

Supernatural Six: Origins

Six series starters for the reading addict in you...

This is a work of fiction. All the characters or events portrayed in these stories are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

SUPERNATURAL SIX: ORIGINS

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 by Scott Prussing Publishing

All rights reserved.

This book is available in print at www.scottprussing.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any mechanical or electronic means without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. The scanning, uploading and distribution via the Internet or via any other means without the written permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law.

Breathless (The Blue Fire Saga #1)

By

Scott Prussing

BREATHLESS

Copyright © 2010 by Scott Prussing Publishing

2nd Edition

All rights reserved.

Scott Prussing Publishing

1027 Felspar St.

Suite 2

San Diego, CA 92109

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any mechanical or electronic means without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. The scanning, uploading and distribution via the Internet or via any other means without the written permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law.

"Breathless is a truly captivating read. The characters are impossible to forget." ~ VampireRomanceBooks.com

"Breathless is a book you will fall in love with and want to read over and over again." ~ Bite This! Vampire Book Blog

"Breathless takes you on a spellbinding adventure. The characters are amazing." ~ SassyBookLovers.blogspot.com

"A riveting tale of passion, danger and forbidden love. Breathless breathes new life into the vampire genre." ~ BookFetish.org

"I could hardly put it down. The chemistry between Leesa and Rave is wonderful—they play off each other brilliantly. I can't wait for the next book." ~ ReadersFavorite.com

"Breathless is for sure a page turner. When I finished, I wanted more. I can't wait for the sequel." ~ Paranormal Book Club

"Breathless was fantastic! A unique, creative, fresh approach to the vampire genre." ~ Literal Addiction Paranormal Book Club

PROLOGUE

Eighteen years ago

**T** wilight was gathering when Judy Nyland stumbled out of the trees onto the narrow hiking trail, her right hand clutching her neck. Thin ribbons of drying blood streaked the back of her hand like a badly done spider web tattoo. Her long blond hair was tangled, and her normally pretty face bore a dazed, confused look as she fought to maintain her balance. At the moment, she appeared much older than her twenty-five years.

Even in the shade, the air was still warm, but the woods seemed strangely silent. What was she doing out here? She winced when she turned her head to search the path—god, her neck hurt. Pulling her hand from her throat, she stared at her bloodstained palm. Was that really her hand, covered with blood? Gingerly, she touched her neck and felt a wet round hole slightly smaller than the tip of her finger. How the hell had that happened? She glanced down at her stomach, only recently beginning to swell with her second child. Thankfully, the front of her light blue T-shirt was unmarked.

"Judy!" her older sister Janet shouted, hurrying down the trail. "You had me so worried." Her eyes widened at the sight of Judy's bloody hand. "What happened?" Janet gently grabbed her sister's wrist and began examining her palm.

"It's not my hand." Judy tilted her head and pushed her hair aside. "It's this."

Janet examined the wound. "Doesn't look too bad," she comforted. "The bleeding's mostly stopped. We'd better get you to a doctor though, just in case. You might need a shot or something. What happened? Did you get poked by a branch?"

Judy frowned. "I don't think so... I don't remember."

A faint image began taking shape in her brain. She struggled to bring it into focus. It was a man. Very pale and very thin. His eyes bored into hers, mesmerizing her. She knew she should run, that he meant her ill, but she was frozen, rooted to the ground. As he moved closer, his lips peeled back, revealing a single yellow fang.

Judy grabbed her sister's arm with both hands. "Oh my god! I think I was bitten by a vampire. A one-fanged vampire."

"Uhhh...sure. A vampire," Janet said a bit more sarcastically than she meant to. "With only one fang. Makes perfect sense. And much more likely than being poked by a sharp branch, for sure."

Judy touched her neck again, confused. What the hell _had_ happened? Were her hormones running amok? Her husband had been teasing her about watching too many vampire shows. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember. It had been so clear just a moment ago....

1. UNHAPPY FAMILIES

**H** appy families are all alike, Leesa Nyland had read somewhere, but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. That statement certainly applied to her family, Leesa thought—it was hard to imagine another family anywhere that had been ruined by a mom who claimed she had been bitten by a one-fanged vampire.

As the memories came flooding back to her, Leesa's fingers began to twirl in her long blond hair the way they often did when she became anxious or upset.

She was three when she first realized her mom was different from other moms. Strangely, the first thing she remembered noticing was the tomato juice. Her mom drank nothing but the thick red juice, downing a big glass with every meal. Eventually, she even began putting it on her cereal instead of milk. Later, she began avoiding direct sunlight, claiming the sun hurt her skin. For a while, Leesa enjoyed the game they made of it, pretending they were furry little moles darting from shadow to shadow, but by the time Leesa was six her mom had stopped going outside except on the cloudiest days, doing what errands she could at night and leaving the rest to Leesa's dad.

The eccentric behavior was bad enough, but her mom's increasingly anxious and depressed ramblings eventually drove her dad away. "Why couldn't I have been bitten by a real vampire?" her mom would complain endlessly. She was convinced the one-fanged version was a crippled, sterile creature, unable to impart true vampire powers. One day, her dad simply did not come home from work, and Leesa had not seen him since. She wondered if she was part of the reason for his leaving. She had been born missing a small piece of bone in her lower right leg, making the limb an inch shorter than the other and causing her foot to twist slightly inward, resulting in a noticeable limp. Maybe her dad didn't want a gimpy daughter any more than he wanted a deranged wife. A year after her father left, her mom uprooted the family, moving them from New Jersey to San Diego. Thank God for her big brother Bradley, or her childhood would have been intolerable.

She forced the memories from her mind. She wasn't surprised they had returned now, while she sat on a hard black vinyl chair in the noisy baggage claim area of Connecticut's Bradley International Airport—how like Bradley to get an airport named after him, she thought laughingly—waiting for her Aunt Janet to pick her up. This was her first time in Connecticut, the place where her mom had supposedly been bitten by the one-fanged vampire. No wonder the story had come flooding back to her here, triggering the memories. Her light-hearted musing about Bradley and the airport quickly turned into a pang of loss, and her hand moved reflexively toward her purse and the carefully folded piece of white paper she carried with her everywhere. Catching herself, she stayed her hand—she didn't need to take the paper out to know every word printed on it.

Suddenly unable to sit still, she pushed herself to her feet and limped toward the exit. The glass doors slid open, and she stepped out onto the sidewalk, squinting in the bright sunlight. The air was hot and damp, and in just a few minutes her dark green cotton shirt began clinging to her skin.

So this is Connecticut, she thought. This was so not what she had been picturing. Where were the brooding gray New England skies she'd been imagining? There was nothing remotely mysterious, gloomy or dangerous here. No way could she picture this as a place where someone could be attacked by a vampire, one fang or not. Nor did it seem like the kind of place where a beloved older brother could suddenly disappear. But that was exactly what had happened.

Her eyes moistened as she thought of Bradley. Until he left for college, he had been her best friend. She knew how lucky she was. Plenty of her classmates had brothers who wanted nothing to do with their little sisters; or worse, who teased them incessantly. Not Bradley, though. When she was four, he began walking with her every day, until she was able to make it to a neighborhood park more than a mile away. At the park, Bradley would push her on the swings or spin her on the merry-go-round as a reward for her efforts. Walking with her brother and playing in the park were among her best childhood memories.

The heat was beginning to bother her, so she turned and limped back into the comfortable coolness inside, settling into the same seat she had vacated a few minutes before.

She remembered the day Bradley left for college like it was yesterday. She had hugged him on the sidewalk while the cab driver loaded his luggage into the trunk. Phone calls, texts and email would keep them in close touch, he promised. Leesa told him she understood, that above everything she wanted him to be happy, that it was time for him to make his own life, though she secretly wondered why he had chosen to go all the way to Weston College, in Connecticut of all places.

Bradley had been true to his word, calling or writing every day without fail. In the middle of his sophomore year he told her about a girl he had met, someone very special. Leesa was so happy for him, but not long after that things began to change. His calls and emails became shorter, and he began skipping a day now and then. She let it slide. She was fine with it—until the day she received that fateful email.

No longer able to stop herself, she reached into her purse and pulled out the printed copy of his final message, unfolding it with exquisite care and laying it open on her lap. As her eyes moved down the paper, she didn't know if she was reading or simply reciting the words from memory.

_Dear Sis, This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write. There's something I need to do. I have to go away, and I don't know if I'll ever be coming back._ Her eyes began to mist. Why couldn't he have been more specific? Why the secrecy? She could have handled his going away, if she thought he was going somewhere to make a new life with his girlfriend, far from the turmoil of his youth. The message hadn't ended there, though. Not by a long shot. _Please don't try to find me. Get on with your life in California. Forget about me._ As if! She still couldn't believe he had said that. Forget about him? No way. She had to find him. She just had to.

Sitting there alone in the airport, she read his final words. _Always remember, pumpkin, your big brother loves you._ A single tear wobbled down her cheek.

The sound of her name rescued her from the painful memory.

"Leesa, honey," her Aunt Janet called warmly, her heels clicking on the hard floor as she hurried toward her niece. "It's so good to see you."

Leesa carefully folded the paper and placed it back in her bag. She wiped the tear from her cheek and pasted a smile onto her face as she stood up to greet her aunt. "Hi, Aunt Janet," she said as she moved into her aunt's waiting arms.

For a moment, as Aunt Janet tightened the hug, Leesa felt three years old again, wrapped in the safety of her mother's embrace, before everything began to change. As she returned her aunt's hug and soaked up her loving warmth, Leesa's pasted-on smile slowly became real.

2. PLUMP AND LUMPY

**I** t was love at first sight—all right, technically second sight, Leesa admitted to herself, since she had met her aunt once when Aunt Janet and Uncle Roger spent a week in San Diego almost five years before. Not much time, especially in the life of a thirteen-year-old girl who had been a bit too busy—and a bit too frightened of forming any real attachments—to allow herself to bond with two virtual strangers. But ever since, after seeing how little Mom's disability check left after the basic necessities were taken care of, Aunt Janet had sent both Leesa and Bradley a hundred dollars every month "just between us, for those little things young people need now and then."

This was the woman her mother could have been, Leesa thought as she studied her aunt out of the corner of her eye while a skycap piled her four worn black suitcases onto his cart. The woman her mother could have been and should have been, if not for that crazy day in the woods so long ago. Aunt Janet looked like her mom should have looked, sounded like her mom should have sounded, and felt like her mom should have felt.

Aunt Janet was forty-eight, pretty in a plain kind of way, and slightly plump and lumpy like an aunt ought to be. Though four years older than Leesa's mom, Aunt Janet somehow looked younger, despite skin more weathered than the pale, almost flawless complexion of her sun-shunning younger sister. It was her sparkling eyes that did it, Leesa decided, and her warm smile, so different from her mom's anxious frown and glassy stare. Her dark blond hair was cut medium short, styled casually with loose curls framing a round face whose most striking feature was a pair of bright blue eyes almost identical to the ones Leesa saw reflected in her mirror every day.

It was not Aunt Janet's inviting appearance that drew Leesa so strongly, though. What pulled her in was her aunt's obvious care and concern, so different from the aloofness Leesa was accustomed to. "How was your flight?" "You must be tired." "Are you hungry? We can stop somewhere for a quick bite if you want." Leesa could tell Aunt Janet was not just making small talk, but that she genuinely cared. And better yet, she actually _listened_ to Leesa's replies.

After a forty-five minute drive south from the airport, Aunt Janet guided her blue Ford Taurus off the interstate.

"We're almost there," she said as she turned left at the top of the exit ramp and crossed back over the freeway. "Most of Meriden is behind us. Our house is this way, though, just up the road a bit."

The "road" turned out to be a rolling two-lane highway flanked by tall oak and ash trees with an occasional house or store tucked among them. Aunt Janet followed it for about a mile before turning onto a street marked Dursley Lane.

"If you keep going straight, it's less than ten miles to Weston," Aunt Janet explained. "We'll never be far away when you want to come by for a home-cooked meal."

The mention of food made Leesa's stomach rumble. "I'll be taking you up on that, Aunt Janet, for sure."

They turned into a long driveway in front of a pale yellow Colonial house set way back from the street. Four maples shaded the front lawn, and a row of pointy spruce trees lined the side of the house, looking almost like a row of giant dark green candles. Small gardens filled with bright red and white impatiens circled each of the maples, and an even more colorful garden fronted the house.

"Home, sweet home," Aunt Janet said.

"It's beautiful."

Leesa climbed out of the car and breathed deeply of the spruce-scented air. The smell reminded her of the pine freshener her mom used to spray in their house. This was way better, though.

"Your Uncle Roger should be home any time now," Aunt Janet said. "In the meantime, you can meet Max."

Leesa looked at her aunt. Who the heck was Max? She didn't have any cousins, as far as she knew. Why hadn't anyone told her that her aunt and uncle had a kid?

She followed her aunt up the brick steps to the front door. As soon as Aunt Janet pushed her key into the lock, Leesa heard a series of loud clicks clattering toward the door. Aunt Janet pushed the door open and was greeted by the joyful face of a panting golden retriever. She slipped in through the doorway and scratched the dog behind its ears while Leesa stepped inside behind her.

"Meet Max," Aunt Janet said, holding the dog's head toward Leesa.

Leesa petted the top of Max's head. His fur was soft and smooth.

"He really likes his chest scratched, like this." Aunt Janet bent over and demonstrated. Max's fluffy tail began wagging like crazy. "Go ahead. Give him a couple of minutes of this and he'll be your friend forever."

Leesa dropped to one knee on the hardwood floor and draped her right arm around the top of Max's thick neck. With her left hand, she began scratching his furry chest. Max arched his head up and his tail continued wagging furiously. Leesa rubbed his chest even more vigorously. She'd never had a dog growing up, but she had always wanted one. Or at least a cat. The only pet she'd ever had was a goldfish she won at a school fair when she was eight, and the poor fish had died in less than a week.

She continued rubbing Max's soft fur, thrilled with the way her trip was starting out. Aunt Janet was great, and now Max. Leesa just knew she was going to like her Uncle Roger as well.

3. POT ROAST AND PIE

**W** hen Uncle Roger smiled, the corners of his mouth spread till they were within an unimportant distance of his ears. Especially when he had such cause to smile as the delicious dinner he was currently devouring with unrestrained gusto. Except for his smile, Leesa thought Uncle Roger quite ordinary looking—square-jawed, nose a bit too broad, brown eyes and close-cropped black hair flecked with gray. He was a large man whose size would have been intimidating but for his smile. She had never seen a smile quite so wide, but guessed the smile stretching her own lips might be nearly as broad. Dinner was that good. And still to come was the fresh-baked apple pie from Uncle Roger's bakery. The cinnamon-laced aroma had been tantalizing her since her uncle had set it in the oven to stay warm.

Aided by a Crock-Pot that had been tenderizing a pot roast all day, Aunt Janet had whipped up the fabulous meal in less than thirty minutes. Buttery sweet potatoes and tender green beans sautéed with shallots and pine nuts accompanied the pot roast, which was quite simply the most tender piece of meat Leesa had ever tasted. The succulent beef seemed almost to melt in her mouth, and the gravy was to die for. It was the best dinner she had ever eaten, and she hadn't even tasted Uncle Roger's pie yet.

"Are you excited about college?" Uncle Roger asked.

"Yeah, I can't wait to get started. But I'm kinda nervous, too."

"What classes will you be taking?" Aunt Janet asked.

"Psychology, physics, English lit and math," Leesa replied, avoiding any mention of the controversial fifth class she had signed up for. She saw no point in roiling the waters by bringing that up. She also decided not to risk spoiling dinner by asking about Bradley, despite her impatience to start learning everything she could about her brother's time here in Connecticut. There would be time enough for that later.

She finished her pot roast in silence, enjoying every bite, then soaked up the last bit of gravy on her plate with a piece of homemade bread.

"Dinner was totally amazing, Aunt Janet. I may be dropping by for a home-cooked meal way more than you bargained for."

"Not a chance, dear. You're welcome to eat here every night if you want."

Leesa grinned. "That 'freshman fifteen' would turn into a 'terrible thirty' pretty quick if I ate like this every night." Her smile grew wider as she watched Uncle Roger drop a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream beside a slice of pie seemingly the size of a small shoebox. "But it might be worth it," she added when Uncle Roger set the pie in front of her.

The ice cream was already beginning to melt into the pie when she pushed her fork through the flaky crust, cutting off a healthy bite. The aroma alone was probably worth five pounds, she thought as she closed her mouth around the forkful. The buttery crust needed no chewing, and the tangy apple slices required little more. She closed her eyes in exquisite pleasure, savoring the delicious combination of flavors, textures and temperatures.

"Mmmmm... You must sell a million of these, Uncle Roger. It's amazing."

Uncle Roger's smile beamed again. "Not quite. But apple is our best seller, especially this time of year." He set a piece in front of his wife and began cutting a healthy slice for himself. "Enjoy. There's plenty more where that came from."

"Ha! Don't even think that. I'd probably explode." Leesa rubbed her stomach. "But I'd explode happy," she admitted with a smile.

Later, after the table had been cleared and the dishes crammed into the dishwasher, Leesa sat with her aunt and uncle in their cozy living room, rocking slowly on a surprisingly comfortable oak rocking chair. Max sat beside the chair, cleverly positioning himself so Leesa could pet the top of his head while she rocked. Uncle Roger reclined on a plump easy chair, a cup of steaming coffee on the small wooden table next to him, while Aunt Janet enjoyed a glass of red wine on the three-cushioned floral couch. "Peaceful, Easy Feeling" from the Eagles greatest hits CD played softly in the background, and a bright fire popped and crackled in the stone fireplace. With the heat from the fire radiating across her face and Max's soft fur under her fingertips, Leesa could not remember ever feeling quite so at home and relaxed. She didn't want to spoil the feeling, but she couldn't wait any longer to ask about Bradley.

"Did Bradley visit you guys much?"

"Every couple of weeks, I'd guess," Aunt Janet replied. "Usually for dinner."

"We saw a fair amount of him the first couple of months, less often as he settled in on campus and began making friends," Uncle Roger added. "Still pretty regularly after that, for his first year at least. Not so much the second."

Leesa stopped rocking, balancing instead on the front of the chair.

"Did he ever say why? Why he stopped coming so much, I mean?"

"Not to me," Aunt Janet said. She turned toward her husband. "Roger?"

"Nope. I had the feeling his girlfriend was keeping him pretty busy. Not so unusual for a college boy, you know."

Leesa remembered how Bradley's calls and messages began tapering off after the girlfriend appeared. She wished she had asked him more about her when she had the chance.

"Did you ever meet her?"

Aunt Janet shook her head. "No, never. I invited him to bring her for dinner several times, but they never made it. I don't know why."

"Did he tell you much about her, Leesa?" Uncle Roger asked. "I know how fond of you he was. He talked about you all the time."

Leesa felt warm and sad at the same time, thinking of Bradley sitting in this very room talking proudly about her. "No," she said after a moment. "Only that he'd met someone special, but never anything specific. I wish I'd asked. I don't even know her name."

"Edwina," Aunt Janet said. "He told us that much."

Leesa leaned back and began to rock. Edwina. At least she had a name now. She had no idea if Edwina had anything to do with Bradley's going away, but she had nothing else to go on, and the timing made it possible, if not likely. "Did he say anything else about her?"

Uncle Roger rubbed his chin. "She was a Weston student, I know that. I remember Bradley mentioning them being in a class together. And he called her a local, so I guess she grew up somewhere around here."

"I remember him saying she was exotic," Aunt Janet added. "I had asked him if she was pretty, and I distinctly remember him replying with that word. Exotic. I don't know what he meant by it, though."

"He was clearly quite taken with her," Uncle Roger said. "But the longer he was with her, the less he spoke of her, which seemed kind of odd."

