For the Hopeless

Chapter 4: Believe

"You know I'm right, don't you?" she asked, that smile of hers shifting into a smirk, taunting the girl. "You're too stupid to agree with my other points, but at least you're smart enough to realize that you couldn't make it alone. Right?"

"I...You...You're..." Hayden's face was beginning to turn beet red, either from rage or embarrassment, perhaps both. She stammered another string of pronouns, then let out an annoyed, less-than-ladylike huff and pushed past Bailey. The door slammed behind her, leaving Bailey to grin outright, left alone with Madeleine.

"She got ashes on the carpet," the young girl decided to point out, gesturing to a pile of gray ashes that looked as though they amounted to nearly half of a forgotten cigarette. The rest of it was still with Hayden, more than likely still forgotten.

"Would you like me to clean them up?" Bailey asked, her dark brown eyes on Madeleine. She frowned suddenly, realizing that her smile – or maybe that evil aura that seemed to be growing around her with each change in said smile – was frightening her. Her aqua-blue eyes, adorably large in her small, innocent face, were widened in a vague sense of fear, as though she was trying to hide it, but failing horribly. Even Bailey, monster as she was, couldn't bear to scare such a sweet girl – the cute, blonde hair tied in cute, braided pig tails didn't help, either.

"N-no," the child stuttered before Bailey could address the issue. "I'm sure I can get Hayden to clean it up later. She is a witch, after all." She averted her gaze now, soon turning fully away from Bailey to pretend to fix the fluffy fuchsia pillows strewn about her bed.

"All right," Bailey said softly. She fell silent, watching the child for a few moments before finally leaving the room. She closed the door quietly behind herself, feeling ashamed. She hadn't meant to scare Madeleine, hadn't even noticed what she was doing in time to control it, but she still felt bad. It should never have happened to begin with. Her self-control was going to hell...

With a sigh, she started down the stairs. She could hear Dameon's voice below, hushed, followed by a soft murmur from Aven. Though she couldn't hear their words clearly, she knew that they were talking about her. Why else would they whisper, alone in the living room?

"I'll just ask Tawny what you said later," she told the pair once she'd reached the bottom landing of the stairway. Aven jumped, eyes automatically widening as though she expected to be punished, and Dameon turned quickly, startled, but not scared like the newcomer.

"You're looking...better," the werewolf remarked, looking Bailey over. She looked a little bit more healthy now, her long hair hanging dark and damp about her shoulders, all signs of dirt and gore gone from her skin. Her clothing, a dark red, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black sweatpants, still hung loosely about her bony frame, but they looked as if they were meant to be baggy, unlike many of her other, more revealing outfits.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I'm sure." She left the stairs and moved to stand before the two, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now, would you like to tell me what you were saying about me, or should I go get the summary from Tawny?" Aven and Dameon looked at each other. The male was the only one brave enough to look up at Bailey a moment later.

"She wants to go with you," the Were said simply, suddenly very serious. "Tonight."

Bailey's brow furrowed in an expression of puzzlement. "Tonight? Where?"

"I know of a place," the female said softly, finally raising her eyes to Bailey's face. "It caters to a human/Traitor clientele."

"Then how did you find out about it?" Bailey asked, suspicious. If she was just an elf, one of the many innocents being harmed in this war with the human race, how could she possibly have found such a place on her own, full of people who would gladly hurt her?