Spirit was just starting up the hill on a dare. Why was she doing this? This was stupid. She stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, and think about what she was doing. The Mayor had warned everyone not to go up there, because of Maestro.

Maestro lived up there with an immense family of ghosts, or so was said. What he looked like was a mystery, and no one ever dared to find out. Someone with a family of ghosts had to be grotesque, monstrous, hideous, and appalling. Spirit felt herself stiffening at the thought.

"C'mon Spirit, don't tell me you're scared." Noah taunted from behind the iron gate.

"Shut your face Noah. I'm not scared; I just think this is stupid!" Spirit countered shooting her classmate a death glare. Spirit gathered up all her courage, and made a run for the top of the hill, and to the front porch of the old mansion. She forced her way through old vines, brush, and jagged rocks. She ignored the cuts, and bruises she had gained as she climbed up the steep hill.

"There, you happy?" Spirit shouted from the porch. No answer, but that was no surprise, seeing how high up she was. Then she heard Noah's voice. "Go in," Spirit looked behind her, and gazed at the huge door. "Fine!" She yelled back. Let's get this over with.

She opened the door slowly, and as quietly as possible, but stopped when she saw a young man crying, standing by the window with his face in his palms. She stepped forward, and the man froze. "Go away," he said in a broken voice. He shivered once he heard the pathetic tone in his voice.

"Why are you crying?" Spirit asked. The man swallowed the last of his weeps, and wiped the tears with his sleeve. "Why are you crying?"

He stiffened, and in a whisper said, "If you must know . . . I'm just." He hesitated. "I'm lonely, and cold, and I'm . . . scared."

Spirit stopped to take his voice in, basking in the delicate, natural, tenor, almost singsong tone. He sighed as he turned to face Spirit. She smiled as she watched Maestro twirl with such grace.

Maestro froze like ice.

Maestro walked through the ballroom, gingerly fingering each item he passed by. He swiped off cobwebs, and dust as he continued to the door. He looked past the cracked window, as he looked down the hill.

Was someone there? Maestro tensed his shoulders, and bit down on his lip. The thought of someone finally making it up here made him scared. He didn't want anyone hurt. Chills coursed through his body as he leaned closer to the window, praying someone was really was there.

Tears rolled down his cheek, from his coffee-brown eyes when he realized someone was there. He put his hand to the window, praying this was just a dream. The sobs shook his shoulders as he slowly began to pull his hand away. He drew in quick breaths in his despair. He put his hands to his face, and buried himself into his palms. He was tired of this: scaring people away.

At that Maestro felt his shoulders drop with shame. What was so scary about him? Maestro was always gentle, and soft, and warm. Especially his eyes. Those two beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes. He had long, ebony hair, that he kept in curls that reached past his shoulders. His hair framed his face ever so fairly, and perfectly. His face was one of soft features. A face of an angel. One that would light up an entire room whenever he smiled. If only he smiled more. He seldom smiled, but his lips were a fine, gentle, light, compassionate pair that told the opposite story. Such beautiful lips should smile more often. His skin was pale and smooth like porcelain, and seemed to radiate a seraphic aura. With a face like that, how on Earth could he be seen as a monster? What was so scary about him? But then again that wasn't his real face. Just a stupid porcelain mask, that he didn't even want to wear.

Maestro still didn't look up when he heard the light footsteps coming towards him. Probably just one of the spirits walking up on him. Maestro started straightening up. He tried not to show the fact that he was just crying, but he was still gulping down tears. "Go away," he said in a broken voice. He shivered once he heard the pathetic tone in his voice.

"Why are you crying?" the spirit asked. Maestro swallowed the last of his weeps, and wiped the tears with his sleeve. "Why are you crying?" Maestro stiffened, and in a whisper said, "If you must know . . . I'm just." He hesitated. "I'm lonely, and cold, and I'm . . . scared."

The spirit seemed to take his voice in, basking in the delicate, natural, tenor, almost singsong tone. Maestro sighed as he turned to face the spirit, but turned to see a young girl. She smiled as she watched Maestro twirl with such grace. Damn! Why didn't I stop her?