"Have you heard anything at all from him, Leesa?" Aunt Janet asked.

"Nothing," Leesa said. "Not since an email saying he was going away." I don't know if I'll ever be coming back. She didn't see any use in sharing that part with her aunt and uncle. There was nothing they could do about it anyway.

She stood up and paced in front of the fire, frustrated by how little they all knew about what had been going on with Bradley, but it hadn't seemed that important at the time. Not until he suddenly vanished, and by then it was too late. Please don't try to find me... Forget about me. Why would he say that? What did it all mean? She stared into the fire, but there were no answers in the crackling flames.

4. A PILE OF ASHES

It was a pleasure to burn. Rave smiled as he watched the tiny blue flames dance from his fingertips—the outward manifestation of the magical inner fire coursing through his body. The heat shone dimly through the bronze skin of his face, making his long, dark copper-colored hair seem to shimmer in the shadows of the woods. The reason for the flames crouched behind a gnarled oak some fifty yards away—a vampire, stealthily watching humans at play in a grassy park below.

This vampire was apparently young and foolish, having chosen a spot that hid it from the humans but left its back exposed. The vampire should have known better. The humans posed no threat—any danger would come from elsewhere.

Chancing upon so careless a vampire was unusual. Still, Rave remained cautious, for even a foolish vampire was a foe to be reckoned with. Vampires were strong, impossibly strong, stronger even than volkaanes. Only a fool would underestimate a vampire, careless or not, and Rave was no fool.

As the heat within him grew, he tasted a sharpness in his fire he hadn't felt in many years. Magical energies in the air and in the earth were combining—if they grew strong enough, they would produce a phenomenon called Destiratu. And Destiratu meant trouble. Somehow, in a way he didn't fully understand and none of his elders could fully explain, Destiratu roused the killing ire in volkaane and vampire alike. Hunger and bloodlust raged, becoming uncontrollable for many.

Rave had lived through only one such period, more than a hundred years ago now, but he remembered it clearly. He had feasted on four vampires that year, but he had lost several friends to the creatures as well. Humans suffered the most from the increased vampire bloodlust, but they remained blessedly unaware. Few knew or believed in the existence of vampires. Almost none knew of volkaanes. Such blissful ignorance might not be possible in this modern age, and that could be a problem for all three races.

Now was not the time for such thoughts, though. A tall blond girl had entered the park and was heading across the field. Moving quickly despite a noticeable limp, she was already more than halfway to the woods. The determined pace of her stride and the direction of her path made him certain she planned to take the hiking trail in front of her—a trail that would lead her much too close to the lurking vampire.

Leesa was enjoying her walk. After spending most of yesterday cooped up in a plane, it felt good to stretch her muscles and exercise her leg. The large county park was relatively empty. Off to her left, a group of young men kicked a ball in front of a white soccer goal, and another small gathering of people sat at rustic picnic tables near the edge of the field. Thin white smoke wafted up from one of the grills, and the succulent smell of slow-roasting meat made Leesa's mouth begin to water.

Beyond the open field, she spotted several trails leading up into the woods, just as her aunt had promised. She angled across the grass toward one of the paths and headed into the trees. The trail was wide enough for three people to walk abreast, and the dirt surface was packed hard, making walking easy. It sloped upward, but not steeply enough to affect her pace.

The woods were beautiful—much more lush than what she was used to in San Diego. Young saplings and leafy underbrush flanked the path, while just a bit farther from the trail tall oak and ash trees spread a green canopy that blocked out all but the tiniest pieces of gray sky. The air felt at least five degrees cooler in the shade. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and unseen birds whistled busily from the higher branches. Leesa wished she knew what they were saying to one another.

She hadn't gone far when she was suddenly struck by the feeling she was not alone. Something briefly rustled the bushes off to her left, but she couldn't see anything through all the growth. Probably a squirrel or a rabbit, she thought. Whatever it was, it was likely more frightened of her than she was of it.

She had gone less than a dozen steps when the rustling sounded again. She whipped her head around and thought she saw a dark shadow flow swiftly through the trees, but it was gone before she could be sure. Her heartbeat quickened. Even the birds had fallen silent, as if they shared her fear. She tried to calm herself, but could not shake the feeling of being watched. Someone—or something—was out there.

Her mom's story came flooding back to her, making her heart race. She had to force herself to breathe. What was going on? This was so not like her, to be scared by a mere noise in the woods. It was broad daylight, for god sakes. She wondered if her fear came simply because she was in Connecticut, home to childhood tales of one-fanged vampires. Maybe New England was as spooky a place as she had imagined.

Rave crept from his hiding place, his gaze fixed upon the vampire. The creature flashed to a spot closer to the trail, making almost no sound. Rave followed, moving just as quickly, and even more silently. From his new vantage point, he could no longer see the girl, but his keen ears heard her footsteps drawing closer. There was little time left. He was going to have to act more quickly than he would have liked. Haste could be dangerous, but he had no choice. With luck, the vampire's attention would be totally focused on the girl.

The vampire darted through the trees once more, perhaps overeager, for it made a bit more noise than before. The sound of the girl's footsteps stopped. Had she heard the vampire's approach? Or had she simply sensed that something was amiss? The woods had grown silent. He needed to act now.

Drawing a deep breath, Rave launched himself forward. The vampire barely had time to turn before Rave was upon it, locking his muscular limbs around its chill body and pressing his open mouth over its nose and lips. The raging heat of his magical fire sucked the life force from the creature, funneling it into Rave's lungs. The vampire writhed in agony as the scorching heat burned to the core of its body, robbing the beast of its immense strength before it could twist free of Rave's grasp. In less than a minute, it was over. Rave let the vampire's limp corpse drop to the ground.

Rave remained crouched over the body, hidden in the lowest, thickest layer of underbrush. Enhanced by his vanquished foe's energy, the blue flames danced more brightly now, forming a flickering blue halo around his fingers. He closed his fists to hide the glow.

Except for a slightly unnatural twist to its torso, the vampire looked unharmed, almost as though sleeping. But even now, the heat from Rave's fire continued to consume the beast from the inside out. He watched the vampire's pallid face slowly grow lighter, becoming almost translucent, until with a sudden, barely audible crackling sound, the creature shimmered and crumpled to a pile of gray and white ash.

Leesa heard a soft thud, like two bodies crashing together, followed by a very brief thrashing in the undergrowth. She wondered if two animals were fighting. If so, why did neither make a sound? She had heard a coyote take a cat once back in San Diego, and the screeching had been horrific. Whatever this was, it had come from the same direction she'd last heard the rustling. She listened closely, ready to turn and run, but heard nothing else. Gradually, she felt her muscles relax and her breathing slow. The birds were singing again, and she chided herself for her fears. She was going to have to be a lot braver than this if she was going to find her brother.

Gathering her courage, she left the trail and moved warily into the bushes, gently pushing aside the leafy branches that grew more thick and tangled the farther she got from the path. Every few steps, she stopped to listen, but heard nothing amiss. Less than fifty feet from the trail, she found a place where the undergrowth was crushed and broken. An oblong pile of gray and white ash filled the center of the damaged area. Someone had sure picked a strange spot to build a fire. Were these ashes somehow linked to the sounds that had frightened her? Edging closer, she knelt beside the pile and carefully stretched her hand toward it. Her fingers were within inches of the ashes when she gasped and yanked her hand back—the ashes were still warm! Her heartbeat spiked again as she shot to her feet and looked quickly around, listening intently and straining to see through the underbrush. She detected no sign of danger, but could not shake her fear. Something was going on here she didn't understand. Being brave was one thing, but being foolish was quite another. She gave a final quick glance at the ashes, then scrambled out of the trees and hurried back down the path. All thoughts of completing her hike were gone. Right now, she wanted only to get out of these woods.

5. RAIN, RAIN DON'T GO AWAY

The day broke gray and dull. The sun was only a rumor, hidden behind a thick, glowering blanket of low clouds.

"The weather certainly has turned," Aunt Janet said, tugging her jacket closed as she and Leesa watched Uncle Roger load Leesa's luggage into the back of his white Ford Expedition.

Leesa gazed up at the leaden sky. "I love it."

The air even smelled different, she thought, sharper in some way, imbued with a faint chemical odor. "It's been nothing but sun the last six months back home. I've been looking forward to some real New England weather." She wondered if she was beginning to take after her mom, with this craving for clouds and foul weather. Maybe she had some of her mom's "vampire" blood in her after all.

"Let's see if you're still singing that same tune come January or February," Uncle Roger said with a laugh.

Leesa laughed with him. "You're right, I'll probably be begging for some sun by then."

They climbed into the car, Uncle Roger and Aunt Janet up front, Leesa in back. Max was already on the backseat, waiting. As soon as Leesa settled in, he rested his muzzle on her thigh. Smiling, Leesa stroked the top of his head. She hadn't mentioned yesterday's incident in the woods to her aunt and uncle, and now, sitting here in the car with the two of them and Max, the whole thing seemed a bit foolish. She was glad she hadn't said anything.

Her uncle backed out of the long driveway, and a moment later they were cruising east on Highway 66, toward Middletown and Weston College. A misty drizzle began to float down from the sodden sky, dotting the windows with tiny droplets. Nothing the locals would bother to call rain, she guessed, but she smiled nonetheless. It was still more rain than she had seen in months. With any luck, the sagging sky would send them even more.

Alas, the sky's promise proved false, and within a few minutes the drizzle ended. At least the clouds remained threatening. Leesa lowered her window half way to smell the damp air. Max seemed to think it was a fine idea, because he leaned across her lap and stuck his nose out the opening.

"How are you feeling?" Aunt Janet asked. "Excited? Nervous?"

"A little of both," Leesa admitted. "It feels like that yummy omelet you made for breakfast is doing flip-flops in my stomach."

"Should have had pie," Uncle Roger joked. "Pie is your friend, I always say."

"You may be right, Uncle Roger," Leesa said, thinking back to the scrumptious peach pie he had brought home last night.

"It's normal to be a bit nervous," Aunt Janet said. "But you're going to do great. I know it."

"I hope so, Aunt Janet."

"You will. Look how well you did in high school. College is just like high school, except the kids are older."

"Ugh! I hope it's not like high school. Some of my classes last year were sooo boring. I'm looking forward to something a little more interesting." Especially that one class, Leesa thought, but refrained from saying anything out loud.

As much as she enjoyed the atmosphere and scenery along Highway 66—called Washington Street here in Middletown—she was unprepared for her first sight of the Weston campus. She had seen plenty of pictures on the college's website, but none of them came anywhere close to the real thing. Beautiful, imposing, inspiring and intimidating were some of the words that popped into her mind.

Behind a long, black wrought iron fence, a perfectly manicured hillside dotted with stout maples stretched like a green lake up to a brick building a few hundred feet away. A row of fluted white columns gave the building a stately, monumental look. Off to the left, a row of beautiful old houses lined a narrow road flanking the hillside. In the distance, Leesa could see a tall white church spire, its needle-like point etched sharply against the dark sky.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Aunt Janet asked.

"It's amazing," Leesa managed to reply. "Just amazing."

"Wait until the leaves turn. It's breathtaking."

Leesa tried to imagine the trees ablaze in fiery colors. She was certain the real thing would far exceed the pictures she had seen.

"I can't wait."

Uncle Roger swung the Expedition through a wide stone gateway onto the campus. He drove slowly along the shady lanes, past impressive old brick and stone buildings, some fronted with white columns, others faced with arched, Gothic-style windows. A few sat close to the road; others were farther away, behind lush green lawns and thick hedges. And everywhere, there were trees. And more trees.

Finally, Uncle Roger eased to a stop in front of a rectangular four-story building. Twisting vines of dark green ivy covered the weathered brick to the top of the first-floor windows. The words Ohmsford Hall were etched into a white triangular frieze above the front entrance. Leesa felt a small lump in her throat. Her dormitory. Her new home.

Uncle Roger switched off the engine and they all got out of the car.

As if to celebrate Leesa's arrival, the gray sky squeezed out another round of drizzle, slightly heavier than before. Uncle Roger seemed to take no notice of the mild rain, unhurriedly lifting Leesa's suitcases from the back and setting them down on the sidewalk. Max didn't seem to mind the drizzle, either as he scampered up and down the narrow strip of grass between the street and sidewalk. Leesa smiled and raised her face to the sky, letting the tiny droplets dampen her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, she found her aunt and uncle watching her.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "You have no idea how good this feels."

"Don't worry, dear," Aunt Janet said. "Take all the time you want."

"You two don't need to get wet just because I want to feel the rain," Leesa said.

Uncle Roger grinned and held out one of his wide palms. "Wet? I'd hardly call this wet." He glanced up at the darkening sky. "Might be fixin' to be wet soon, though. We should probably get your stuff inside."

Aunt Janet opened the back door of the Expedition. "In you go, boy," she said to Max. "I doubt you're allowed inside the dorm."

Max jumped up onto the seat. Leesa limped over to the open door and leaned inside. She rubbed her hand along Max's soft back and kissed the top of his head. "Bye, Max. I'll see you soon, I promise."

Uncle Roger grabbed the two biggest suitcases, lifting them easily in his thick hands and heading up the wide cement walkway. Aunt Janet took the medium-sized bag and followed her husband. Leesa limped along behind them, pulling her wheeled carry-on bag.

They stopped in front of one of the dorm's two elevators. Leesa pushed the up button, which glowed yellow.

"We didn't have an elevator in my dorm back in college," Uncle Roger said. "Fourth floor, I was. Three years trudging up and down those stairs a dozen times a day. Finally got smart my senior year and moved down to the second floor." He patted his rotund midsection. "Kept me trim, though."

"I'm on the fourth floor, too," Leesa said. "Room 402."

A loud ding heralded the elevator's arrival. Uncle Roger went in first, dropping the two big suitcases to the floor with a thud. Leesa and Aunt Janet followed him in. Leesa pressed the "4" button and the doors slid shut.

Room 402 was across the hallway and a few steps down from the elevator. Convenient, Leesa thought as she retrieved her key from her pocket. Fingers trembling with excitement, she fumbled awkwardly for a few seconds before getting it into the lock. She grinned sheepishly at her aunt and uncle before twisting the key and pushing the door open.

The room was pretty much what she had expected. A bit on the smallish side—though no smaller than her bedroom back home—and furnished in a simple, practical way. Cut into the far wall, a very cool Gothic-style, arched window with square lead frames let the meager gray daylight filter into the room. Leesa flipped the light switch beside the door and a square glass fixture in the middle of the ceiling came on, brightening the room. Her nose detected the faint scent of bleach from a recent cleaning.

To her right, a twin bed rested against the pale brown wall—Band-Aid brown, she would hear it disparagingly called by another girl a few days later. Beyond the bed were two mirrored sliding closet doors. The opposite side of the room contained a four-drawer oak dresser and a pair of blue vinyl chairs flanking a small round table. Mounted in the center of the wall above the table was a flat screen television.

Leesa limped across the tan industrial carpet and deposited her bag and purse on the bed. Aunt Janet and Uncle Roger followed her inside and set Leesa's suitcases down in the center of the floor.

"Small, yet somehow not cozy," Uncle Roger said, smiling.

"Oh, shush," Aunt Janet said. "It just needs a few personal touches, that's all."

"I know it's kinda small," Leesa said, "but I wanted my own room." She didn't tell them she had spent a fair amount of time debating whether to choose a single room or one of the more elaborately furnished suites. She didn't make friends very easily and a suite would have allowed her to get to know another girl or two quickly, which would have been nice. She hoped the dining room and the communal bathroom down the hall would provide enough opportunity to meet the other girls, even for someone as shy as she was. In the end, she decided her plans might benefit from the privacy of a single room.

"Do you want any help unpacking?" Aunt Janet asked.

"No, thanks, Aunt Janet, I'll be fine. There's no orientation stuff until later this afternoon, so I've got plenty of time to get settled."

"Okay," Aunt Janet said. "Give us a call if you need anything."

Uncle Roger pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to Leesa. "For any incidentals you might need."

Leesa hugged her aunt and uncle and walked them to the elevator, where she hugged Aunt Janet one more time. Once the doors closed, she headed back into her room. She pulled the door shut behind her and let out a big sigh. She couldn't believe she was finally here.

6. RULE SEVENTEEN

"Once when I was six years old, I saw a magnificent picture in a book about the jungle," the Dean of Students told his audience, "and that started a life-long love of books and learning for me. I hope all of you will find the same joy in learning during your stay here at Weston College."

As Dean Halloway droned on, Leesa wriggled uncomfortably on her folding metal chair, trying to find a position that didn't hurt her butt. The dean was a short, white-haired man she guessed to be around sixty. He had been speaking to the more than six hundred students in this year's freshman class for twenty minutes now, and Leesa could detect no sign he was anywhere near finished. She wouldn't have minded if any of what he was saying would be useful, but it was all clichés and platitudes about learning, college life, independence and other such rot. She hoped some of the following speakers would have more practical information to share.

She stole a quick glance at the dorky guy with wild red hair sitting next to her. His eyes were riveted on Dean Halloway, as if he expected the old guy at any moment would share the secrets of the universe, or everlasting life, or at least how a geeky guy like him could manage to get laid. Not that she should talk, being a virgin herself, but she was pretty sure she could find someone to do her if she wanted. Her "condition" would have surprised many of the kids back in high school, since she had dated Will from the basketball team for the better part of senior year, but he'd never gotten past second base with her—or should it be half court in his case? And he had only gotten that far once. She had often wondered why Will had hung in there so long with so little to show for it.

A smattering of applause drew her attention back to the stage. Dean Halloway had finished his speech and was stepping away from the podium. Leesa joined in some polite applause as a pretty Asian girl a few years older than Leesa replaced the dean behind the podium. She was dressed in jeans and a white Weston sweatshirt, which Leesa took to be a good sign after the stuffy dean. The girl flipped her long black hair behind her shoulder and bent the microphone down closer to her mouth.

"Hi, everyone," she began in a cheerful voice, "I'm Jing-Mei, a senior here at Weston. I hope you all enjoyed Dean Halloway's motivating words. I'm here to give you some tips you may find a bit more useful."

For the next fifteen minutes, Leesa scribbled several pages of notes as Jing-Mei provided tips on how to make the best use of the library, the dining halls and the Student Center. She told them about the cultural and athletic resources available on campus and in Middletown, and how to stay safe in both places. Her lively sense of humor kept it all interesting.

"And finally, probably the most important advice I can give you is this," Jing-Mei said, her voice serious now. "Most of you don't know anyone on campus yet, or at best have a high school acquaintance or two here. So make friends as quickly as you can. Don't be shy. Approach people in your dorm and in your classes. Try to make a best friend. Someone you can do things with, laugh with, even cry to if needed, whether it's about a class you're struggling with or about a boyfriend." She paused for a moment, smiling again. "I guess that last one goes mostly to my fellow coeds. But guys, maybe you'll need a buddy to brag to about the latest chick you scored, or whatever it is you guys talk about when we girls aren't around."

The room erupted in laughter. Leesa found herself laughing as well, but with a touch of sadness inside her. She'd never had a best friend—how could she, with a mom like hers at home? But Mom was three thousand miles away now, so maybe things could be different here—there was no reason she couldn't bring a friend back to her room. She smiled. Now if she could just figure out how to go about making a best friend. "Don't be shy" was easier said than done.

There was one more speaker, a guy this time, the senior class president. Though not as entertaining as Jing-Mei, Leesa found a few of his tips useful, so she jotted them down. He finished by inviting them all to an informal reception in the adjacent room.

Leesa stood near the edge of the huge meeting room, the fingers of her right hand twirling in her hair, hoping she didn't look as uncomfortable as she felt. Throngs of students milled about, chattering and laughing as they got to know one another. Jing-Mei's voice echoed in Leesa's head—Don't be shy, make friends. She knew she should join one of the groups, but she had no idea how to insinuate herself into an already formed cluster.

