Notes. Beautiful notes. That's what Annebelle was able to coax out of the piano. Sweet music to her ears as her fingers wove in and out of cords, creating complex melodies that no piece of sheet music could ever hold. Her eyes remained fixed on the ivory keys, watching her spider-like hands stretch across them, swaying ever so slightly to her own beat.

She didn't stop when she heard the front door click shut behind her.

"How are you, Annebelle?" Nellim settled down on the stool next to the piano, looking over her shoulder to watch her play.

Annebelle didn't speak, knowing full well that he didn't need her to in order to know the answer. He sighed, the stool creaking as he leaned back. Likewise, she didn't need to check to know what expression he wore. Worried, with that funny way his brow creased and the flatness that would level his lavender eyes.

Carefully, he held a hand to her forehead. But she still played, this all having become routine to her. He took it away, "You're running a fever, Annebelle."

"I'm always running a fever." She breathed.

"Because you never rest."

"What do you call this then?"

He went quiet, the light brushing of high notes the only sound apart from their breathing.

Finally, he stood, stalking over to the windows that lined the outer wall of her apartment. She had always hated those windows. Made her feel like a fish in a bowl.

She dragged her gaze away from the keys, trusting that her hands would survive a few moments unsupervised. Nellim had forgotten to unbutton his coat, and now it shrugged awkwardly over his shoulders as he reached to the upper bank of windows, closing them. He snapped the first pane shut, "Maybe this is why you're always so sick. You never seem to want to close these things."

"I like fresh air." Now that she looked at him, she could almost see why most people assumed they were blood siblings rather than just a off beat shade with an ill halfling of an adopted sister. They shared the same ink black hair- he having inherited from his mother, she, her runaway father. He was pale as paper as well, with huge, milky blue eyes, making him look more like a glass doll than a living thing.

She could see his frown in the glass. Diving back into her music, she allowed her hands to distract her as he finished closing the windows. When he was done, he returned to the stool, letting himself become absorbed in the music.

"I still don't understand how you play like that." He muttered, "Delliquine has been trying for decades, and she can't get so much past chopsticks."

Annebelle suppressed a frown of her own at the mention of her brother's wife. She never really liked the royal pain all that much, and had trouble seeing why Nellim even bothered with her, "Perhaps she's looking at it the wrong way."

"Anne, not everyone is as past written music as you are."

She shook her head, "I'm not past it, Nellim. I can't even read that chicken scratch. Just a bunch of silly dots and lines. I prefer to see this piano as a lockbox, or better, a jigsaw puzzle. Except, there's more than one way to put it together. You just need to pull the wires right, criss-cross the lines. Stretch the strings until they-"

"Don't say that, Annebelle," Nellim hissed.

She forgot her previous effort against frowning, "Why not? It's how I see it. Nothing wrong with lockboxes and-"

"Anne, do you have any idea who you sound like right now?" She pulled her gaze away from her hands once again to see that he had grown paler, eyes harder.

"No, I don't." She muttered, "Is it Cheshire? Did you get in another fight with him? If you did, you should be taking it out on--"

"Queens sake, Annebelle! Haven't you been watching the news late- oh, no. Of course you haven't." He groaned and got up, disappearing into one of the closets tucked out of the way in the spacey apartment. She reduced the sound of the piano to a mere murmmer, listening as Nellim sifted through boxes and tubs. Finally, he came out, carrying the TV and attenna he a Delliquine had given her when she was first moved to New York.

He pulled the stool back a bit and placed the screen on top of it, unwinding the power cable and plugging it into the outlet. Annebelle raised an eyebrow as she watched him mess with the attenna, "Nellim, I'm sure whatever you're trying to show me isn't going to conveniently be aired right when you turn on that TV.

"It'll be on." Nellim whispered, "It's always on."

And sure enough, when he flipped the switch, a news story was in progress.

"So we still have no idea who this 'Twist' is, or what exactly it is that he's wanting, do we?"

They had an 'expert' on, and old, withered looking human with coke bottle glasses and a checkered suit that was big enough for two of him, "Well, that's the thing. From what we've been able to gather, there's no pattern... no apparent goal. It's completely random, like and animal attack. As if he's killing to... well, just that. To kill."

Annebelle glanced between Nellim and the news woman, "'He'? Didn't they just say they didn't know anything about this Twist? Wouldn't that include gender?"

Nellim sighed, "Annebelle, to be honest, it's just an assumption everyone makes. Even you have to admit it's hard to imagine a woman killing people off so brutally." He placed a hand on top of the TV. "But that's beside the point. This man is about and about New York, here, right on your doorstep. I... I think it's time to move you again."

Her brow furrowed when she turned back to the piano, "I don't want to move."

"But I thought you hated it here."

"I got used to it."

Anne, I don't want your name to be next on that list."

As if on cue, the news woman began to read off the names of the recently passed. It was a long list.

"I'm not going to Grimm." She huffed, "It's not natural. In fact, me going would be almost as bad as a pure blood stepping onto it's soil, it's-"

"-sacred land for the faeries, I know, I know. But I'd much rather you come alive than..." He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, Anne, but it's already been decided. You're moving in with me and Delliquine, Thrash and I will come to move you out in the morning."

Only the piano thrummed in the space left after he finished talking, only to be capped with a somber, "Of course it's been, or course." from Annebelle.

Nellim left then, closing the door with a light click behind him, leaving Annebelle as she was before he came.

She pondered his words, but she was far from troubled by them. Hardly something to worry about, seeing as she could probably work up a good coughing fit and guilt Nellim into letting her stay. The only problem was Thrash- he was somewhat hardened such tricks, having been on the receiving end of many of them in his time.

The TV was still on, and the list filled with victims of the terminal 6 airport slaughter droned on.

Wires, that's how Twist did it, like piano strings. Lots of wires, thin as fishing line and sharper than a butcher's knife. All the puzzle maker had to do was pull one little string to send the entire hanger into chaos.

"You just need to pull the wires right, criss-cross the lines. Stretch the strings until they..." She slammed her hands into the keys, a hard, bitter chord echoing across the lonely living room. "...bring the house down."

The list was nearing its end, she could tell. And with every name, her hand twitched, mis-hitting a note, souring the tone of her piece.

Jeremy Smith... F sharp.

Glinda Zachary... A natural.

Elliot, Dominique, and Andrew Harkness... G sharp, B flat, and C natural.

She continued on playing long after the list ended and the news gave way to something less sinister. And her music continued to get riddled through with odd notes that didn't belong.

"Madmen..." She trailed. Now, if Nellim would have cared to stay just a bit longer, he might have been able to catch a glimpse of a sneer so stretched, so cruel, it would have put Cheshire to shame. He would have been able to see those devil eyes, so unlike his, a serpentine green for the left and a snow ice blue for the right scanning up and down the ivory keys.

A charged chill bit the air as she struck the last chord, "Such a clever breed we are."

Author's diddly: Yes, this is from my larger work, Mad Alice. Yeah. Just one of my many antagonists in my mad series! ^^ I'd love to hear what you guys think! :D