Maestro froze like ice. His eyes grew wide as he took in the girl's beauty. The girl laughed as Maestro looked her up and down. She had strait, dark brown hair down to her back. She had beautiful face that no painter, sculptor, or illustrator could depict. A face that no author, songwriter or poet could describe. I can't even describe it. Her eyes were like two perfect, gleaming brown orbs, that were shining brighter than the night stars. Her lips were a fine, gentle, light, compassionate pair, just like Maestro's. She was tall, tan, and slender. She stood confidently, but with elegance.

Maestro stared, and who could blame him? He had never seen anyone so pure, and alluring as this. He read about such beauty in books, and novels, but he never thought he'd come face to face with it.

He relaxed his shoulders and put his hand to his heart, which was starting to pound hard against his rib-cage. He felt his breathing quicken with anxiety. Sweat began to trickle down his hands. He felt his cheeks go pink as the burned, and his legs began to numb.

He felt himself trembling, and his knees gave out on him, and buckled together. Maestro leaned against the window frame, not knowing what to say, or what to do. It was awkward. Maestro hadn't talked to a living person in years. He felt his legs starting to give out again, and they did. Maestro fell on his tail-bone, and managed to knock over a vase. Why did he have to be a klutz now?

He couldn't bring himself to stand up, and his face was an embarrassed, bright scarlet. He was frozen, and he just sat there, staring at the person he'd been praying would come for years. He gulped hard, and began chewing on his lip uneasily.

"So, you're the terrifying Maestro I've been hearing so much about?" The girl asked with a smile. Maestro turned his head like a little puppy. Wasn't that obvious? And, wait a minute, Terrifying?

He glanced at the old full-length mirror beside him, and looked into the reflection. He cursed himself. He pursed his lips before smashing his elbow into the mirror. The mirror cracked, and only let of few shards go flying. One slashed Maestro's cheek, another scraped his forearm, tearing through the white poet-shirt he had on, and another cut his forehead. Crimson blood clashed with his porcelain skin, as he let the blood keep dripping out.

His warm coffee eyes, went a dead charcoal black with gloom. He brought his knees to his face, and hid himself. He started to cry again, not caring that someone from the outside saw him like that.

Maestro's expression turned to anger, but concern still shone in his eyes. "Get the hell out of here now!"

The girl saw the look on Maestro's face, and grew worried. She bent over, and pulled Maestro's head up, so that he was looking at her, his melted chocolate eyes, looking into her's.

"I see those stories aren't true." The girl said, swiping a few brown strands of hair from her face. She pulled a small rag from her pocket, and Maestro looked at her in a curious, childlike manner. "Let me see those cuts." The girl said putting a tender, petite hand on his forehead. Maestro eased himself against the wall.

"Okay," Maestro said simply. He was more than willing to cooperate, and let her patch up his cuts. She pulled some band-Aids from her bag, and was quick to stick them on. Maestro blushed, realizing how silly he must have looked with the band-Aids on his face.

"That better?" The girl asked with a smile. Maestro gave a shy nod, and smiled himself. He felt better, a lot better. He felt warm, and happy. He hadn't felt like that since before his family was killed.

Then it hit him again. He looked at the girl sternly. "You need to get out of here." Maestro said with hard eyes, just as she was going to place another band-Aid on his cheek. "He'll find you." More tears ran down Maestro's cheeks, stinging the uncovered slash on his face. His face darkened looking down from the girl. "I don't want anyone getting hurt."

The girl looked at him, and froze. "He'll eat your heart." Maestro warned, balling his fists tightly. Tears rolled down his face again, as he focused on changing his voice and his eyes, and even letting his incisors grow to fangs. The first person to show him any compassion in the longest time, had to be scared away for her own safety, but why did he have to be the one to do it?

He stood up, with clenched fists, and tears still pouring through. "Get out of here now! Get away!" He pleaded loudly, in a deep morphed voice. His eyes were now, slit, amber orbs glowing in fury. Maestro started up fierce wind, knocking the girl to the ground. The girl started screaming, and her eyes were filled with pure fear. He put a hand to his mouth, shocked at what he had just done; his own voice had scared him. As the amber faded to blue, and then brown, he cried.

He went down to his knees, and hid his face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Was all that come out of his lips. He didn't look up. "Just get out of here before he gets you. There are much scarier things than The Maestro here." He said weakly, as the girl got up.