"Wow, you're really cute," a female voice beside her said.

Leesa turned to see a short, slender girl smiling up at her. "Huh?" was all she could manage in reply.

"I said you're really cute."

Leesa forced her fingers from her hair as she studied the girl. Her straight black hair, highlighted with burgundy streaks, was clipped an inch or two above her shoulders. Dark red lipstick accentuated her bright smile, and her left cheek was pierced above her upper lip with a tiny ruby-colored jewel stud. A small port-wine stain shaped eerily like California marred the otherwise smooth skin of her right cheek. The color of the strange birthmark almost exactly matched the streaks in her hair.

Stop staring, Leesa admonished herself, pulling her eyes from the blemish and taking in the girl's outfit instead. It was quite an outfit, for sure—a light brown short jacket worn over black cotton shorts, with tight white leggings cut off a few inches below her knees protruding from beneath the shorts. A pair of black leather boots almost reached the bottom of the leggings. It was an outfit Leesa knew she could never even begin to piece together—it was too out there for her taste, anyway—but it worked for this girl.

"Thanks," Leesa said, unsure how to react. "So are you," she added after a few seconds, her discomfort obvious.

"Don't worry, I'm not into girls, if that's what you're thinking," the girl said, laughing. "I like guys way too much."

"No, I wasn't thinking that, really."

"Rule seventeen: always make friends with a really cute girl. There's bound to be more guys around than she can handle, so maybe I can scoop up some of the leftovers."

"Oh, I see," Leesa said, though she was unsure exactly what "rule seventeen" meant. Maybe it was just another one of those things most girls knew that she was clueless about. "I'm probably not a very good choice for that."

The girl cocked a dark eyebrow. "Cute and unassuming. Perfect." She held out her hand. "I'm Kelly, but everyone calls me Cali, cuz of the birthmark. Don't worry, I'm not self-conscious about it. I figure it makes me stand out." She grinned and made a quick pirouette, displaying her outfit. "You can probably tell I don't mind standing out."

Make friends, Leesa heard again in her head. Cali certainly seemed cool enough and was definitely outgoing—maybe some of it would rub off on her. God knows she could use some of both. She shook Cali's hand. "I'm Leesa. Nice to meet you."

Cali took in Leesa's gray zippered hoodie with San Diego written in blue cursive letters across the front. "You from San Diego?"

"Yeah, I am. Since I was seven, anyhow."

"Why the hell'd you leave San Diego for this place?"

Leesa wasn't ready to talk about Bradley yet, and definitely not about one-fanged vampires. She shrugged. "Just wanted a change, I guess."

"If I lived in California, I'd never leave." Cali tapped her birthmark with her fingertip. "Bet I'd fit in great with this thing."

"Where're you from?" Leesa asked.

"East Hampton. Right across the river."

"There must be other kids from your school here, then."

"A few, yeah."

Avril Lavigne's powerful voice suddenly erupted from Cali's small purple and brown embroidered handbag, singing about a skater boy. Leesa thought of the boring default ringtone on her cell. Personalizing ringtones was something she had never gotten around to doing.

"My high school boyfriend," Cali said, leaving the phone in her bag. "I'll talk to him later. He hasn't gotten it into his head yet that I'm a college girl now."

Leesa wasn't surprised Cali's old boyfriend was probably a skater guy. "How come you're not hanging with the kids from your school?"

Cali grinned. "Pul-eeze! They are so not cool enough."

Leesa's heart sank. If Cali was looking for cool, she was talking to the wrong girl.

"They're not cute enough, either," Cali added. She studied Leesa's face for a moment. "You're not even wearing makeup, are you?"

Leesa's hand moved reflexively to her cheek. Makeup was another of the many things her mom never taught her, so she seldom used it. "No, I'm not."

"Wow," Cali said, shaking her head but keeping whatever other thoughts she had about the matter to herself. "I'm thirsty. Wanna grab a soda?"

"Sure," Leesa said, relieved to change the subject. She limped a few steps alongside Cali, who stopped when she noticed Leesa's limp.

"What's wrong with your leg?"

Leesa looked down at her foot. "I'm missing a small piece of bone," she explained. "It's no big deal. I was born like that."

Cali looked at Leesa's leg more closely. "Does it hurt?"

"Nope, not at all. And I can walk as fast as the next person," Leesa added defensively. "I do a couple of miles almost every day."

"Cool." Cali tapped her port-wine stain again. "Makes us a good pair. We each got our own little thing. Besides, nothing draws guys faster than a pretty girl who looks like she needs help."

"Ha! Sorry to disappoint you, Cali, but it sure didn't seem like that in high school."

"Bah, I bet you just didn't notice." Cali took in Leesa's sweatshirt, black T-shirt and plain jeans. "We sex up your outfits a bit, you'll see. The guys'll be flocking around you."

"I'm not really looking for all that much attention."

"Maybe not," Cali said with a grin, "but I am." She grabbed Leesa by the arm. "C'mon, I'm still thirsty."

They each got a diet soda, then spent the next hour chatting. By the time the reception ended, Leesa felt like she had known Cali forever. Even better, Cali also lived in Ohmsford, on the third floor, so they walked home together and spent another hour talking in Cali's room until Leesa decided to call it a night. She headed up to her room, very pleased to have already made a new friend.

7. VAMPIRE

A screaming comes across the sky, and Stefan de Kula tasted it with every inch of his slender body. Destiratu! he thought, throwing his head back and spreading his arms to fully drink in the magical energies. Only the merest hint so far—faint ripples on his skin, a tiny burning in his blood—yet a delicious hunger nonetheless, one that would grow stronger and more delicious should the Destiratu continue to form. No vampire could resist it, not even those who had lost their desire to hunt for human blood. Too many of his fellows were content to remain in the shadows, unwilling to draw attention by taking humans, subsisting instead on the blood of deer and lesser animals. But Stefan was young, less than four centuries from the glorious day Lord Ricard had ushered him into the ranks of the undead, and he had never lost his thirst for human blood. Only the commands of his elders held him in check, allowing him to take just enough human prey to barely satisfy his lust.

Destiratu would be felt by others, he knew. By the hated volkaanes, who would be roused and dangerous as at no other time. He had lost more than a few comrades to the vampire hunters. Yes, it would be a time for lust, but also a time for caution. And perhaps a time of pleasures scarcely imagined. His pointed fangs extruded from his upper jaw in anticipation. He had bested volkaanes before, and their burning blood was like nothing else he had ever tasted.

Shoving the memories aside, he returned to his hunt, weaving silently through the trees until he reached a thick stand of mountain laurel a short distance above a popular hiking trail. Nearly invisible in the dark shadows of the bushes, he crouched and waited, listening carefully and sniffing the air for the scent of prey.

The afternoon wore on, but he was in no hurry. What did hours matter to one who counted his existence in centuries? Despite his hunger, he let several groups of hikers pass unmolested, confident the day would eventually bring him what he needed. Finally, his keen ears heard the sound he had been waiting for—a single set of footsteps approaching up the trail. By the weight of the tread, he knew it was a woman.

Moving with vampire quickness, he flashed down onto the path before she came into view. The woman did a mild double take when she spotted him. His black shirt, black jeans and black boots were hardly typical hiking apparel—and his pale complexion was definitely not the outdoor type—but his appearance was not so unusual to cause any real alarm, especially in a world where so few believed in vampires.

The human was tall and healthy looking, almost certainly a student at the nearby college. She might have made a fine vampire, but the coven had been full for many years, so turning her was not an option. As he came abreast of her, he pretended to stumble. She responded as he guessed she would, reflexively grabbing his arm. Straightening up, he smiled gratefully and locked his eyes onto hers. Her eyes widened at the depth of his gaze. Her eyelids began to twitch, as if she were struggling to pull her eyes away from his piercing stare. But she could not, and a glazed, unfocused look slowly spread across her countenance. A vacant smile formed upon her lips, and she offered no resistance as he took her by the arm and led her into the trees.

8. VAMPIRE CLASS

"'I see,' said the vampire thoughtfully, and slowly he walked across the room towards the window." The old professor scanned the crowded lecture hall from behind a dark brown wooden lectern. "How many of you can tell me what book starts like that? Raise your hands."

Perched on a comfortable cushioned seat in the top row of the amphitheater-style classroom, Leesa recognized the quote. She looked down on a sea of raised hands, amazed at how many seats were filled. Close to a hundred kids, she guessed, twice as many as in her other classes. Except for her row, which was only about half full, there were few empty seats. To her left, a group of seven or eight guys and girls clad in black were clumped together in the back two rows. Two wore white makeup on their faces, and the rest were exceedingly pale. You didn't see many full-fledged goths nowadays, but she wasn't surprised they were drawn to this class.

This was the class she had so looked forward to, the one she dared not mention to her mom and chose to keep quiet about with her aunt and uncle as well. Vampire Science. The name seemed an oxymoron, and Weston was one of only two colleges in the country offering such a course. With the amazing popularity of vampire books, television shows and movies, a growing number of schools were catering to the demand by offering classes on vampire lit, but vampire science was something else indeed. Leesa found the books and shows to be filled with contradictions and inconsistencies. If vampires truly existed—and while she tried to keep an open mind on the subject, she was not ready to believe they did—she wanted to learn what might be true and what wasn't. And Bradley had told her how much he enjoyed this class, before he disappeared. She wondered if something he'd learned here had anything to do with his departure.

"Take notice of all the hands," the professor continued. His deep voice carried easily through the hall. "More than half of you. Ten years ago, the number would have been much smaller, even though Interview with the Vampire has been around for almost thirty years now. And I bet some of you with your hands down have read the book, but didn't recall the opening line."

He stepped out from behind the lectern. His thin frame was slightly stooped with age, but he moved with surprising ease, given his frail appearance. Long white hair hung limply from his head onto his shoulders, the color a sharp contrast to his rumpled black suit. His black Converse sneakers did not go with the suit, but Leesa could tell he was the kind of man who didn't care.

"As I'm sure you've all guessed by now, I'm Dr. Clerval," the professor said. "And this handsome young fellow"—he indicated a young man in his mid-twenties wearing a brown sweater and dark tie sitting on a folding chair near the corner of the stage—"is Mr. Randolph, my teaching assistant. I prefer to call him Renfield."

The remark brought a smattering of laughter from the class.

Dr. Clerval smiled. "A poor joke, I know, but one that amuses me." He shuffled forward to the front of the dais. "Let's have some fun before we get more serious. Another show of hands. How many of you fine young students have read the original Dracula, by Bram Stoker?"

Leesa looked down on perhaps half as many hands this time.

"Fewer hands, that's obvious," the professor said. "What else do you notice?"

He waited while the students glanced about the room, trying to decipher what he was looking for. Leesa noticed hers was one of the few female hands raised, even though the class was more than half girls. But she remained quiet.

"No one?" prodded the professor. "Okay, hands down. Let's try this. How many of you have read Twilight?"

Many more hands shot up this time. Chuckles began to break out around the lecture hall, spreading quickly into louder laughter. Leesa laughed quietly to herself. Most of the hands were female.

Professor Clerval waited for the laughter to subside. "I see you got it that time," he said. "Mostly women. For those who didn't notice, with Dracula it was almost all men. What does this tell us?"

"Guys dig blood and guts," a male voice answered. "Chicks go for the sappy romance." The room erupted with more laughter.

"I may not have phrased it quite that way," Professor Clerval said when the room quieted, "what with the PC police lurking like vampires behind seemingly every corner."

Leesa joined in yet another round of laughter. Professor Clerval was wonderful. She was going to like this class even more than she thought. Way more than physics and math, which, judging from the first classes, promised to be deadly dull. The jury was still out on English lit, but psychology seemed like it might be pretty cool.

"Political correctness aside," the professor continued, "our young man has a point. Vampires have something for everyone. Renfield, if you please."

Randolph tapped his fingers on a gray keyboard resting on his lap. The lights began to dim and a large white screen descended with a low whirr behind the professor.

"Something for everyone, I was saying," Professor Clerval said. "From Count Dracula"—he waved his hand toward the screen and the gruesome visage of the black-caped Bela Lugosi appeared—"to Lestat." Tom Cruise's aristocratically handsome face replaced Lugosi's. "To Edward." The young teen heartthrob Robert Pattinson now smiled out at them.

"We have blood and guts, as our young man so nicely phrased it." A series of pictures flashed by—a man's neck being torn by vampire fangs, a wooden stake thrust into the heart of a vampire, another reduced to ashes by sunlight streaming in through a window. At least ten violent images, some quite graphic in their depictions of blood and death, glowed hauntingly from the screen. Leesa cringed a little in her seat, but was mesmerized nonetheless by the parade of images. She recognized about half of them.

The screen went dark for a few seconds.

"And we have romance," the professor continued, his voice softer now, almost feminine in tone. Brad Pitt and Kirsten Dunst as Louis and Claudia appeared, their loving faces in total contrast to the previous images of violence. Next came Bella and Edward, locked together in a passionate embrace. "And yes, we have sex, too." The face of a woman Leesa didn't recognize replaced Bella and Edward, her expression one of utter rapture as a vampire bit her pale throat. Her image was followed by a picture of the three nearly naked Brides of Dracula hovering in diaphanous gowns above a sleeping Keanu Reeves.

"We have heroes"—Louis, then Edward appeared again, in different shots than before—"and even lovely heroines." Several pictures of Kate Beckinsale as the beautiful Selene from the Underworld movies filled the screen, followed by the sexy red-haired image of the video game character Rayne.

Finally, the screen went blank and the lights brightened. Professor Clerval moved back behind his lectern. "Dozens of books and movies, a couple of television series, even video games," he said. "So many choices. Something for everyone. Far too many choices, I fear. With every author and director taking the parts they like, dropping what they don't, and adding what they need, how are we to know what is true?" He leaned forward, his hands gripping the sides of the lectern. "Do vampires burst into flames when touched by daylight, or do they merely glitter under the sun? Do they sleep in coffins, or in beds like you and me? Do they fear crosses, cringe at garlic, and burn at the touch of holy water? Do we slay them with a wooden stake, by beheading, or by burning?"

A low murmur of quick, whispered conversations rumbled through the room.

"You sound like you believe vampires actually exist," a guy in the second row said skeptically.

Professor Clerval smiled. "I would never say that," he said, his tone implying he would like to do just that. "The administration would have me out of here so fast my head would spin. Only the exploding popularity of vampires in the last couple of years has convinced them to let me offer a class in vampire science—and you should have seen what I had to go through to get that name accepted. Before this class, only the vampire lit course was offered."

He walked to the edge of the stage. When he continued, his voice was lower, conspiratorial. "Just for the sake of this class, let's assume vampires really do exist." He winked. "It will make things so much more fun, don't you think?"

Leesa was enthralled. The professor made her feel that maybe vampires were real. And she could tell she wasn't the only one in the class to feel that way. She remembered a few times when her mom had been so convincing Leesa almost believed her story. She wanted to ask Professor Clerval about one-fanged vampires, but she was nowhere near ready for that yet.

"Dr. Clerval," a male voice called out, "I have a question."

Leesa was surprised to see the questioner was the red-haired geek from orientation. She hadn't expected to find him in a class like this, but wasn't surprised he had planted himself in the front row, near the teacher. She bet he sat in the front of all his classes. And he was either wearing the same outfit as at orientation, or all his clothes looked alike. Probably both, she thought, grinning.

"Certainly, young man," the professor replied. "Your name, and then your question."

Leesa admired the kid's guts. She could never in a million years see herself asking a question in a group this big. She was too afraid she would sound stupid or something, but she guessed the guy was some kind of brainiac and harbored no such fears. Class would be his element, like Cali at a party. Leesa wondered what her own element was.

"My name is Stanley," he said, with no hint of anxiety in his voice. "Let's assume vampires are real, like you said. They're supposed to be immortal, right?"

"Yes," Professor Clerval replied. "All accounts seem to agree on that. Stoker used the term 'undead.' Basically, vampires are already dead, so they cannot die. Technically, that means they can't be killed—they must be destroyed."

"So, if they live forever, and every time they bite someone that person becomes a vampire, shouldn't there be an awful lot of vampires running around by now?"

"You make a good point, young man. Mathematically, you'd be correct—though not all victims bitten by a vampire actually become a vampire. It turns out that's not the case, though, which is something we'll discuss in a future class." Dr. Clerval moved toward the side of the stage. "We're about out of time this evening, but I think we laid a good foundation today for further discussion. Renfield, would you pass out the reading lists, please."

Randolph began trudging up the steps, handing a sheaf of reading lists to the person at the end of each row. As Leesa watched him climb nearer, her eyes were drawn to a guy sitting at the end of her row. Trying not to be too obvious, she leaned forward to get a clearer look past a couple of guys sitting between them.

She sucked in a sharp breath—the guy was absolutely gorgeous! He definitely was not there at the beginning of class, or she would have noticed him for sure. His thick, wavy hair had a copper hue to it—sort of like an old penny, she thought—and his smooth skin seemed to have a similar, though lighter, tint. He had impossibly high cheekbones, a strong straight nose and a firm chin. His profile reminded her of pictures of classic sculptures she had seen in art history books in high school. It may have been a trick of the lighting, but his face seemed almost to glow, as if some inner light were trying to shine through. It was a face to make any girl drool, for sure, and Leesa almost rubbed her lower lip to make certain she wasn't doing just that.

As if sensing her eyes on him, the guy turned to look at her. She thought she saw the barest flicker of surprise crease his handsome features, but it was gone before she could be sure. He smiled, his eyes holding hers for the briefest of moments, then turned his head and rose from his seat. Moving with an athlete's grace and without seeming to hurry, he disappeared swiftly out the back of the room.

Leesa sat paralyzed, her heart hammering. A strange warmth radiated through her body. She had never felt anything like this and had no idea what to make of it. Guys just did not make her feel this way. She only knew she wanted to see more of him, if only to assure herself he wasn't some vision conjured up by her imagination and the talk of vampires. But why had he left so abruptly?

She limped hurriedly out to the aisle, excusing herself as she squeezed past the two guys, and rushed to the door for one last look at him. Outside, she swung her head from side to side, but saw no sign of him on the broad grass courtyard. It had only been moments—how had he managed to vanish so quickly? He had to be out here somewhere, but he wasn't. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, but the courtyard was still empty. Shaking her head, she wondered if he had ever really been there at all.

She hated that this class met only once a week. She had already been looking forward to the next one, but now she could hardly wait.

9. GIRL COUNCIL

Serene was a word you could use to describe the Weston campus that warm evening, but definitely not to describe Leesa. Confused, curious, excited, perplexed, agitated, aroused—any of those would have done nicely. But not serene. "Serene" would have strolled through the lobby and waited for the elevator. Instead, Leesa swept across the lobby straight to the stairwell, yanking the door open and racing up the stairs as quickly as her leg allowed. She needed to talk to somebody, right now. She sure hoped Cali was home.

She burst through the second-floor doorway and hurried down the hallway to Cali's room. The door was open, and she heard Kesha belting out the bawdy lyrics to "Tik Tok" from inside. Thank god Cali was here. Leesa swung into the room.

"Cali, you won't believe..." she stopped in mid-sentence, seeing two other girls she didn't know in the room with Cali. "Oh, sorry," she said, her fingers darting toward her hair.

Cali was sitting on her bed, legs stretched out in front of her, her back against the wall, an open can of Red Bull in her hand. She wore a pink hoodie unzipped over a black T-shirt and teal leggings. Small black and white squares ran diagonally down one sleeve of her sweatshirt, and something gold sparkled across her breasts. Her nails were painted to match her leggings. She smiled brightly at Leesa's hurried arrival.

