I should have seen it coming from the second that wicked spark flashed across my mind- the second that I decided I needed to teach Genevieve a lesson. She was walking toward the door of the lab when I grabbed her arms and threw her in a judo move to the floor. "Genevieve, you really should learn how to defend yourself," I said as I helped her up, laughing at her bewildered expression.

"Why? And you know, Andrea, I never needed to before you came around," she replied, brushing away my hand.

"Well then, my point exactly," I countered wryly. I leaned against the operating table, absently toying with a dangling leather restraint.

"Why did you give me the shot here in the lab, anyway?" Genevieve asked. "Why not in my room as usual?"

"Convenience; had the new batch right here. And-AH!" I gasped in pain and grabbed the back or my neck. A searing lance tore through my skull and I spasmed in agony.

"Andrea, are you in pain?" Genevieve asked worriedly.

I returned her concerned stare with a burning glance, knowing without looking that my eyes had turned silver-shot amber and my skin was tinting argent. Another dull knife landed itself in the gland, and a wave of hate crashed over me. My hand shot out before I could stop it to grab her and throw her down again. "This is for every time you’ve shitted on me…and I’ll make sure you like it," I snarled at her. My arms picked her up roughly and thrust her onto the operating table, strapping her down with the leather restraints.

"Andrea!" she shrieked, voice cracking with fear.

My head cleared for an instant. "Quicksilver madness," I managed to say, my voice straining. "Oh, shit…"

The demon breaking free smacked me away. "Enjoy, little one," it hissed in my ear. "Let yourself free, let me take you where you long to be…"

"No!" I screamed. "I won’t let you! It’s my body and my brain and my damned sins! Stop! I won’t let you hurt Genevieve!"

Hate and anger flooded over my sanity like acid, eating away my control…I realized my hand had snatched out the dirk from my ankle sheath, and was now fingering the leather wrapping of the hilt. I knew my own quicksilver madness threatened to overwhelm me, the utterly lustful overwhelming longing for pain. It was an eager, slavering hound nuzzling out a rabbit, ready to tear the innocent creature apart.

Genevieve stared up at me with wide, terrified eyes, and a small whimper of fear escaped her. Instantly my dagger was at her throat. "One more word, birdie," I threatened, "and I swear I will kill you slowly, so you will know…so you can just feel the beautiful pain as I do. I’ll make you love it and never want it to end…" My hand pressed the knife along her throat and her top layer of skin parted, blood wetting the blade; whetting quicksilver madness. "More?" I asked her. She squeezed her eyes closed tightly and a tiny tear rolled down her cheek.

"Your see, your problem, Vivi, is that you don’t enjoy pain. There’s nothing wrong with it; get past your beliefs that masochism is dirty and sick. It’s only what you make it." I could see her pulse hammering in her throat, could see the naked terror burning in her eyes. My hand traced the knife’s point languidly along her collarbone…

I tore the dagger away before my hand could complete the action, barely managing to slice open my own palm instead. The red miasma choking me suddenly cleared and I swore at the pain. But then madness took hold again and my tongue licked away the slash of blood.

I tried to stand against the waves of desire and hate that rolled over me, and for an instant I managed to push them back.

"Go away!" I screamed aloud. "I’m not like this! I won’t let you torture me or her, and especially not her! I can’t force my own terrible nature, my own nightmare onto someone else…" I gasped for breath. "This fight is between me and myself."

"Why not?" My own personal demon mocked me. "You know there is nothing wrong with torture, with masochism. You know you want to. Look at her, just lying there, a beautiful helpless doll, yours for the taking. See her pretty white throat exposed just for you, just for you! Think of what her long red nails can do to your flesh. How pleasurable all that pain will be…"

My brain flashed images in front of my eyes, of Genevieve and I locked in a passionate embrace- stroking, kissing, drowning in each other…of her and I battling over Arnaud only to turn into a conquest of each other. She the diamond-and-fire goddess, me the tawny wood spirit…the golden nymph dragging down the alabaster goddess and slowly destroying every inch of her beauty with her own crimson stains…

"Genevieve," I gasped, "get out of here! Go, before I hurt you!"

She struggled against the straps holding her. "I can’t," she said wretchedly, tears forming in her eyes. "Mademoiselle, you must…you must help me."

I gritted my teeth against the pain in my skull and the overwhelming churning of desire and hate. I fumbled with the straps, my hands shaking terribly, trying to free her before the demon blew the brains out of me. I freed one of her arms just as another wave of pain and madness blasted through me.

I could feel the last shreds of my humanity being torn apart, and the pieces screamed a few last desperate commands to me. You cannot hurt Genevieve, now or ever! And no one else, either! You do not countenance pain or torture; they only debase your nature farther than you have already driven it. You cannot! Think of Laverne, think of Genevieve! Look, look at her! She was shattered by Arnaud with her own madness! Look at her, a twisted wreck! That is what you will be if you don’t stop… And if that is not enough, think of Zemina! Your dead sister, raped and tortured and killed before your eyes, crying out for you to save her. You swore to never allow that much agony to touch anyone near you ever again! Hear her cries! Think of Zemina…

Genevieve had managed to free herself and now stood before me, her abject terror of me warring with her desire to help me.

"Counteragent," I whispered to her, then collapsed to the floor. She understood and ran from the lab, leaving me alone. I crawled to where I had flung my dirk, only one thought in my head. I wrapped my hand around the hilt of the blade, and took a breath. Quicksilver madness pounded against me and I let it, intent on this one thing. I fingered the leather, tested the sharpness of the edge, and then slowly brought the blade to my wrists, slicing slowly.

I would kill myself before I let quicksilver madness ever control me again. "For you, Zima," I whispered. My head dropped to the floor as the life slowly trickled out of me.

You can’t feel my anger, you can’t feel my pain. You can’t feel my torment driving me insane. I can’t fight these feelings, they will bring you pain…You take away, I feel the change. All the promises, you promised only pain. And you take away, and leave me with nothing again…