He heard a small squeal come from the girl, and quickly he looked up. "Oh Maestro, you weren't going to turn this one loose without my approval first were you?" Maestro's eyes widened, seeing his master with his arms around the girl's waist, holding a knife to her throat. Daemon gave Maestro a wicked smile. The boy, to the eye only seventeen, looked harmless, but he was quite the opposite. The physical person in front of Maestro was just another poor victim, one who was unlucky enough to become possessed by him. Daemon was vicious, and he wouldn't hesitate to kill this girl.

The demon's charcoal black eyes flared crimson. "Answer me, Michael!" Daemon yelled pressing the knife closer to the girl's neck. His thick, waist-length, raven hair went up, as if being blown by a breeze as his anger increased, and a sadistic aura became visible as he glared at Maestro.

"No master, I would never let that happen." Maestro lied, looking down, trying to hide the crystalline tears forming in his eyes.

Daemon pressed the knife harder against the girl's neck once more, making her faint. He dropped her carelessly, and slid his knife into his boot. Daemon walked towards Maestro, and he didn't hesitate to push himself against the wall as his master approached.

Daemon grabbed Maestro by the hair, and threw him against the wall. He was still clutching his hair when he fell to the floor. Daemon jerked him up, and pinned him against the wall. "Help me, please, someone please help me." Maestro pleaded to the spirits, shifting into his true form. The skin darkened to a smooth brown, and he grew smaller, and his thin face filled slightly. The Maestro everybody feared so much, was nothing more than a helpless child.

"We can't. We can't." The words taunted the boy as he squirmed, trying to break Daemon's grasp. More tears filled the poor child's eyes, as Daemon raised him higher. "We're sorry. We're sorry." Burn in Hell where you belong, you psychopathic, diminished monster! Maestro screamed in his head, helplessly hoping that would make the demon disappear.

Daemon glared at Maestro. "Look at me when you answer me!" He yelled, slamming Maestro against the floor, almost knocking him out. Maestro cringed, and shook with fear, and pain. "You're pathetic! You and all your family! Do you understand you stupid, insolent, little worm?"

Using all his strength, Maestro sat up. Wiping blood from the side of his mouth, and shivering, he answered, "Y-yes m-ma-aster."

"I'll be taking her now-"

"Master, wait!" The demon stopped, and sent a bone-chilling glare Maestro's way.

"What!"

"Please spare her. Please let her go. I'll do anything for you, if you let her be." Maestro pleaded.

"A demon negotiating with a mere child? How humiliating. But . . . " Maestro paused, praying that Daemon would let this girl go. Daemon smirked. Chills went up Maestro's spine realizing that Daemon was planning a sick game. "Both you, and this girl have to find your family in the center of this mansion's labyrinth."

"My . . . family?" Maestro asked, puzzled. He thought right. He was devising on playing cat and mouse with him. That was just sick.

"Yes, your father, mother, and sister." Maestro bit his lip hearing that. "Think Michael. Not a single soul has left this mansion since I arrived, so what makes you think I let your family go?" That made sense, but now Maestro felt like an idiot. He was naïve enough to assume his family just got a free ticket out of this hell.

"Anyway, you and this stupid, little girl have to find them. The spirits will not help you, and I most certainly will not either. You may use your powers, but only for the first thirteen hours. You have twenty-six hours. If you slip up on my rules in the slightest way, I'll eat her heart, and you will be thrown in the dark, just like the last time you disobeyed. If you succeed, I will not only spare her, but I'll leave this place forever."

"I don't trust you." Maestro said, looking at the ground.

"But what other choice do you have Michael? If you don't play my little game, you know for sure that this girl will die. If you cooperate, there is a possibility that she, yourself, and your family may be saved. There are risks, but you never know if something will work unless you try." Daemon explained with a smug smirk on his face. "It's your call Michael. Not that you'll succeed." With that, Maestro's fists clenched. He glared at Daemon, something he had never, not once, dared to do before this challenge.

"I will succeed." The boy said bluntly.

"We'll see . . . " With that Daemon vanished into the dark. Maestro stood up on weak legs as he shifted back into the porcelain doll he despised so much. "You start the labyrinth as soon as this girl wakes up. Good luck, insolent child."