"Hey, Leesa, pull up a seat." Cali patted the mattress beside her. "And get your hand out of your hair—you're with friends."

Leesa dropped her hand self-consciously to her side, then limped across the room and plopped down on the edge of Cali's bed. She smelled pizza. The spicy aroma reminded her she hadn't eaten dinner.

"This is Caitlin and Stacie," Cali said. "From down the hall. We were just hangin' out. Ate some pizza. Sorry, but there's none left."

Leesa masked her disappointment as she exchanged hellos with the two new girls. Stacie was a pretty, petite, half-Japanese girl with long silky black hair almost to her waist. A royal blue cami paired with white capri pants showed off her olive-toned skin. She sat in the lotus position on the rug in the center of the floor, looking completely comfortable. Leesa wished her legs would bend like that.

Caitlin was a tall, thick girl with shoulder-length hair, blond on top and dark brown underneath. Dressed in jeans and a tight black T-shirt stretched across her full breasts, she sat sprawled on one of Cali's chairs, a contented smile on her face. Big pink letters on the shirt proclaimed I've been naughty. Definitely not the shy type, Leesa decided.

"What's wrong with your foot?" Caitlin asked.

Cali jumped in before Leesa could answer. "She got stepped on by an elephant when she lived with the circus," she said straight-faced. "Not that it's any of your business."

Leesa shoved Cali playfully on the shoulder. Her friend seemed to have forgotten she had asked the same question the first day they met. "I'm missing a piece of bone in my leg," she explained. "It's no big deal."

"You gotta excuse Caitlin," Cali said. "She's from Jersey. She doesn't know any better."

"I was born in New Jersey," Leesa said.

"Really? Where?" Caitlin asked.

"Springfield."

"Holy crap!" Caitlin exclaimed. "I'm from Maplewood. We're practically neighbors."

"We moved when I was seven," Leesa said. "I don't remember much about it."

"Lucky you," Cali said, grinning. "Leesa lives in San Diego now," she told Caitlin and Stacie.

"Wow, what brought you all the way back here?" Stacie asked.

Leesa shrugged. "I wanted to get away from home. Try something different."

"You came rushing in here like you'd just won backstage passes to a Coldplay concert or something," Cali said. "What gives?"

Leesa glanced toward Caitlin and Stacie. This was so not the way to make a first impression. "Oh, nothing really. It can wait."

"C'mon, Leesa," Cali prodded. "Caitlin and Stacie are cool. Give it up."

Still, Leesa hesitated. Her mouth began to feel very dry. She was so not good at this social stuff. And even worse when it came to talking about guys. But she was in college now, she reminded herself, and finally on her own. Having made a friend like Cali was a great start. She decided to go for it.

"It's about this guy," she began.

"Sweet!" Cali said. She grinned and pulled her legs up under her on the bed. "Now you're talkin'. Time for Girl Council."

"Yeah, let's hear it," Caitlin said.

Leesa took a deep breath and plunged on, hoping she wasn't going to sound foolish. "He was in my class today. I didn't even notice him till right near the end. He was sooo good-looking. Different from any guy I've ever seen." Her cheeks began to grow warm, but she forced herself to continue. "When he looked at me, I felt...I don't know...I can't even describe it." She could feel her heart beginning to pound again. What was going on? How could merely talking about this guy make her feel like this?

"You're turning red as a lobster," Caitlin laughed. "You got it bad, girl."

"Got the hots all right, big-time," Cali agreed.

Leesa wanted to crawl under the blankets and hide. She felt her hand moving toward her hair, but forced it down. Instead, she pulled her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around her shins. She had never felt so embarrassed. Or so confused. Guys just didn't do this to her. She'd seen cute guys before—San Diego was loaded with 'em. But no one like this guy, not even close. He was different in a way she couldn't even begin to explain. Or even understand. She hoped some of the way she was feeling right now was from talking about it in front of two girls she barely knew, instead of from just thinking about the guy. Yeah, that would be better.

"Earth to Leesa," Cali said, waving her hand in front of Leesa's face. "Come back to us, girl."

"I'm sorry," Leesa said, shaking her head. "It's just... I've never felt like this."

"Rule twenty-three..." Cali began with exaggerated seriousness.

Uh-oh, here we go again, Leesa thought. Cali had confided to her that she made up most of her rules on the spot, and that even the genuine ones—like making friends with a really cute girl—didn't have actual numbers. Leesa wondered what Cali was going to come up with now.

"When you start feeling all funny inside," Cali continued, "it's time to get laid."

Caitlin burst out laughing. "I like that rule!"

Stacie giggled. Leesa felt herself blushing again.

Cali looked at her. "How long's it been, Lees?"

Now Leesa really wanted somewhere to hide. She was sooo not comfortable talking about this. If her face had been red before, she dreaded how it must look now. All three girls were staring at her expectantly. She had to say something. They were going to find out sooner or later, and knowing Cali, sooner was way more likely.

"Ummmm," she said finally, her eyes fixed on her feet. "About eighteen years?"

For an instant, her words were met with silence, as the girls deciphered her reply.

"Wow," Caitlin said. "A virgin."

"For real?" Cali asked.

Leesa nodded. Cali put her hand on Leesa's shoulder. "That's cool. Means even more leftovers for me. Rule twenty-five: guys don't stay with girls who don't put out." She laughed. "I guess rule twenty-three's no use, though."

"I'm one, too," Stacie said.

Everyone turned toward Stacie. Leesa was so happy to have the spotlight off her, and even happier not to be the only one. Thank you, Stacie!

"I came close on prom night," Stacie admitted. "But my boyfriend was drunk and clueless. I'm glad we didn't do it."

"I've never even been close," Leesa said. "Guess I'm pretty clueless myself."

"Well, if you don't know what you're missing, how can you miss it?" Caitlin joked. They all laughed.

"So, back to this guy who's got you so hot and bothered," Cali said. "What's he like?"

"He's hard to describe," Leesa said, though she could see his face in her mind as clearly as if he were sitting right there with them. "He's dark. Really tan, I guess, but not like any tan I ever saw in California. Almost bronze."

She thought she saw Cali stiffen, but kept on. "Dark copper hair, almost to his shoulders. Really cute."

"Uh-oh," Cali said, her face serious now.

Leesa looked at her friend in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Do you know him, Cali?" Caitlin asked.

"Not specifically," Cali replied, "but I think I know a bit about him."

A puzzled expression replaced the alarm on Leesa's face. "What do you mean?"

"He sounds like he could be part of this strange clan that live near my town," Cali said. "The Mastons. They have their own settlement, keep to themselves, mostly. Sort of old-fashioned, like the Amish. They don't drive or use electricity or phones. Can you imagine? Not having a cell? Yikes!" She grinned. "A few of the kids show up at school now and then, but they never stay around long. They all have that strange coloring you described. Nobody knows much about 'em, but there's all kinds of crazy stories. Some people say they're Indian, but there's no official tribe anyone's ever heard of."

"You called them Mastons," Caitlin said. "What's that mean?"

Cali shook her head. "Dunno. It's like the name of the tribe, or everyone's last name or something. Like a clan or a cult, maybe."

An uncomfortable feeling began to gnaw at Leesa's stomach. "What kind of stories?"

"Oh, some are totally ridiculous, like human sacrifices and stuff. I remember one time after school, this jerk loser dropout, Nick Nedland, decided it would be fun to bust a water balloon on one of the Mastons. The guy looked so angry, I thought he was going to deck Nick on the spot. I swear you could see steam comin' off him, he was so hot. A few days later, Nick disappeared. The story started going around that the Maston kid had killed him, but I think Nick probably just ran away somewhere. He was such a loser—tried to kiss me once and got all pissed off when I wouldn't let him." Cali scrunched her face at the memory. "Speaking of kissing...all the parentals say if you kiss a Maston, you'll die some horrible death. Said they'd gotten the story from their parentals, who got it from theirs. I was tempted to try that one out," she added mischievously, "but I never could get close enough to one. Not cute enough, I guess." She looked Leesa up and down and winked. "I bet you could get close enough."

"Well, I couldn't today," Leesa replied, shaking her head. "And believe me, I tried. To get close I mean, not to kiss him," she added hastily.

The girls all laughed.

Stacie had a look on her face like a light bulb had just turned on in her head.

"Wait a minute," she said. "Are these the people connected with the Moodus Noises? We learned about the Noises in school."

"Moodus?" Caitlin said, making a face. "Is that even a word?"

"If you'd grown up in Connecticut, you'd have heard about them in history class," Cali said. "They're not far from East Hampton, so we got all kinds of stuff about 'em."

"What are the noises?" Leesa asked.

"Rumblings and tremors underground," Cali explained. "Stories about the noises go all the way back to Indian times. They're called the Moodus Noises cuz they occur by the Moodus River...right near where the Mastons live," she added in a low, spooky tone. "They've studied the crap out of the place, but no good explanation has ever been found why there're so many tremors there. The Indians thought it was a god expressing his anger. We more enlightened folk blame it on those Maston people. The Noises are real, though. All the other stuff—strange blue fires that flare up and vanish, horrible screams in the night—those are just stories. Google it. There's all kinds of stuff on the Noises."

Oh great, Leesa thought. The one guy she's drawn to doesn't drive a car or have a phone and comes complete with earth tremors, blue flames and a deadly kiss. Oh, well, what should the daughter of a mom bitten by a one-fanged vampire have expected, anyway? Some guy off The Hills? She still hoped she'd see him in class next week. Might have to hold off on that first kiss though....

10. FRAT PARTY

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Leesa couldn't believe how fast the first month of school flew by. She was thrilled to finally have a best friend, and she and Cali hung out as often as they could. They did lots of stuff with Stacie and Caitlin as well. Caitlin had a Wii in her room, and quiet Stacie had turned out to be quite the star at Guitar Hero. Leesa didn't play the game much, but she enjoyed listening to the music and watching her friends pound their toy guitars like amped-up rock stars. She was doing well in all of her classes, even enjoying a couple of them, especially Professor Clerval's. The leaves around campus were beginning to turn, and she knew it wouldn't be long until they began to explode with color.

She was getting to know the surrounding area, usually with Cali, who knew lots of fun places to go. Leesa, Cali and Stacie had gone hiking at nearby Sleeping Giant State Park—Jersey girl Caitlin had remained behind because she "didn't do woods." Sleeping Giant was the place Leesa's mom had suffered her "incident" so many years before, but Leesa hadn't shared that story with the other girls. She thought the mountain park was quite beautiful, with miles of wooded trails and numerous rock outcroppings providing scenic vistas of the Quinnipiac College campus below. She found nothing foreboding or sinister about the place—maybe the one-fanged vampires hung out on different trails than the ones she and her friends had hiked.

The downside to her first month was two-fold. So far, she had been unable to learn anything about Bradley's disappearance. She had visited his freshman dorm, but three years had produced a complete turnover in the residents. Bradley had lived off campus the next year, but the few people in the old apartment building who remembered him had no idea where he'd gone. She had painstakingly searched through four years of Weston yearbooks for information about his girlfriend, but not knowing her last name, she'd been forced to wade through thousands of names looking for any Edwinas. It wasn't a very common name, and she found only four. None of the pictures looked at all "exotic." Still, she visited or talked to all of them, without any luck. It seemed Uncle Roger was wrong; Edwina had not been a student at Weston. Maybe she'd only been sitting in on a class with Bradley, or perhaps Edwina wasn't her real first name. Maybe Uncle Roger had simply misremembered what Bradley said.

The second negative concerned the Maston guy. He hadn't shown up in vampire class since that first night, but Leesa couldn't get him out of her mind. Twice, she thought she had sensed his presence, once back in the stacks of the library and once walking home to her dorm in the evening, but when she looked around, there was no sign of him. Perhaps she was just imagining it—or desperately hoping for it—but the feeling had been awfully strong. An Internet search for information about the Mastons and the Moodus Noises produced lots of tales and rumors, but precious little fact. She had found a few pictures of the Mastons and had little doubt the guy from class belonged to that strange group. Her friends advised her to forget about him—indeed, to stay away from him even if he did show up—but after almost a month he remained in her thoughts as powerfully as ever. She had even dreamed about him a couple of times, dreams that made her blush whenever she thought about them. Maybe it would be best if he never showed up again. She couldn't make herself believe that, though.

She wondered whether the frat party Cali was taking her to tonight—dragging her to, more precisely—would end up in the best of times or worst of times category. This would be her first frat party, and she suspected it was going be the latter. The Beta Psi Delta fraternity was hosting the party, and BPD was notorious enough that when Caitlin heard about it, she reacted with an exuberant, "Cool, you're gonna party with the Borderlines!" When Leesa asked what she meant, Caitlin explained BPD also stood for Borderline Personality Disorder and that BPD parties were famous for living up to their wild nickname. Leesa tried to talk Cali out of going—she didn't even drink, for god's sake—but Cali was having none of it, saying it was great Leesa didn't drink, that Leesa could keep her out of trouble.

So here she was, trying without much success to put together an outfit for a party she didn't really want to go to. She felt confident her loose red and gray diamond-patterned skirt, chosen by Cali on a shopping trip to Middletown a few weeks ago, would be suitably hip. She knew Cali would want her to wear the red leather shoes she had picked to go with it, but they were walking to the party, and there was no way Leesa was doing that on three-inch stilettos.

She looked up as Cali flounced into the room.

"Hey, party girl, you almost ready?" Cali asked in a tone that matched her "I'm here to party" outfit.

She was wearing what looked almost like a private school uniform top, plaid with a Peter Pan collar, or what would have looked private schoolish if it wasn't unbuttoned farther down than Leesa would ever dare and didn't have skulls and hearts leading diagonally down the front to a frayed edge. She had paired it with a short black skirt that sat low on her hips and red fishnets ripped in several places. Black platform shoes made her nearly as tall as Leesa. Leesa wasn't sure she would have been able to stand in the shoes, much less walk in them.

"Not even close," Leesa replied. She indicated her new skirt. "I don't know what to wear with this thing."

Cali crossed to Leesa's closet. "Let's see what you got." She began sorting through the hanging clothes. "We don't want you lookin' too sexy now—gotta save that for me." She pulled out a gray tie-neck top with a scalloped bottom edge. "Try this."

Leesa pulled the top on and studied herself in the wall mirror. The cutely attired, modestly sexy girl staring back at her was unfamiliar, but she liked the way she looked. The shadow and liner Cali had shown her how to apply really made her blue eyes pop. She hoped she'd be able to do all this by herself before too long.

"Are you sure it's cool to bring me along?" Leesa asked. Cali had been invited to the "Thirsty Thursday" party by a guy in her history class.

"Yeah, no problem. Sean said the only qualification to get in is a pair of tits." She winked. "And you got that covered, for sure."

Leesa blushed and reached for her hair.

Cali grabbed Leesa's wrist and pulled her hand down. "Rule thirty-nine. No twirling your hair at the party. Guys think it means you're horny. It's gonna be hard enough to keep those frat boys off you."

"Ha! Doubtful." Looking at Cali's provocative outfit, Leesa guessed her friend would be the one drawing the lion's share of the attention, and that was just fine with her.

"I think we're ready to rock," Cali said. "Let's go."

"Should we take sweaters?"

"Nah. It's not that far. It's gonna be hot inside. They'd just be a hassle once we're there. It's not too cold—except maybe for wimps from San Diego," she teased.

As Cali promised, the early October evening was crisp but not uncomfortable. Streetlights fashioned to look like hundred-year-old gas lamps poured golden light onto the sidewalk, and a three-quarter moon added to the brightness. Leesa smelled freshly cut grass and guessed one of the nearby lawns had been mown late in the day. They walked quickly, Leesa limping and Cali tromping in her platforms. Leesa thought she and Cali must look like quite the pair—more like a couple of drunk kids stumbling home from a party than two stone-sober girls on their way to one.

She heard the festivities before they even turned the corner onto Fraternity Row. Thumping dance music seemed almost to vibrate the sidewalk, and the tumult of voices and laughter was nearly as loud. Anyone heading for the Borderline's party wouldn't need exact directions, that was for sure.

The BPD house was white with green trim, located near the center of the string of huge wooden houses that made up Fraternity Row. Three big green Greek letters—beta, psi and delta—were attached above the raised front entrance. Light spilled from all but one of the dozen or so front windows. A bed sheet painted with giant green letters proclaiming "Thirsty Thursday" flapped beneath one of the upper windows. Outside, a small crowd of kids milled about on the front lawn and sidewalk, but the bulk of the noise emanated from inside the old house.

Cali grabbed Leesa's arm and led her toward the front steps. A short line of kids filled the stairs, waiting to show ID to receive the precious hand stamp marking them as old enough to drink. Leesa was willing to bet that once inside, it probably didn't matter whether you were stamped or not. Not at a party like this one. She began to regret letting Cali talk her into coming, but she pushed the feeling aside. She had to grow up sometime—why not start now?

"Rule forty-six," Cali said as they took their place in line. "Don't drink anything unless you pour it yourself, even soda or juice, or if someone gives you an unopened can. Some of these frat boys will do anything to get you naked, including drugging your drink."

"Don't worry," Leesa said. "It's Diet Pepsi or Coke for me."

"Unopened," Cali repeated. "They can drug a can of soda as easy as a glass."

The two guys flanking the doorway at the top of the stairs were clearly upperclassmen, good-looking in a preppie sort of way, confident in their manner, enjoying their position of authority. Both wore casual tan sport coats open over black T-shirts. One guy's shirt bore a picture of President Obama; the other's was decorated with a screaming gray skull. They gave Leesa and Cali practiced once-overs when the two girls reached the top of the stairs.

Skull guy flashed a wide grin. "Hello, ladies. Welcome to BPD."

"Let me stamp your hand," Obama shirt said, grabbing Leesa's wrist without even waiting to see if she had ID.

Leesa gently disengaged her arm from his grip. "I don't drink." She thought she saw a flicker of disappointment cross his face.

"But I do," Cali said, smiling and extending her hand flirtatiously.

The guy laughed and took Cali's wrist, quickly stamping the back of her hand. He held his grip even after he was done, letting his eyes move up and down Cali's trim body. "I bet you do," he said, smiling. He gave her wrist a light squeeze before letting go. "Have a great time, girls."

Leesa and Cali squeezed past the two guys into the house.

"I told you hanging with you would pay off," Cali laughed, holding out her arm and admiring the dark skull stamp on the back of her hand.

Inside the confines of the crowded house, the noise seemed to have doubled. The bouncy beat of one of Beyonce's latest dance hits echoed through the place. Loud chatter competed with the music, and frequent shrieks of laughter or shock—Leesa couldn't tell which—rose above the din. The room was filled with dancers gyrating wildly to the song's punchy drumbeat, and there seemed to be at least four women here for every guy. These frat guys sure had a good thing going, Leesa thought as she and Cali threaded their way to the far side of the room, where the crush of people was a bit less thick.

Despite the open door and windows, the air was hot from so many bodies, and Leesa was glad she hadn't worn a sweater. She watched Cali begin to sway to the music, looking enviously at Cali's mostly unbuttoned top. Heck, even the rips in her fishnets looked like they would help keep her cool. Leesa was glad her own legs were bare.

A guy in what seemed to be the standard BPD uniform of sport coat and T-shirt edged his way close to Leesa and Cali. His T-shirt was brown, adorned with a classic peace symbol. The guy was cute in a not cute sort of way, with thick black hair and big brown eyes. Leesa noticed a band of sweat glinting on his forehead. She wondered how hot the place would have to get before the BPD jackets came off.

"Can I get you girls a drink?" he asked.

"We'll get our own, thanks," Cali replied. She smiled and put her arm through his. "You can take us to the bar, though."

