greasy, dirty hair where it fell, plastered against her temples and her cheeks.
Adrienne tried to pull back a bit, but Solange held tight. When finally Adrienne pulled back enough to look into the baby’s face, Solange cooed at her, offering a slobbery, toothless grin.
Adrienne’s face crumpled into a grimace as bloodstained tears tracked their way down her face. This was her little girl. This baby knew her, trusted her.
“Solange,” Adrienne whispered.
“Yes. Solange. And she’s yours,” Marceline said, her own voice