The guy grinned back, then led them through the crowd into what seemed to be a dining room near the rear of the house. Three BPDs were busily mixing drinks behind a row of portable tables. A large plastic cooler contained cans of soda and bottles of water, while a second cooler held cans of Red Bull and Monster. It was quieter back here, but not much, with a steady stream of kids coming and going from the makeshift bar. A bit of cool air filtered in from an open doorway in the back of the room, but it was still plenty warm. Leesa decided cold water would be just the thing and grabbed a bottle.

Cali pulled a Red Bull from the cooler and handed it to their escort. "I'll have a Jagar Bomb."

The guy grinned, clearly pleased by her choice. "You got it."

He took a plastic cup from a stack atop the table and grabbed a dark green bottle of Jagermeister. He said something to one of his frat brothers behind the table, who handed him a shot glass. Leesa watched as he poured a full shot of the dark brown liquor, then filled the plastic cup half full with Red Bull. He held the cup in his left hand and the shot in his right. With a dramatic flourish, he dropped the shot glass directly into the Red Bull, and then gave the cup to Cali. Leesa grimaced as Cali swallowed the mixture in one long series of gulps.

"Want another?" the guy asked, his face a picture of friendly innocence.

"You wish," Cali said, grinning. She held out her hand. "I'm Cali."

"Nice to meet you, Cali." He shook her hand. "I'm Andy."

"And this is Leesa," Cali said.

Leesa and Andy shook hands, then he led them into another room, still crowded, but less busy with people coming and going. What started as a three-way conversation quickly morphed into an animated chat between Cali and Andy, leaving Leesa feeling a bit like a third wheel. Baby steps, she told herself. At least she was here.

She spent a few minutes gazing out at the crowd, watching how the other kids interacted and studying what the girls were wearing. She noticed how many seemed drunk already—maybe that was the secret to their social ease. She hoped she wasn't going to have to resort to drinking to feel comfortable in these kinds of situations. With that happy thought, she nudged Cali on the shoulder.

"I'm hot. I'm going out back for some air."

Cali twisted her head around. "Want me to go with you?"

Leesa shook her head. "No, stay here." She winked. "You look like you're having fun."

Cali grinned. "You sure?"

Leesa nodded.

"Okay. Be careful, though." Cali ruffled Andy's thick hair. "You gotta watch out for these frat boys."

Leesa laughed as she began edging her way through the crowd to the door and out into the night. Please, someone come talk to me, she thought as she stood looking out into the clumps of kids gathered in the backyard. And not some drunk jerk on the make, either. Someone cool. And interesting. And as long as she was wishing, cute certainly wouldn't hurt.

Never in a million years could she have guessed what her wish would bring.

11. STRANGE MEETINGS

It was an odd-looking vine. Large, striated leaves clung to the corner of the building, inches from Stefan's face, their shadows hiding his dark, motionless form from the noisy students milling about in the nearby yard. He watched them idly, not hunting now, for he had been given no permission to do so. It would be awhile before he was allowed to take a human again, but there was nothing to stop him from observing or even mingling with them if he chose. So far, no one in the yard was of much interest to him—until a new arrival caught his eye. Tall and blond, she stood by herself a few feet from the back steps. Not beautiful, but near enough. Something about her tugged at him, made him want to get closer. A lust and a hunger, yes, but different in some way. The pull was thrilling, but disconcerting. Different was intriguing. But different could also be dangerous.

Backing farther into the shadows, he let his eyes sweep the yard and surrounding grounds, alert to anything amiss, anything out of place. Sensing nothing, he circled the yard slowly, keeping to the shadows and pausing every few steps to peer into the darkness, listening intently and sniffing the air for danger. All seemed as it should be. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the girl and studied her more closely.

She was still alone, standing with one arm held against her waist, sipping a bottle of water with the other. Her face was tan, her skin smooth, her eyes startlingly blue. She rotated her head from side to side, taking in the other kids, but not looking all that interested in joining any of them. She looked uncomfortable, like she knew she didn't quite fit in here. She was right, he thought. She didn't fit in. He wanted to find out why.

He eased out of the shadows and headed casually in her direction, avoiding any move or look that might attract her notice or be regarded as threatening—just another partier wandering outside, someone who would notice her only when he got closer. She would think it was chance that brought him to her, not a purposeful act.

He had approached within a few paces when she sensed his presence and turned toward him, her face tightening into a guarded, but inquisitive look. He flashed a friendly smile. At a party like this, she would be expecting guys to hit on her, but his easy manner, practiced over the centuries, was natural, unthreatening.

"Hi," he said. "You having any fun?"

Leesa studied him for a moment before replying. This guy was different from the other guys here, she sensed immediately. He spoke with a hint of an accent—exotic, perhaps European. He wore his long-sleeve black button-down shirt untucked over black jeans, but the loose shirt couldn't hide the slender, athletic form of his body. His hair was even blacker than his clothes, if that were possible, pulled back into a tight ponytail. His clothes and hair made his unusually pale face seem almost to float in the moonlight, and a bristly soul patch appeared so dark against his pallid skin it looked like a tunnel into his chin. Handsome, she thought, and sexy, too—in a more raw, sensual way than the Maston guy.

"Not really," she said guardedly.

"Me neither." He grinned. "I'm Stefan. How about you and me not have fun together for a couple of minutes?"

Leesa laughed, her unease diminishing. "Sure, why not? I'm Leesa." Stefan made no move to shake hands, so she kept hers at her side.

"So, Leesa, what brings you to this not-so-fun party? This doesn't really look like your kind of thing."

"It's not," she admitted. "My friend brought me. I'm trying to learn how to fit in. She's inside, chatting up some guy."

Stefan pursed his thick lips. Sensual lips, she thought.

"Why do you care about fitting in? Fitting in is overrated, if you ask me."

Leesa swept her eyes up and down his black-clad form. "I can see that," she teased. "Tell me, do you have something against color?"

He smiled. "Not at all. I'm especially fond of red. But black helps me disappear into the night, if necessary," he added in a low, flirtatious tone.

"Why would you need to disappear?" Leesa made a show of looking about the yard. "Got a girlfriend around somewhere?"

He laughed. "No, no girlfriend. Not for a very long time, I promise."

There was something strange about the way he said it, some seriousness in his tone despite the laugh. She believed him, but felt like he had told her something far deeper than she'd asked. Maybe she just wasn't used to talking to sexy guys. God knows she'd had little enough practice at it.

"You from around here?" he asked.

"No. San Diego."

"You're a long way from home. You miss it?"

"Nope. I'm happy to get away, actually."

He stared at her, his gaze strangely penetrating. His dark eyes took on the look of bottomless pools—pools she suddenly found herself wanting to sink into. Dangerous, yet inviting. Flustered, she took a drink from her bottle, breaking eye contact.

He seemed to realize he was looking too hard. His gaze softened and he rubbed his hand on his pale cheek. "I bet I'd burn to a crisp in California, with skin like this."

"Ha! Probably. You from Connecticut?"

"For the most part, yeah."

There it was again—the sense that he was telling her more than he was saying. Before she could respond, he suddenly stiffened. He lifted his head and moved it slowly from side to side, his eyes flicking back and forth. He reminded her of a jungle cat now. Feral, powerful, alert. She thought he could even be sniffing the air for danger, if such a thing were possible.

He seemed almost to have forgotten her presence. What was going on? One moment he was totally focused on her, almost mesmerizing her, and now it was as if she didn't even exist. What could have drawn his attention so completely? Glancing around the yard, she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

Stefan knew better than to ignore his instincts. Danger was near—not immediate, but close.

"I have to go," he said. He took two quick steps away, then stopped and looked back. "I will see you again," he promised.

Leesa wasn't quite sure how she felt about that promise. He was certainly attractive—she was sure Cali would say "hot"—and his manner seemed friendly enough. But there was something unsettling about him as well, beyond even that brief moment when she almost lost herself in his eyes. She watched him cross the yard, moving quickly without seeming to hurry, gliding across the lawn with a smooth grace that once again reminded her of a jungle cat. His black clothes seemed to draw the shadows into them, making him difficult to follow. In just a few seconds, he vanished into the darkness beyond the yard. A sense of déjà vu passed over her. What was it about her that kept causing hot guys to disappear so abruptly?

Across the street from the BPD house, hidden by the dark shadow of the ancient maple against which he leaned, Rave watched Leesa limp up the steps with her friend and disappear into the house. He had been watching her frequently the last few weeks. A couple of times he thought she might have detected his presence, but he was skilled at disappearing and had managed to remain unseen.

He still wasn't sure why he was following her. Perhaps it was a sense that she needed his protection, but he knew there was more to it than that. Something about her pulled at him, and the feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced. A warm tingling, so like the first hint of prey, yet so completely different. It was an ignition, surely—but of what? He glanced down at his fingers, expecting to see the faint flicker of blue flame, yet somehow not surprised to see nothing. None of it made sense.

What was it about her? Sure, she was pretty, extremely so, but he had seen lots of pretty women in his long life. Unlike some of his kind, Rave did not mind humans. He mingled with them now and then, and had even called one a friend many years ago. He knew human women were drawn to him. Over the years, he had grown skilled at keeping them away without distressing them. Never had he had felt the pull in return, though. Not until now. He was finding it more and more difficult to stay away.

And so here he was, watching her yet again. For a little while he could see her through one of the windows, standing with her friend, but then they moved deeper into the house, gone from his sight, and the night seemed to darken a notch. He was tempted to go inside, but he didn't like crowded spaces, so he remained where he was, always the patient hunter, enjoying the music and watching the students come and go through the front door.

Eventually, he grew weary of his vigil and decided to move around to the back of the house for a while. He circled the block and crept behind the row of frat houses. As he drew closer to the party house, he saw lots of kids milling about in the spacious backyard, so he melted deeper into the shadows. When he was certain he was effectively invisible, he hoisted himself effortlessly into a leafy tree and found a comfortable perch from which to watch.

He spotted Leesa near the stairs by the back door. She was talking to someone, but he couldn't see who. He guessed it must be her friend, but despite the elevation provided by his vantage point, his view was blocked by a group of tall young men. He hoped they didn't move and block his view of Leesa as well.

He loved watching her—the shy downward tilt of her jaw, her bright smile, the way her fingers twirled in her hair when she was nervous. Even from this distance, he still felt the pull.

He watched contentedly for a few minutes, until the group of kids blocking his view edged away, allowing him to see the person she was talking to. The guy was tall and slender, dressed in black. Rave began to grow warm. Vampire? He was surprised he hadn't sensed the creature sooner. The girl was more distracting than he had thought.

Blue fire began to glow unbidden from his fingertips. He curled his hands into fists to hide the telltale glow and willed the heat down, forcing himself to be patient. There was no need to rush. If the guy was a vampire, he would do nothing in so public a place. But what was he doing here? And why had he singled out Leesa? Was it mere chance, or something more ominous?

His mind raced. He had to do something, but this was no place for a fight. Too many humans could be hurt, not to mention the attention a confrontation would bring. He could not allow the creature to continue working its spell, though. He felt the heat begin to rise inside him again. This time, he let it grow, careful to keep it under control.

He saw the guy stiffen, watched his head swing from side to side. There was no longer any doubt about him being a vampire—he had sensed Rave's heat and registered the danger. Rave forced his fire down now, locking it inside him. He didn't want the creature to locate him, merely to let it know the threat was there. He hoped it would be enough.

And it was. He watched the vampire spin away from Leesa and glide quickly across the lawn and out of the yard. Rave followed at a safe distance, making sure it was truly leaving. Rave considered taking it once they were alone, but decided against it. The vampire was alert to the danger—there could be no guarantee of the outcome. For now, it was enough that the creature was going.

Rave circled back to the party, his senses on high alert. He probed every inch of the shadows until he was satisfied the threat was gone. Everything seemed as it should. But the game had changed. It was time to talk to the girl.

She was still outside, arms wrapped around her waist as if she were cold. He was afraid she might head back into the house at any moment, and that would not do. He needed her to remain alone. Running his fingers through his hair, he walked toward her.

She looked up at his approach. A surprised expression crossed her face. Rave was pleased to see the surprise was followed by a smile. He smiled back.

Leesa's body began to tingle as the Maston guy drew nearer. This was crazy. One smile, and already her knees felt weak. He was even better looking than she remembered—his bronze skin flawless, almost like marble in its smoothness, his smile wide and especially bright against his dark complexion. His coppery hair glinted in the moonlight, seeming almost to smolder when the light hit it just right, and a simple bronze medallion on a leather thong around his neck did the same. His clothes—plain brown T-shirt and jeans—fit his athletic body perfectly, especially the jeans. She found herself wishing he would turn around for a moment, and felt herself begin to blush. A minute ago she had been feeling cold, but suddenly she felt very warm. Her hand moved to her hair.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

"Yes...I mean, no, I don't mind." Her fingers began twirling in her hair. "Yes, you can join me," she added, struggling to make herself clear.

His smile widened. "I'm Rave."

"Leesa," she managed to reply.

"Hi, Leesa."

"What kind of name is Rave?" She hated the question the as soon as she asked it.

"The only kind I've ever known," he said simply.

She took a breath and forced herself to stop staring at his gorgeous face. What to say now? She said the first thing that came to mind. "I bet I can guess your last name."

He looked amused. "Oh? And how would you do that?"

"I have psychic powers," she said, trying to make her voice deep and mysterious, hoping she wasn't sounding like a fool.

She reached forward to put her hands on the side of his head—anything to touch that hair—but he stepped back more quickly than she could have imagined and her hands closed on empty air. She tried to hide her surprise—and her disappointment. She etched a look of concentration onto her face instead.

"It's.......ummmm.......Mas....Masters. No, wait! Not Masters...Maston. Yea, that's it. Maston."

He laughed, and the sound melted her remaining nervousness.

"I see you've heard about us." he said. "Nothing good, I expect."

"My best friend grew up in East Hampton. She told me about your people."

Rave put his hand over his heart and sighed with exaggerated drama. "Oh, no! Even worse." He grinned. "Those townspeople tell all kinds of stories about us."

"Are any of them true?"

"Human sacrifices and stuff? Sorry, no. Nothing so exciting."

Leesa feigned disappointment. "Drat. I could use the excitement."

"Is that why you were talking to that guy who just left?"

Leesa was surprised. How long had he been watching? Was he jealous? She hoped so. "Stefan? He didn't hang around long enough for me to find out."

The name rang ominously in Rave's ears. It was a name he had heard before. Stefan was a very powerful vampire. "You need to stay away from him."

The seriousness of his tone alarmed her. "Why? Do you know him?"

"I know of him."

Leesa thought how similar that was to what Cali said about Rave. "What do you know?"

"I know he is very dangerous."

"My friend said the same thing about you. Should I stay away from you, too?"

Rave did not reply right away. "Your friend is right," he said after a moment. "I am dangerous. Perhaps even more dangerous than Stefan, though that remains to be proven."

He stepped closer, cutting the distance between them in half. Leesa thought she felt the temperature rise a few degrees, but that had to be her imagination—didn't it? She thought briefly of strange blue fires and deadly kisses, then tried to brush those stories from her mind.

"But I hope not dangerous to you," he added softly.

She studied his face. He didn't look dangerous, but there was something undeniably powerful and mysterious about him. Could that be why she found him so attractive? She knew girls back in high school who had a thing for bad boys, but she had never been one of them. For now, she would give him the benefit of the doubt. "I believe you," she said at last.

He smiled, looking relieved.

"Why is Stefan so dangerous?" she asked. "What do you know about him?"

Rave wasn't sure how much to tell her. If he opened that door, how far would he have to go? "I'm not sure you'd believe me. Worse, you might think I'm crazy."

Leesa tilted the water bottle to her lips and drained the last of the water. This whole night was getting stranger by the minute. First Stefan disappeared for no apparent reason, and then Rave shows up minutes later, after she had spent weeks hoping to see him again. And he somehow knew Stefan. Knew of him, she reminded herself. She needed to learn more.

"Try me," she said.

Rave thought for a moment and decided he had no choice. He had to tell her. The most important thing was for her to be safe, to stay away from Stefan. He hoped she would believe him. "This is going to sound crazy, I know," he said. "Stefan is a vampire."

He saw the shock register in her eyes, but it was a shock of surprise, not disbelief. Unexpectedly, she seemed open at least to the idea of vampires. Perhaps it was the vampire class she was taking; perhaps it was something more. Either way, she didn't dismiss it out of hand, as he feared she might—as most humans would.

Leesa studied Rave's face. She saw no hint of humor or guile. It was the last thing she had expected to hear, but he was serious. "A vampire? Are you certain? How do you know?"

"Believe me, I know." He wasn't ready to go further just yet. His people worked hard to remain in the shadows, to keep who they were and what they could do secret. "Trust me, please. Whatever you do, do not let yourself be alone with him." He glanced over her shoulder and saw Cali inside moving toward the doorway. He definitely did not want to talk to both of them. Especially since Cali was from East Hampton. "Your friend is coming. I need to go."

Here comes the disappearing act again, Leesa thought. At least this time they had talked. "When will I see you again?" she asked.

"Soon," he promised, before turning and heading toward the back of the yard.

Leesa thought she could still feel the warmth of his presence. "Soon" echoed in her head as she watched him disappear into the shadows.

"Hey, Leesa, whatcha been doin' out here?"

Leesa turned at the sound of Cali's voice. Her friend was all smiles as she clomped down the steps. Leesa wondered if she'd had another one of those Jager bomb things.

"Oh, just fighting off the guys," Leesa said in a tone she hoped sounded nonchalant. "Where's Andy?"

"Tending bar. He's pretty fun. And he's a senior. He made me another J-Bomb—he got even cuter after that." Cali laughed. "I gave him my number." She fluffed her fingers through her hair, letting the cool air hit her neck. "What about you? Talk to any cute ones out here?"

"Yeah, two of them, actually. I didn't give them my number, though. Maybe next time." She would tell Cali soon about Rave, at least, but not yet. First, she needed to try to make sense out of everything that had just happened.

12. A PLEASANT STROLL

It's another hot night, dry and windless. Indian summer, Cali had called it. Not something Leesa was familiar with in San Diego, where it was like summer most of the year, and not all that cold the rest of the time. But here in Connecticut, the near-eighty degree temperatures were fifteen degrees warmer than normal for the second week of October. For three days now, the kids at Weston had been sporting shorts and T-shirts, or even bathing suits, spending as much time outside as they could, tossing Frisbees and footballs or lounging on colorful towels and blankets spread out on the grass.

Definitely not vampire weather, Leesa thought as she strolled home from the library, the night air feeling especially warm after her stint in the air-conditioned building. She made a mental note to ask Dr. Clerval about that in class tomorrow. Did vampires really hate the sun, or was that just part of the legend that had grown up around them? If they existed at all, she reminded herself. Rave certainly spoke as if they did.

She hadn't seen Rave since last week's party, or Stefan, either, for that matter. She thought she'd sensed Rave's presence a couple of times, but never spotted him. Maybe it was simply wishful thinking. As if on cue, she felt that same strange warm feeling again, but decided it was just her imagination. She smiled—he had certainly made an impression on her, considering she had only seen him twice, and not for very long at that. If only his folk used phones, she could at least have given him her number. Then if she didn't hear from him, she would know his interest was not as keen as hers. She resisted the urge to turn around and look for him.

"Hi, Leesa."

And there he was, walking next to her, as handsome as she remembered, somehow materializing out of the night without a sound. Was he really there, or had she conjured him up like some guardian genie out of a fairy tale? He sure looked real—if someone so gorgeous could be real. She kept walking, trying to hide her surprise. Stay calm, she told herself. Act nonchalant.

"Hi, Rave. How've you been?"

He grinned that wide grin of his, and Leesa felt her heart flutter. So much for staying calm, she thought.

"Feeling pretty good right now, I have to say," he replied. "It's a beautiful night for a stroll." He casually looked her up and down. "You look really good in red."

Leesa was wearing a dark red Weston T-shirt and white shorts. She felt herself begin to blush and hoped he couldn't see it in the darkness. "Thanks."

"How was the library?"

She stopped and turned to face him. How long had he been around tonight?

"You been stalking me?" she asked teasingly.

"I wouldn't call it stalking," he said, still smiling. "More like keeping an eye on you now and then. Making sure you're safe."

"Safe from Stefan?" she asked. "You jealous?"

Rave's face turned serious. "I meant it when I told you how dangerous he is. Please trust me on that."

Leesa was struck by the seriousness of his tone and discovered she liked his concern. "I believe you," she said. "I haven't seen or heard from him."

"I'm glad to hear that. But stay careful, please."

They resumed walking. Leesa could feel his attention focused on her, but also noticed how aware he seemed of everything around them. She wasn't sure how she knew it, but she was certain no sound or movement anywhere nearby escaped his notice. In addition to myriad other feelings, some of which she still didn't understand, she felt safe with him nearby.

"It must be strange not to have a phone," she said after a few moments.

A bemused expression appeared on his handsome face. "Is it strange not to have wings?" he asked.

His question confused her. She was certain her puzzlement showed on her face.

"You don't miss what you've never had," he explained. "It's just the way things are."

Leesa guessed that was true, at least partially. "But what about a car? How do you get anywhere?"

Rave stopped and lifted his foot off the ground. "With these," he said, smiling. "I walk, like we are now. Only a bit faster." He started forward again, seeing no need to add that his kind could cover fifty miles in a matter of hours, if necessary.

"Can you at least take a bus or a cab if you need to?"

He shook his head. "Nope. We walk. Run if we're in a hurry," he added with a grin.

Leesa wasn't satisfied. She wanted to know more about him—wanted to know everything about him, in fact. "Why don't your people use any modern stuff? Is it a religious thing?"

"No, it's not religious. It's just the way we are, the way we've always been. Change comes slowly to us. My people and modern technology don't seem to get along, for some reason." The reason was simple, but he wasn't ready to reveal it. The heat and energy within a volkaane's body did not mix with electrical or battery-operated appliances.

They were approaching Leesa's dorm. She didn't want the evening to end and tried to think of a way to keep it going. Maybe she should continue walking, pretending this was not her dorm. But if he had been keeping an eye on her the way he said, he might already know this was where she lived, and she would look foolish.

Rave halted at the walkway to the dorm. Leesa's heart sank. He did know.

"You in a hurry to get home?" he asked. "Or can you walk a bit longer?"

Leesa felt her heart skip a beat. She smiled—this was getting to be almost like a date. "I'd love to walk some more. Like you said, it's a beautiful night."

They strolled past her dorm, continuing up the sidewalk toward the athletic fields. The campus was noisier than usual—music, television and voices rode out through windows thrown open to the warm night. The first fallen leaves crackled now and then under Leesa's feet, and she wondered why Rave never seemed to step on any. She listened carefully for a few steps but heard no sound at all from his footfalls. His soft-bottomed moccasin-style shoes were silent. What must he think of her as she limped along, crunching every dead leaf in sight?

But he didn't appear to notice, or at least not to care. The farther they walked, the more conscious she became of the feeling of heat between them. Take my hand, she thought as they walked, trying to will him to show his interest. Please, take my hand. If only she knew what he was thinking...

Leesa would have been thrilled to know what was going on in Rave's head, for he felt happier strolling beside her than he'd been in a long, long time. He wondered what it was about her that drew him so strongly. It was more than her looks, more than her smile, more than the soft tones of her voice. He suddenly felt an almost irresistible urge to hold her hand, but touching her would raise questions he was not prepared to answer, so he forced the urge down.

The night grew quieter as they strolled past the ball fields, empty and dark tonight, then much louder when they passed near Fraternity Row. Lost in the thrill of Rave's company, Leesa noticed neither. Their conversation flowed easily, and their few silences were equally comfortable. An hour flew by, feeling like mere minutes. They walked all the way to the main campus entrance before turning and heading back.

Rave bid her goodnight in front of her dorm. For a moment, Leesa hoped he might kiss her, but somehow knew he wouldn't. Most guys would have been all over her given half a chance, and probably would have tried to inveigle their way up to her room, too. But Rave was different from other guys in every way imaginable, so why shouldn't he be different in this as well? She would have to trust what her heart was telling her—that he liked her a lot, maybe as much as she liked him. And he had promised he would see her again soon. She could hardly wait.

"You did what?" Cali exclaimed.

"It was just a walk," Leesa said defensively.

Needing to share her excitement with someone, she had gone straight to Cali's room after her walk with Rave. Cali sat cross-legged on the bed, wearing a camouflage tank top and tan shorts, a textbook open on her lap. She had painted her toes in rainbow hues, Leesa noticed. The room's lone window was open, and she could smell the night air. "Use Somebody" by the Kings of Leon rumbled from Cali's iPod Dock.

"Just a walk," Cali mimicked. "All alone in the dark with a guy from some cult that does human sacrifices, for all we know."

Leesa hopped onto the bed beside Cali. "Oh, come on. You don't believe that stuff."

"Well, maybe not that," Cali admitted. "But those people are weird. You should be careful." She shook her head and grinned. "Imagine, me being the voice of reason. What's the world coming to?"

They both laughed.

"He's really nice," Leesa said. "We had a lot of fun. He didn't even try to kiss me goodnight. Heck, he didn't even hold my hand. I wanted to so bad I almost reached out and grabbed his." She felt her heart begin to quicken at the thought.

Cali laughed again. "See, I told you he was weird. Any normal guy would've tried to get a little tongue, at least. Just be careful, okay? I don't want to have to find a new best friend."

Leesa wondered why everyone was telling her to be careful. Was Middletown, Connecticut, really such a dangerous place? Rave said be careful of Stefan; Cali said be careful of Rave.... Who would Stefan tell her to be careful of? Cali?

Cali thumped her book closed and dropped it onto the bed beside her. "I'm tired of studying. Let's go see if Caitlin and Stacie are up for some Guitar Hero."

Leesa got up from the bed. She could use a little distraction—was it starting to get warm again?

13. FRIENDLY WARNINGS

The sun was slowly sinking into the deep green hills west of the campus as Leesa and her three friends waited on the sidewalk in front of the dorm for Uncle Roger to pick them up and take them to Meriden for a home-cooked meal. Leesa had been back for dinner several times since school started, but this was the first time she was bringing her friends. After a month of subsisting on dorm food, they were going to love her aunt's cooking, and she couldn't wait until they tasted one of her uncle's pies.

The Indian summer of a few days before was now but a pleasant memory, and the late afternoon had grown crisp. Leesa zipped her San Diego sweatshirt up against the chill. Cali had dressed down for the occasion—"rule ninety-nine: don't make the relatives think I'm a bad influence," she had joked—wearing her pink hoodie with the checks on one sleeve, hip-hugger jeans with no rips, and a pair of gray Nike running shoes adorned with pink swooshes. Her "girly sneakers," she called them. She had six or seven leather and bronze bracelets dangling from her right wrist to keep her from feeling "too plain." Stacie wore a fuzzy, oversized powder blue sweater that hung below her butt cheeks like a short dress, with tight black leggings and gray Ugg boots, while Caitlin sported a black argyle sweater with gray and white diamonds in vertical columns down the front, dark gray pants and black flats.

Uncle Roger pulled to the curb at precisely six o'clock, as promised. He left the engine running as he climbed out of the Expedition and waddled around the front to give Leesa a big hug. Leesa hugged him back, then pulled free and introduced her friends to her uncle.

"Nice to meet you all," he said, smiling warmly. "Leesa's told us all about you."

"Not all about us, I hope," Cali joked.

"Ha! Don't worry," Leesa said. "Only the good stuff."

"Well, let's get going," Uncle Roger said. "My wife's eager to meet you, too."

Led Zeppelin was singing about some lady who was sure all that glittered was gold as Leesa climbed into the front seat. Her friends slid into the back, with Stacie getting stuck in the middle. The car smelled deliciously of fresh-baked pie. Uncle Roger had come straight from the bakery, and three steaming pies lay across the back cargo area. Leesa recognized the aroma of cinnamon-laced baked apples and thought she detected the smell of peach as well.

"Yum!" Caitlin said, breathing deeply of the sweet aroma. "Maybe we should have dessert first."

"You know what we say in the bakery business," Uncle Roger said. "Life is short—eat dessert first. I'm not sure my wife would approve, though. She's making pizza."

"Double yum," said Caitlin.

Saturday traffic was light, and the ride to Meriden passed quickly. Leesa led her friends into the house after Uncle Roger assured them he could handle the pies himself. Max raced to greet her as soon as she stepped through the doorway. She dropped to one knee and gave him her traditional chest-rub greeting, then introduced him to her friends, who fawned over him with equal enthusiasm. With so much attention, Max was in dog heaven.

Finally, the girls stood up, and Leesa introduced them to her aunt, who pulled off her spattered blue and white checkered apron and hugged each of them in turn.

"It's so nice to meet all of you," Aunt Janet said. "I hope you'll come often."

"If that pie tastes as good as it smells, Caitlin may never leave," Cali joked.

"There'll be plenty to take back with you," Aunt Janet said, laughing. "I hope you all like pizza."

"Are you kidding?" Stacie said. "What college kid doesn't?"

"Go ahead and sit," Aunt Janet said, refastening her apron. "Dinner will be ready in a couple of minutes."

The girls arranged themselves around the table, Caitlin and Stacie on one side, Leesa and Cali on the other. The table was covered by an ivory tablecloth and set with sand-colored dinnerware and crystal goblets. Two tall red candles flickered in brass candlesticks a third of the way from each end. Max wasn't allowed near the table while people were eating, so he retreated to his favorite spot in front of the fireplace. After depositing the pies in the kitchen, Uncle Roger joined his guests at the head of the table.

Aunt Janet emerged from the kitchen carrying a big wooden salad bowl filled with tomatoes, green and red peppers, mushrooms and cucumbers on a bed of Romaine lettuce. She set the salad down in the center of the table. Leesa thought it looked delicious.

"I don't know if you young ladies like salad," Aunt Janet said, "but I know Leesa does, and I'm sure your mothers will be happy I offered."

She disappeared back into the kitchen, returning a moment later with three flasks of homemade dressing. "Balsamic, Italian and Ranch," she said, placing the bottles on the table. "Help yourselves."

Leesa dug into the salad, filling her plate, then passed the bowl to Cali, who took enough to be polite. Caitlin took about the same, while Stacie took almost as much as Leesa.

"Pizza's on," Aunt Janet said, carrying a rectangular wooden cutting board covered with a steaming pizza into the dining room. The aroma of spicy tomato sauce preceded her. "It's Hawaiian style, Leesa's favorite. I hope you girls don't mind ham and pineapple on your pizza."

"No problem," Caitlin said. "It smells great."

"Eat all you want—there's another one in the kitchen." Aunt Janet set the pizza down next to the salad. "Is Diet Pepsi okay for everyone? I have bottled water if you'd prefer."

The girls all chose soda. Aunt Janet brought four cans from the kitchen, and the girls filled their goblets. Uncle Roger poured red wine for his wife and himself.

"To new friends," he toasted, lifting his glass.

They all clinked glasses, then got down to the business of eating. The first part of the dinner passed in relative quiet, as the hungry girls concentrated on the pizza. The talk consisted mostly of comments about how good the pizza tasted and how bad dorm food was. The first pizza disappeared quickly, and Aunt Janet brought in the second. She and Uncle Roger were happy to let the girls enjoy their meal. As their appetites became sated, the conversation blossomed.

"Did Leesa tell you she met a guy she has the hots for?" Cali asked from behind her soda, her tone all innocence.

Leesa blushed and kicked her friend's ankle under the table.

"No, she didn't," Aunt Janet said, looking at Leesa and smiling. "Pray tell."

"It's no big deal," Leesa said. "I've only talked to him twice."

"I've warned her to be careful," Cali continued. "He's a Maston."

Uncle Roger turned to Leesa. "Oh?" he said.

Leesa thought she saw a bit of concern on her uncle's normally cheerful face. "You know about the Mastons?" she asked.

"A little." Uncle Roger wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I grew up in East Haddam. That's not all that far from Moodus. My buddies and I used to go up there when we were in high school, see if we could hear the noises. Never went into the Maston settlement, though."

"Did you ever hear the noises?" Stacie asked.

"One time, yes. It was the strangest thing, sort of like a subway rumbling underground. It lasted almost ten minutes."

"Did you ever see any blue fire or hear any screams?" Cali asked.

"Oh, come on, Cali," Leesa said, frowning. "You know that stuff's nonsense."

"I didn't, no," Uncle Roger said. "But a friend of mine swears he saw blue flashes out there one night."

"But no human sacrifice?" Leesa asked, looking sarcastically at Cali before pointedly helping herself to another slice of pizza.

Uncle Roger chuckled. "No, no sacrifices, human or otherwise."

"I know the Mastons don't drive, or use phones or computers or anything," Aunt Janet said. "What else have you heard, Roger?"

"The same crazy stuff Cali was talking about. Voodoo magic kind of stuff. Nothing to believe." He turned to Leesa. "I'm surprised one of them goes to your school though. I didn't know they mixed with regular folk like that."

"He's not a student," Leesa said. "He just hangs out on campus now and then. He's really cute."

"Well, that trumps everything," Uncle Roger chuckled. "As long as he's really cute." He scratched absently at his neck. "I wonder why he hangs around Weston. That's a pretty long walk from Moodus."

"Probably looking for young virgins to sacrifice," Cali said, laughing.

Leesa pushed at her friend's shoulder. "Stop it!" she said, but she was unable to keep herself from chuckling. The others joined in the laughter.

"Seriously, though," Uncle Roger said when the laughter subsided, "there's something a little weird about him walking all the way to Weston to mingle with students. I don't think it's a good idea to get involved with him, Leesa."

"I agree with your uncle," Aunt Janet added. "No matter how nice he is, I'm not sure what could come of it. You live in such different worlds."

Leesa knew that what her aunt and uncle said made sense—more sense than what Cali kept saying, for sure. She couldn't call Rave, or even text or email him. And how would they ever go anywhere, when he wouldn't ride in a car or take a bus? She wondered if it was okay for him to ride a bike. That would be something, at least. Was he allowed to go to the movies, watch TV or play Guitar Hero? Her aunt and uncle were right—she and Rave did live in different worlds. But her aunt and uncle had not felt the feelings that surged through her whenever she saw him—heck, when she even thought about him. She wasn't sure she could give that up even if she wanted to.

She was glad she hadn't mentioned Stefan to anyone, except in passing to Cali as a guy she'd talked to briefly at the party. They would be on her case doubly hard, especially if she told them that Rave said Stefan was a vampire. She could only imagine their reaction to that. No way was she going there. They'd think Rave was out of his mind, for sure. This family had heard enough about vampires.

"How about some pie?" she asked instead.

"I'll second that," Caitlin said.

14. SHADOWS AND LIGHT

"They say when trouble comes close ranks," Professor Clerval told the class. "And that's what the vampires did. Once solitary creatures, they began collecting into covens, for protection and to maintain some kind of order, to put limits on the indiscriminate killing that was calling too much attention their way."

"Protection from what?" asked a voice Leesa recognized. She had chosen the back row, as always, in case Rave showed up again. A few rows down to her right, she spotted the questioner's familiar red hair. Stanley. The guy asked at least one question every class, usually a good one. She wished she were as confident.

"From us," the professor replied. "And whatever else hunts them."

"You're not saying vampires are afraid of us, are you?" asked another guy, the disbelief evident in his voice.

"Individually, no, of course not. Vampires are much too powerful. But when people gather in an armed mob, even a vampire can be threatened. By limiting the number of victims they take, they remain in the shadows, living near us, around us, unseen and unsuspected. But you can bet that some of the thousands of people who are killed or who disappear in this country every year were taken by vampires."

Leesa was fascinated. Ever since Rave told her vampires were real, she had viewed this class in a whole new way, no longer thinking the professor might only be pretending vampires existed. Instead, she felt he was talking with genuine authority. How he had come by all his knowledge she had no idea, but she was eager to learn everything she could.

"Speaking of shadows," said a voice to her left, "do vampires come out only at night?"

Leesa turned and saw it was one of the goth guys, clumped with his fellows in their usual place near the back. She gasped when she saw Stefan sitting next to them. What was he doing here? He was dressed all in black again, this time a black T-shirt instead of the button shirt he'd worn at the party. He blended in with the goths, but she could tell he was not really with them. Using them for camouflage, she guessed. His dark eyes caught hers, and he smiled. Reflexively, she returned his smile, then remembered Rave's warning and looked away.

"Of course," replied a guy on the other side of the room. "Sunlight burns 'em up."

"No, it doesn't," a girl countered. "But sunlight makes their skin glitter, which gives them away."

"I believe the truth is somewhere in between," Professor Clerval said. "The idea of vampires burning or disintegrating in the sunlight provides a nice dramatic angle, allowing bits like having them sleep in coffins and creating great visual effects for the movies." He moved out from behind the lectern to the front of the stage. "According to the most authoritative sources I've been able to find, vampires don't like the sun because it hurts their skin. So they prefer the night, or overcast days like today. And they will certainly keep to the shadows as much as possible."

Leesa thought of her mother, avoiding the sun because it burned her skin.

"But they can handle the sun if necessary," Professor Clerval continued. "And they definitely don't glitter, in spite of what Twilight tells us. So you could be talking to a vampire and never know it."

"Then how can you tell if someone is a vampire?" goth guy asked.

"Well, since they avoid the sun," Professor Clerval replied, "they're usually quite pale." He grinned. "But then again, so are you."

Leesa joined her classmates in laughter. The professor waited until the room quieted. "If you can get one in front of a mirror, you'll know by the absence of a reflection," he said. "Otherwise, you have no way to tell."

"Until the fangs come out," a guy in front remarked, drawing more laughter.

Professor Clerval chuckled. "Well, there is that. But it's probably a bit late at that point."

The talk of fangs presented Leesa with the opening she had been waiting for, but dreading. She had hoped to catch the professor after class one day to ask him privately, but he always had a cluster of students around him when class ended. Taking a deep breath to muster her courage, she raised her hand, hoping she wasn't going to sound stupid.

Professor Clerval pointed a bony finger at her. "Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of a one-fanged vampire?" she asked.

Professor Clerval moved across the stage to a spot directly in front of Leesa and looked up at her silently, as if studying her. "You would be Ms. Nyland?" he said finally.

Leesa sucked in a startled breath. How had he known her name? Her cheeks grew warm as she found herself looking down onto a sea of upraised faces. Whether everyone was looking at her because she'd asked a stupid question or because the professor knew her name, she had no idea. Her fingers began dancing in her hair. She wished she had an invisibility cloak or a magic ring to make herself disappear. "Yes," she managed to reply. "Leesa."

"Well, Leesa, it turns out I have heard of one-fanged vampires. And not just because another student asked me that same question a couple of years ago. Interestingly, that student had the same last name as yours."

Leesa's heart jumped. Bradley! Yes, her brother certainly would have asked about it. And he probably didn't wait until the sixth class to do it, either.

"My brother," she said.

"I thought as much when I saw your name on my roster. I was wondering when you'd get around to asking." Professor Clerval smiled. "Your brother was a lot less shy."

Don't I know it, Leesa thought, feeling as if she might melt under all the eyes still staring up at her. She wished she and Dr. Clerval could talk about this alone. That would be sooo much easier.

"Might you and I have a word after class?" Professor Clerval asked.

"Yes, of course," Leesa said, breathing a sigh of relief. Someone had heard her prayers!

The professor ambled back to the lectern. "Vampires are thought to be models of physical perfection," he said to the class. "Fast, strong, handsome or beautiful. And by and large, much of that seems to be true. But there are stories that every now and then, something goes awry in the transmission process when a victim is bitten. The result of such an occurrence is a flawed creature, without the powers of a true vampire. Vampires have a name for such a creature—grafhym. The chief marker for a grafhym, it is said, is one fang instead of two."

Leesa's head was spinning. She thought back to her mom's tale, to all her strange behavior. Was it possible there was some truth behind it after all, as incredible as it seemed? She was suddenly aware that Stefan was now seated beside her. She'd been so distracted she hadn't even noticed his arrival, which was hard to believe, looking at him now and feeling his raw sensuality.

"Stefan!" It was all she could do to keep her voice quiet.

Stefan smiled at her. "Hi, Leesa. Nice to see you again."

His accent only heightened his sensuality. "What are you doing here?" she whispered. "You're not in this class, are you?"

"No, but sometimes I hang out with my 'friends' over there." He nodded toward the goth group. "I don't stand out quite so much that way. Besides, I like hearing about vampires. They're fascinating creatures."

Leesa thought back to Rave's warning that Stefan was a vampire. He certainly looked the part—as if she had any idea what a real vampire looked like, she reminded herself—but sitting here next to him in class, the idea seemed ridiculous. Now, if he had popped up at midnight in some dark place...

"And it gives me a chance to say hi to you," he continued, making no effort to hide the flirtation in his voice.

She couldn't tell whether he meant he was here because she was, or simply that once he had seen her, he wanted to say hello. She wasn't sure which she preferred, and she was too embarrassed and afraid to ask. "It's nice to see you again," she managed to say, hating how lame she sounded.

"I see you have a special interest in vampires," Stefan said, his eyes beginning to take on that same bottomless look Leesa remembered from the party. She felt herself being drawn into them. "I'm curious," he continued. "Where did you hear about the one-fanged kind?"

"Oh, just some stories my mom told me when I was little," Leesa said, trying to make it seem of little importance.

There was a general shuffling in the room, the sound of notebooks closing and students getting to their feet and filing out of the lecture hall. She hadn't even heard Dr. Clerval end the class.

"I know you need to talk with Professor Clerval," Stefan said. "It was good to see you again, Leesa."

They stood up. "You too," Leesa replied.

"Maybe next time we'll have a chance to discuss our mutual interest in vampires," Stefan said as they began edging toward the end of the aisle.

The flirtation, or whatever it was, was stronger in his tone now. His magnetism was undeniable. "Maybe," Leesa replied, trying to keep her voice noncommittal. She turned and began descending the stairs. "Bye, Stefan."

When she reached the stage, she found Dr. Clerval and Randolph surrounded as usual by a cluster of students. As Leesa limped closer, the professor smiled at her.

"Okay, everyone," he said. "Further questions will have to wait. Or feel free to pepper young Renfield with your queries for as long as you want. I wish to spend a bit of time with Ms. Nyland."

A couple of the students drifted away, one girl fixing Leesa with an envious stare. Two stayed behind, talking to Randolph while Dr. Clerval shuffled over to Leesa. Close up, he looked even older than he did from the back of the room. His skin hung loosely from his face and was lined with thin red capillaries and mottled with age spots. In contrast to his aged appearance, his gray eyes were bright and alive.

"Will you join me in my office?" he asked. "It's right upstairs."

Leesa didn't hesitate—the more privacy, the better. "Of course, Professor. I'd love to."

Professor Clerval led her through a doorway behind the stage and into a musty stairwell, showing no effects from his age as they climbed to the third floor. At the top of the stairs, they stepped out into a silent, deserted hallway. Light spilled from an open doorway near the far end of the corridor, but otherwise, the place appeared empty. Their footsteps echoed lightly off brown plaster walls badly in need of a fresh coat of paint.

The professor stopped in front of an old wooden door about halfway down the hall. A brass nameplate, darkened with age in testimony to his tenure here, was affixed to the middle of the door. He inserted a long cylindrical key into the old-fashioned lock and pushed the door open. After flipping the switch to turn on a dim overhead light, he stepped aside in a gentlemanly manner and let Leesa enter first.

She was surprised by how small his office was, smaller even than her dorm room. She had expected a full professor to have a much bigger space. Tall bookcases crammed with books lined every wall, making the room feel even smaller. Cut into the far wall was an arched window similar to the one in her room, though lead strips divided this one into small diamond-shaped sections. Beneath the window was a beautiful antique roll top desk, cluttered with papers. She detected the lingering aroma of old smoke—not at all unpleasant—so she guessed pipe, not cigarettes. Looking closer at the bookcases, she saw the shelves were filled with vampire books. She recognized some of the titles, but there were many she had never heard of. A glass-fronted bookcase housed what looked to be very old, leather-bound manuscripts.

"Please, have a seat," the professor invited, indicating an old wooden chair with a dark burgundy cushioned seat similar to some she remembered from her grandmother's house. He switched on a red and gold glass Tiffany lamp on the corner of the desk to give them a bit more light.

Leesa lowered herself gingerly onto the chair, not really sure how strong it was, but found it quite solid. Professor Clerval pulled a wheeled desk chair from under the desk and spun it around to face her. He sat down and took a curved black pipe and a pouch of tobacco from the top desk drawer.

"Do you mind?" he asked as he tamped a pinch of tobacco into the bowl.

"No, of course not," Leesa replied, happy it wasn't a cigarette, or even worse, a stinky cigar.

"As we get older, we tend to relish the simple pleasures." He lit a wooden match and held it above the bowl, sucking in through the pipe repeatedly until the tobacco was lit. The smoke had a pleasant, fruity scent—cherry, Leesa thought.

The professor leaned back into his chair and puffed on his pipe. Leesa could see his aged features begin to soften as he relaxed. After a moment, he reached into another drawer and pulled out a brass key. He held the key out to Leesa.

"Open that bookcase," he said, indicating the glass-fronted case. "Take out the third volume from the left on the second shelf. Be careful—it's very old."

Leesa took the key and opened the glass front of the case. Using two hands, she gently lifted out the leather-bound volume. The feel of the dried leather reminded her of the dry, crinkly hide of a stuffed iguana she'd once handled in high school biology.

"Here, let me have it," the professor said.

Leesa handed him the old book. "What is it?"

Professor Clerval rested the book on his lap. "It's an original manuscript from the early nineteenth century, said to be the memoirs of a female vampire." He put his pipe into a brass ashtray atop the desk and carefully opened the book. Leesa could hear the leather binding crinkle. She scraped her chair closer.

"Whether it is in fact that, or the work of someone's imagination, I'm not sure. But it contains a small section about the matter of such interest to the Nyland family—one-fanged vampires." He thumbed slowly through the pages, stopping about halfway through. "Ahhh, here it is." He looked up at Leesa. "I don't expect you read Italian?"

Leesa shook her head. "No, just English."

"I'll summarize it for you, then. She writes of a man she wanted to take for her consort, to make him vampire and live by her side. She says she knew something was wrong the instant she began drinking his blood. Some feeling she had never before experienced. The word she uses does not translate well, but a sourness would be a good approximation. When she finished, she failed to see the expected change in his eyes, the look she normally saw when ushering a human into the realm of the undead."

Professor Clerval carefully turned the page. "At first, the man didn't know anything was wrong." He looked up at Leesa. She was sitting on the edge of her chair, her attention riveted upon him.

"How could he know?" he asked. "After all, a person only gets bitten once. But the vampire knew." The professor returned to the book. "She writes that he smiled at her and reached out his hands for hers, but was taken by surprise when she faltered back. I'll quote her now: 'I recoiled in horror as he opened his mouth, for it revealed a thing of which I'd only heard stories, had never seen, and hope never to see again. Just one lone fang dropped from his upper jaw—the mark of a grafhym. The man I wanted for my consort was damaged, imperfect.' She goes on to say he was banished from the tribe immediately, forced out into the forest to live his life alone."

He turned another page. "The final section talks about the phenomenon of grafhym in general. How their powers are sorely limited. And most importantly, how they cannot turn a victim vampire, can at best turn them into weaker versions of themselves."

He closed the book and looked up, smiling. "Kind of like making a copy of a copy, I guess. So tell me, Leesa, why the family interest in something so out of the ordinary as one-fanged vampires? Your brother never said."

Leesa debated briefly how much to tell him, but decided to give him the full story, sensing she might need his help in the future. She began with her mother's "accident" and her claim about being bitten by a one-fanged vampire, and then detailed the bizarre behavioral changes her mom had suffered over the years and how they had shaped her family.

Professor Clerval listened carefully, puffing absently on his pipe as Leesa talked. He didn't interrupt with a single question.

"So whether your mother's story is true or not," he said when she finished, "doesn't really matter. Its effect on your family has been quite powerful."

"Do you think it could be true?" Leesa knew it wouldn't really make any difference—the past is past—but there would be some small comfort in knowing her mom wasn't crazy.

Professor Clerval shrugged. "I don't know. But nothing your mother said contradicts anything of what we just read. And at least some of her behaviors are consistent with grafhym. I'd love to meet her, talk to her."

"She's still in San Diego. I doubt I could convince her to come back here." Leesa thought about the idea for a few seconds. "But I guess I could try. Maybe on a red-eye," she mused.

"Please try," the professor said. "Because there's one very important thing we must consider regarding your mother."

Leesa was struck by the seriousness of his tone. "What's that?" she asked.

Professor Clerval looked at her solemnly. "If your mother simply made up her tale, where would she have heard of a one-fanged vampire? Awareness of the existence of grafhym is exceedingly uncommon."

The professor's words struck Leesa like a slap. Since she had not known one-fanged vampires existed, she had always assumed the story was a creation of her mom's imagination. But how likely was her mom's imagination to have hit so close to what Dr. Clerval had just read from the old manuscript? One fang, maybe—there would have to be only one fang to explain the single puncture in her neck. But the idea of a flawed transfer of power? That was too close to the mark. Leesa breathed deeply. Not since she was a very young child had she found herself believing her mom's story like this.

"I'd love to talk to you and your brother together," Professor Clerval said, pulling Leesa from her musings.

"I wish you could," Leesa replied sadly. "But Bradley's gone."

"Gone?"

"Over a year now. He sent me an email, telling me he was going away and not to try finding him."

Professor Clerval leaned forward. "Uh-oh," he murmured.

Leesa popped out of her chair. "What is it? Do you know something?"

"No. Sorry. Nothing specific, at least. Please, sit." He waited until Leesa sat back down. "I'm betting it had something to do with the girl."

"Edwina?"

"Was that her name? I never formally met her. Bradley brought her to class a couple of times. There was enough room, so I permitted it. They usually sat near the front."

"Why do you think Edwina had anything to do with Bradley's disappearance?" Leesa had guessed it probably did, but she never had any concrete reason to support the belief.

"Something about the way she looked, the way she moved," Professor Clerval said. "But it was more than that. It was the way she looked at you. Arrogant, challenging. Especially whenever I said something out of the mainstream about vampires. Like, who was I, some old man, to try to reveal the mysteries of the undead? As if she possessed a secret knowledge no one else had. Afterward, when I had time to think about it, to put some pieces together, I began to wonder if maybe she was a vampire. And now to learn Bradley is gone. If Edwina is a vampire, God help him."

Leesa's mouth went dry. First her mom, and now Bradley. She stood up and began to pace the tiny office. Even if the stories were all nonsense, the idea of vampires continued to wreck her family. And if they were real, that was even worse. She looked at the professor. He seemed to have aged in the last few minutes. "You don't really think Edwina was a vampire, do you?"

"I have no way of knowing, but she certainly looked the part. And with what you just told me about your family, she could have used that to ensnare your brother." Dr. Clerval picked up his pipe and took a long puff. "If Edwina hinted at forbidden knowledge, Bradley would not have resisted."

Nor would she, Leesa knew. She would have to follow this trail. "Was Edwina a student here?"

"Not to my knowledge. I could look back through the school's databases, I suppose."

"I've already checked the yearbooks. But go ahead, please, in case there's something in your listings." She sat back down. There was a question she had to ask, but she dreaded the answer. "Professor, if she really was a vampire, what does that mean for Bradley?"

The professor's countenance darkened. "If he's been gone as long as you say," he said, "then one of two things, I'm afraid. Either Bradley is a vampire now, or she's made him into a feeder."

Leesa did not at all like the way the professor said that. "What's a feeder?"

"A feeder is a human captive kept as a continuous source of blood. The host drinks the feeder's blood regularly, never biting deeply enough or taking enough blood to turn the victim vampire. The blood is allowed to replenish itself before the vampire drinks again, giving him or her a personal, never-ending well of blood. I would think it a nightmarish existence, caught between the world of the living and the world of the undead."

Leesa shivered. The thought chilled her own blood.

15. GLOVES AND A BROKEN PHONE

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new. Out for her daily walk, Leesa was frustrated with the nothing new. She didn't have class until eleven today, so she decided to do her four-mile loop: out the north gate, down the hill to downtown Middletown and south along Main Street, then back onto campus from the east. Despite the bright sun, the morning was cold enough for her to see her breath—something rare back in San Diego—and she enjoyed puffing out little clouds of steam for the first few minutes of her walk. She had donned three T-shirts under her red Weston sweatshirt and walked with her hands pulled up inside her sleeves. At least I'm stylish, she thought wryly, glancing down at the multicolored layers protruding from her sweatshirt around her hips. And warm, which was really all that mattered, with layers she could peel away as she grew more heated from her exertions.

Her frustrations centered around Bradley. She had heard nothing from Dr. Clerval, which probably meant he had failed to find anything about Edwina in the school's databases. She had finally connected with Bradley's freshman RA and had talked with him on the phone. He spoke highly of her brother, but knew nothing about what he'd been up to during his sophomore year. She wasn't sure where to turn next. Topping off her frustrations, she hadn't seen Rave in more than a week. Not for the first time, she wished he had a damn phone!

But it was too nice out to brood on such negative thoughts, so she turned her attention to the beautiful scenery. The fall foliage was nearing its peak, painting the landscape with a kaleidoscope of colors unlike anything she'd ever seen in San Diego. The maples dotting the long hillside above the north gate were exploding with fiery reds and dark purples, while the oaks glowed gold and yellow. A light breeze rustled the leaves, sending a few of them spiraling to the ground, where a growing carpet of red, yellow and brown speckled the still lush green lawn. She breathed deeply, inhaling the earthy fragrance of the decaying leaves.

As she neared the wide brick columns marking the campus gateway, she felt that familiar, strange sense of Rave's presence. She looked around, but as usual, saw no sign of him. Just for fun, she stopped one step inside the gate and said loudly, "Hi, Rave."

To her surprise, he stepped around the corner and into the gateway. Despite the cold, he wore no jacket, just a navy blue long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans. A pair of black leather gloves covered his hands. He looked perplexed.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked.

"You're always popping up out of nowhere," she said, trying to restrain her smile, "so now I stop before every corner I come to and call your name, just in case."

Rave laughed. "I almost believe you. You going anywhere special?"

"Nope. Just taking my morning walk. Down into Middletown, along Main Street." She started down the sidewalk. "Wanna come along?"

"Now you're reading my mind," he joked as he fell into step beside her. "What other hidden powers do you have?"

She laughed. "I'll never tell." She took in his lack of a jacket again. "Aren't you cold?"

He held up his gloved hands. "As long as I keep my hands warm, I'm good." He didn't tell her his real reason for the gloves—she would find out soon enough.

"Isn't this beautiful?" Leesa asked as they strolled down the hill under a canopy of bright red and gold trees toward downtown. At the end of the long, colorful tunnel, the sun-dappled Connecticut River flowed by, a narrow ribbon of blue and flashing gold. Even the line of cars rumbling alongside them couldn't mar the scene's beauty.

"Yes, it is," Rave said, turning to look at her. "Very beautiful."

Leesa blushed. His dark brown eyes seemed almost to caress her, and she almost missed a step with her bad leg, nearly tripping.

"You're not really talking about the trees, are you?" she managed to stammer.

Rave grinned. "What trees?" he asked innocently. He made a show of looking up at the trees. "Oh, yeah. Not bad. Not bad at all."

Leesa shook her head in a "What am I going to do with you" manner, but couldn't help smiling. She had never felt so at ease with a guy, so comfortable. And it got a hundred times better when Rave reached out and took her hand. Even through his glove, she could feel the inviting warmth of his hand. All her frustrations were temporarily forgotten, shoved aside by her joy.

Hand in hand, they resumed their walk. Leesa warmed up quickly and wondered how much was from the sun and the walk, and how much was from Rave's presence. After a few minutes, they stopped briefly so she could remove one of the T-shirts from under her sweatshirt. At the bottom of the hill they turned right, onto a wide sidewalk lined with shops, bars and restaurants. There were few trees here, the colors coming instead from weathered canvas awnings and painted signs. This street was not as pretty as the one they had just turned off, but Leesa didn't care—not with Rave beside her, still holding her hand. She caught their reflection in the wide window of an old drugstore and liked the way they looked together. At least he's not a vampire, she thought suddenly, recalling what Professor Clerval had said about their lack of a reflection.

"How come you know so much about vampires?" she asked. "Did you take Professor Clerval's class?"

"No, I just pop in to listen now and then," Rave replied. He squeezed her hand. "I'm glad I did."

Leesa squeezed back, but before she could reply, a series of beeps from the small nylon pouch on her hip told her she had a text. It had to be Cali. "Do you mind?" she asked, reaching toward her hip.

"Go ahead," he said, smiling. "I know how attached you people are to those things." He started to pull his hand free from hers, but she grasped it more tightly.

"Oh no you don't," she said. "I can do this with one hand."

She took out her cell, saw it was indeed a text from Cali, and opened it. Before she could read the message, the letters began breaking up and the screen faded to gray. She pulled her hand from Rave's and held the phone in both hands, pressing several keys. Nothing happened. The phone was dead.

"I don't get it," she said, staring at the blank screen. "I charged this thing last night. It can't be dead already."

Rave knew why the phone had stopped working. She should have let go of his hand, but he wasn't ready to tell her that. This was why his people didn't use anything with batteries.

"Don't ask me," he shrugged. "I don't have a clue about those things."

Leesa shook the offending instrument, as if that might bring it back to life, but nothing happened. She dropped the phone back into her pouch and reached out for Rave's hand. This was more fun, anyway.

They continued their walk, heading back up the hill to the campus. Halfway up, Leesa peeled off a second T-shirt. When they began to near her dorm, she wished she had time for another loop. She didn't want this wonderful morning to end. But physics began in less than an hour, and missing even one session of that difficult course would set her back.

"I have to get ready for class," she said when they reached her dorm. "But I'd much rather stay with you if I could."

Rave took both her hands in his. "Me, too."

As she gazed into his beautiful dark eyes, Leesa remembered the comment he had made the last time they were together about not having wings. Right now, she felt like she could fly, wings or no wings. Even if he was still wearing those darn gloves. Now if he would just kiss her...

Rave felt himself beginning to get lost in Leesa's crystal eyes. The pull to kiss her was powerful, almost irresistible. It would be so wonderful to let himself go, to give in to the pull. He forced his eyes down to her hands, still clasped in his.

"You'd better get going." His voice was almost hoarse, caught in his throat. "You don't want to be late."

Leesa blinked. What had just happened? She had been sure he was going to kiss her. She was sooo not good at this stuff. "Will I see you again soon?" she managed to ask.

"Count on it."

He squeezed her hands once, then let go and began walking away. He stopped after a few steps and turned back to her, lifting his hand to his ear and miming a phone.

"I'll call you," he joked. His handsome face broke into a wide grin.

Leesa laughed, then spun around and hurried into the dorm.

16. VAMPIRE COUNCIL

Imagine a ruin so strange, you wonder can it truly exist. Imagine a hole so deep sunlight never penetrates the gloom, a cave so hidden no human has ever discovered it. Imagine a place so dead even vermin and insects avoid all but its outer reaches. And then imagine a cavern so huge and elaborate its twisting chambers can easily house scores of vampires. This is the grotto the Connecticut coven of vampires call home.

For hundreds of years, the vampires have used the perpetual night of this deep cavern to avoid the hated sun and to remain hidden from the ever-increasing human population as well. Cut eons ago under the tree-covered hills on the eastern side of the Connecticut River by a now-vanished underground waterway, the cavern was the perfect hideaway. Thousands of hours of labor shaped the various chambers to suit the vampires' needs—but what were hours, or even years, to the undead, who had eternity?

The largest of the chambers, a vast natural amphitheater a hundred feet across with a ceiling almost thirty feet high in the center, served as their Council chamber. Rows of stone benches carved from the uneven floor faced seven seats hewn from the limestone wall. Small candles in iron holders drilled into the rock spilled meager illumination into the chamber, all the light needed for the more than three score vampires who filled the benches. Seated in the seven places of honor were the members of the High Council, the ruling body of the coven. Stefan, the youngest and least senior among them, sat proudly on the left end. Occupying the middle seat was Ricard, Lord of the Coven and the vampire who had turned Stefan.

A vampire for nearly a thousand years, Ricard was an imposing figure—tall and muscular, with long silver hair gathered by an ornate silver clasp into a ponytail reaching to his waist. The features of his handsome face were sharp and aristocratic.

He raised his arms to signal the waiting crowd to silence.

"By now," he began, his voice deep and sonorous, "even the lessermost among us have sensed the rising energies that foretell Destiratu." The word sent a murmur rumbling through the cavern. Ricard waited patiently before continuing. "And with that rise comes an increase in our hunger, our need to feast. But we must be careful. Many things have changed since Destiratu last surged through our veins. In centuries past, we had little need to restrain ourselves, and it was a time of unbridled feasting. But the humans have grown far more numerous and have developed weapons dangerous even to us. We must make certain we do nothing to draw their attention our way."

Ricard rose to his feet and took two steps forward. "And let us not forget, others will feel the magical energies as well, and their hunger shall also rise. The volkaanes will be hunting, driven by their need as we are by ours." He paused, making sure every eye and every ear was focused upon him. "The Council has come to a decision, binding on every member of this coven. Henceforth, no one outside the Council shall be permitted to venture from these caverns alone. We have already lost Francona, missing more than a fortnight now. From this day forward, only groups of three or more may go out, and then only after gaining permission from a Council member."

A second murmuring echoed through the cavern, louder than the first, but no one voiced an objection.

"Will this truly be Destiratu, my lord?" a raven-haired female in the front row called above the clamor.

Ricard sat down. "No one can say, Edwina. But the signs are there. If the energies continue to grow, further measures will be taken. Destiratu carries pleasures that cannot be reached at any other time, and so brings temptations not felt at other times as well." His lips twisted into a wide smile as he remembered triumphs from Destiratus past, especially the burning blood of volkaanes he had bested.

Stefan rose to his feet. "I have a suggestion, my lord."

Ricard turned to his favorite protégé. "Yes, Stefan? What say you?"

"Perhaps more feeders should be taken," he said, looking out over the assembled coven. "To lessen the hunger and the temptations of the younger and weaker among us."

Ricard considered the idea. "Your suggestion has merit. I leave it to you to talk to those without feeders. Find out who might want one now. The Council will meet again in a few days to decide how to proceed. I take it you have not changed your mind on the subject, Stefan?"

Stefan shook his head. "No, my lord. I seek a consort, and I shall settle for nothing less."

Ricard studied Stefan's face. "Do I sense that you have someone in mind?"

Stefan grinned. "I might."

"Use caution, Stefan. Powerful though you be, you are not immune to danger."

"I know that, my lord. I shall be careful, as always."

17. TEASING

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways," Cali quoted, her voice soft and dreamy. "I love thee enough to hold both thy hands. Woo hoo!" she teased. "But not enough to take off his freaking gloves!"

"Stop it!" Leesa said, laughing hard. She was sitting on the wooden chair in front of Cali's desk, her left elbow resting on the desktop, holding a plastic cup of wine. Green Day was squawking something about Jesus being in suburbia—Leesa had never been able to make complete sense of the song. She set her wine down on the desk to avoid spilling it while she laughed. This was her second glass, the first time she'd ever had more than one, and her head was buzzing. She had already decided two glasses would be her permanent limit. She wasn't all that fond of wine—had tried some only a couple of times before—but this one, a mellow chardonnay with a slightly fruity taste, was actually pretty good. Andy had brought a couple of bottles to Cali's room the night before. He and Cali drank some—Leesa did not want to know what else they did—but there had been a bottle left over, and she and Cali were putting a nice dent into it tonight.

She hadn't come down to Cali's room to drink; she just wanted to share the details of her walk with Rave that morning. But Cali suggested they have some wine, as long as it was there, and Leesa figured why not? She had planned on sipping hers while Cali drank, but the wine tasted better than she expected, and she drank faster than she had planned. The more she drank, the more romantically she described things.

Cali, perched on her bed as usual, was wearing a comfortable pair of baggy purple sweatpants and an oversized gray long-sleeve T-shirt with black and white slashes across the front. She, too, was beginning to feel the effects of the wine and couldn't help teasing as Leesa became more and more sappy.

"You wouldn't be making fun if you were there," Leesa said when she managed to stop laughing. "It was so..." She paused, trying to find the right word in her wine-fogged brain. "So magical."

"Oh, well, as long as it was magical, I'll have to stop teasing you." They both giggled.

Leesa took another sip. Her mind drifted back to that wonderful moment when Rave held both her hands and his dark eyes locked onto hers. "For a minute, I thought he was going to kiss me."

"Ooooh, he almost kissed you!" Cali mimicked, grinning. "What is this, sixth grade?" They both started giggling again.

"Stop it, Cali," Leesa pleaded, trying to control her laughter.

"Do you want to hear if Andy almost kissed me last night?"

"Ha! Please, no. I beg you." Leesa knew Cali and Andy had gone out twice before last night and she had already heard about the passionate goodnight kissing that followed their second date. "I heard enough last time, thank you."

They both broke out laughing again.

Caitlin poked her head in through the doorway, drawn by all the laughter. She was wearing a bright red T-shirt with i love boys printed across the front in giant gold letters. Leesa realized she had never seen Caitlin wear any of her flirty shirts outside the dorm and thought perhaps her friend was not quite as wild as she tried to appear.

"Sounds like you two are having an awful lot of fun," Caitlin said, smiling. "Can I join you?"

"C'mon in, Cat," Cali invited. She lifted the nearly empty bottle of wine. "Want some wine? There's a little left."

"Sure, thanks." Caitlin grabbed a cup from the stack on Cali's desk and plopped down on the edge of the bed, holding the cup out to Cali, who emptied the bottle into the cup.

Caitlin took a big swallow and smacked her lips together with exaggerated delight. "Not bad," she said. "So, what's got you two so fired up?"

"Oh, not much," Cali said. "Leesa's been telling me about her walk with Rave this morning." She paused, and then spoke with exaggerated excitement. "He finally held her hand!"

"Ooooh," Caitlin said, grinning. "Was it good, Leesa?" she teased.

"Oh, great," Leesa said, shaking her head. "Now I've got two of you on my case. I should keep my big mouth shut."

"He kept his gloves on, though," Cali added.

"Uh-oh," Caitlin said in mock seriousness. "That's worse than keeping his socks on during sex."

"Maybe he'll wear the gloves during sex, too," Cali said. "Talk about using protection!"

Cali and Caitlin burst into laughter. "Rule number one: no gloves during sex," Cali said through her laughter.

Leesa tried to control herself, but failed. She joined in the laughter, though not as loudly as her friends. It did seem kind of silly now, but that didn't detract from how wonderful it felt at the time, Cali and Caitlin be damned.

"It gets better," Cali said after a few moments. "He almost kissed her."

Caitlin fluttered her hand dramatically against her chest. "Be still my beating heart," she said. "Really?"

"And it was magical!" Cali continued.

The laughter started up anew, even louder than before. Leesa didn't care. Her friends could tease her all they wanted. What were friends for, anyhow? Besides, it was magical.

When she stopped laughing, Caitlin turned to Cali. "Our little girl is growing up so fast. We'd better have the talk with her."

"You two are too funny," Leesa said, smiling. "Have you thought about taking your act onstage?"

"We're only teasing cuz we love you," Cali said. "You gotta admit, it's pretty funny, at least for us."

"I know," Leesa admitted. "Just don't lay it on too heavy, okay? I'm kinda new to this stuff—unlike a certain pair of wenches I know."

"Ooooh, that hurts," Cali said, clutching her chest.

"Guilty as charged," Caitlin said, grinning and stretching her i love boys T-shirt out from her chest. "Cali warned you those Maston guys were strange, remember?"

"Seriously though," Cali said. "Rave has a gig most guys would kill for. That no-phone thing is too perfect. The perfect excuse never to call. And since he can't call ahead, he can just show up whenever he wants. If this gets out, guys'll be ditching their cells by the hundreds."

They all burst into laughter again. This time, Leesa laughed as hard as the others. She much preferred laughing with, than being laughed at.

Twenty miles to the east, across the river from where the three girls talked and teased and giggled, Rave stood in the dark outside the door of an old cabin, the same incident replaying in his mind. He had so badly wanted to kiss Leesa. For an instant, the pull had been so strong he'd almost forgotten himself, forgotten what he was, forgotten what could happen if his mouth met hers. He had recovered in time, of course, but the memory still burned strong in his mind. He needed to know more, to know what his options were, to know if he could somehow kiss her without killing her.

The cabin was the oldest in their settlement, older than Rave, built of rough hewn logs cut from the surrounding forest more than two hundred years ago. Dried mud black with age chinked the spaces between the logs. The two front windows were tiny—glass had not been an option when the cabin was built, so deer hide had hung over the openings back then. Glass had been added later, and Rave could see flickering light inside, telling him that Balin—his friend, his mentor, the closest thing he had to a father—was inside.

The long-lived volkaanes didn't breed the way humans did. A couple of times each century, all the women of childbearing age became fertile, and the Festival of Renewal took place. A day and a night were spent in song and dance and prayer, and the coupling that followed would produce ten to fifteen offspring, enough to insure the continuation of the tribe. When the infants were born, they were taken from their mothers to a large cabin in the center of the settlement and raised communally, never knowing their true mother or father. It took a full two score years for a volkaane to reach maturity and be deemed ready to take their place among the tribe—ample time to form an attachment to one or more of their teachers, as Rave had with Balin.

Still, he hesitated outside Balin's door. As close as he felt to the old volkaane, he was unsure how or even whether to broach the subject of what was happening between him and Leesa. In the more than a century and a half of his lifetime, no volkaane he knew had ever paired with a human. He'd heard such a thing had been done on rare occasions, but he didn't know if the stories were true. There was only one way to find out. He sucked in a deep breath and knocked on the old wood door.

The volkaane who opened it was tall and thin, an inch or two taller than Rave's six-foot height, with a lean body only slightly bent from more than five hundred years of living. He wore handmade buckskin clothes, the same as he had worn when he was younger—unlike many of his folk, he had never switched to more modern garb. His long hair was dark gray, the color of lead, with streaks of the characteristic Maston copper still visible in places.

Balin's lined face broke into a broad smile when he saw Rave waiting on his doorstep. "Young Rave," he said, "what a nice surprise." He stepped back from the doorway. "Come in, come in."

Rave shook his head as he followed the old volkaane inside. He had been "young Rave" a century and a half ago, and guessed he would remain "young Rave" until Balin finally passed away, probably in another couple hundred years. Rave was in no hurry for that to happen.

The inside of Balin's cabin was Spartan, even by Maston standards. The entire place was one room, six paces wide and ten paces long, furnished with simple, handmade wooden furniture. A rectangular dining table with a split log bench on either side filled most of one end of the place, and a straw-filled sleeping mat covered the floor at the other end. A small fire crackled in a stone fireplace in the far wall, adding its flickering light to the illumination cast by four tallow candles high on the walls. Volkaane fireplaces were used for cooking and light, since they needed no fires for warmth. If necessary, their inner fire could even be used for cooking, but it was usually simpler and more efficient to put something over the fire. Four crude wooden chairs formed a half circle in front of the fireplace—volkaanes enjoyed watching any kind of fire flicker and burn.

"Sit down, young Rave. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Mead?"

Rave sat in front of the fireplace. What to drink was an easy choice. The way he was feeling, it was definitely a night for mead.

"Mead," he said. Like all volkaanes, Rave enjoyed the homemade brew, and Balin's was considered the best in the village.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Balin said, grinning as he uncorked a large bottle and filled two pewter mugs with amber liquid. "Gives me an excuse to have a wee bit myself."

Balin handed Rave one of the heavy mugs and sat down beside him. They clinked mugs and each took a long pull. The sweet brew slid easily down Rave's throat. He detected an extra taste to the honey-based liquid. Something fruity. Balin was always adding extra flavors to his brews.

"Apple?" Rave asked.

Balin nodded. "You've got a good palate, young Rave. Apple it is."

Rave took another swallow, smaller this time, now that the edge had been taken off his thirst.

"So, what brings you to my humble abode this evening?" Balin asked.

Rave blew out a big breath. "I'm not sure where to start."

"When in doubt, the beginning's as good a place as any, I always say."

So Rave began at the beginning, with his first sight of Leesa in the vampire class. He told Balin of the immediate pull he felt toward her, and how the feeling grew stronger each time he saw her. He spoke of their first walk, and of the night at the party—how protective he felt when, almost unbelievably, he found her talking to a vampire. He finished by recounting the details of their walk that morning, and how at the end, he had almost kissed her.

Balin listened closely, sipping his mead and never interrupting, his growing concern showing on his face as Rave spoke.

"Thank goodness you didn't," he said when Rave was finished.

"I know, I know," Rave said. "But I wanted to so badly. Isn't there some way I can do it safely?"

Balin drained the last of his mead and rose to his feet. "This is a two-mug problem, I think." He took Rave's mug and crossed to the table to refill both mugs.

"Such a thing is not unheard of, but it's exceedingly rare," he said after handing Rave his replenished mug. "When I was young, younger than you are now, one of my fellows took up with a human female. For a month or two, everything seemed fine, but one night, he lost control." Balin stopped and took a long pull of mead.

Rave took a drink as well. He saw the sadness in Balin's eyes and knew he wasn't going to like the end of this story. "Go on," he said, needing to hear the details.

"His passion grew too inflamed, and he breathed too deeply of her. He realized it instantly and stopped himself before she burned, but it was too late. The life breath was gone from her." He looked into Rave's eyes. "He was never the same afterward, young Rave, never forgave himself for his loss of control. He died before reaching his second century mark."

"That's horrible," Rave said. He closed his eyes and sipped his mead, replaying in his mind everything Balin had said. "But it can be done?" he asked at last. "You said it's not unheard of, just rare."

"Yes, it can be done. With caution and with practice." Balin rested his mug on the chair beside him and took Rave's free hand in both of his. "But I'm not sure it can be done by you. Your power is very strong, young Rave. Perhaps strong enough to make you chieftain one day."

Rave had long known his power was greater than most, and this was not the first time Balin had talked about Rave someday becoming chieftain. But it was the first time the thought brought sadness and regret with it. He didn't know how he could give up Leesa.

"I shall delve into the scrolls and see what I can find," Balin said. "But you really should let her go before this goes any further." He stood up and paced a few steps, then turned back, his heart heavy. "I'm sorry, but if you love her, the best thing you can do for her is to leave her alone."

Rave buried his head in his hands. He knew Balin was right, that everything he had said was true. The closer Rave let himself get to Leesa, the more danger she would be in. The smart thing, the safe thing, would be to let her go. But he didn't know how. He lifted his head and looked solemnly at Balin.

"I don't know if I can do that," he said. "We have to think of something, Balin. We have to."

18. GOING ROGUE

The boy with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and headed toward the trees. His name was Robert, and he was a boy in appearance only, for he had been born almost sixty years before. But he was just fifteen, a sophomore in high school, when he was made vampire, and he had aged in appearance not at all. Keeping to the shadows, he glided swiftly through the trees. The morning sun was strong enough to burn—already his skin ached dully from his exposure climbing down the cliff face—and the shade from the leafy canopy provided welcome relief. Just as importantly, he needed to stay hidden, lest watchful eyes from the cavern discern his flight.

Robert was boyishly slim, with thin blond hair that fell across a corner of his face. Filled with youthful impetuousness, he was violating the Council's will by venturing out alone. The desire to feed had grown overwhelming, and he had not been vampire long enough to learn how to control his urges, not with the looming Destiratu fanning his need for blood. As long as he was not seen leaving, no one would be likely to notice his absence. He had waited for a bright sunny morning, when his brethren would be most lax about anyone going out, to make his break. Now that he was out, he hoped the blanket of gray clouds covering the western sky would soon block the sun. But even if it didn't, the chance to feed was worth the pain.

He wound his way south through the trees along the eastern shore of the Connecticut River, the opposite direction from his intended destination, before boarding the old Chester-Hadlyme Ferry, which had been carrying passengers and cars across the river since long before he was born. The big ferry took less than ten minutes to cross to Chester, but even so, he spent the crossing in the protective shade of the old boat's cabin. As soon as they docked, he scurried into the shadow of the nearest building. The gray cloud layer continued its eastward march across the sky. Soon clouds and sun would meet, and he would be able to move about more comfortably. Staying in the shadows as much as possible, he finally ducked into a covered walking bridge near an old mill that had been converted into a restaurant. The shade inside the wooden tunnel was blessedly cool, so he sat down on the wooden planks to await the clouds.

He didn't have long to wait. In less than thirty minutes, the daylight outside the bridge's entrance began to dim, growing progressively less bright as the clouds overran the sun. He moved to the end of the bridge and surveyed the sky. The cloud layer was thick, unbroken. Smiling, he stepped out from the bridge and began his journey north.

He could have hunted here in Chester, but he wasn't familiar with the town and thought it still too close to the cavern, despite the intervening river. His hometown of Middletown was but fifteen miles away. Middletown would be far safer, with plenty of places to hide nearby, and it offered a greater bounty of prey besides.

The land between Chester and Middletown was heavily wooded, with only a few small towns he easily avoided. He made good time, moving with vampire speed through the trees and reaching the outskirts of Middletown with an hour of gray daylight remaining. He stopped at a small cave in the hills overlooking the city that he remembered from his youth. Little more than a hole in a rocky outcropping in the hillside, the entrance was overgrown with brush and maple saplings, making it a perfect hideaway. The cave would serve as shelter from the sun for however long he decided to remain here. He didn't need much room—his time in the cave would be mostly spent sleeping.

But not yet. The late afternoon was comfortably dim, and he was too revved up to sleep. The excitement of his escape—and his anticipation for his first real feeding—sent a current of pulsating need through his body. Never had his hunger burned so fiercely.

And he knew just where to satisfy it. Less than a mile away, a campus full of careless young humans awaited him. He threaded his way through the trees down the hillside and before long was strolling across a broad lawn in front of the library. A steady stream of students flowed from the library's ornate front entrance, and the walkways crisscrossing the lawn also teemed with humans. All he had to do was get one alone for a few moments, somewhere no one could see. With his boyish appearance, he didn't expect that would be difficult.

Darkness descended quickly, but brought little slackening in the number of students in the library quadrangle. The walkways in front of the library were well lit, but the farther one moved from the library, the larger the pools of darkness became. Licking his lips in anticipation, he turned away from the library and headed into a darker area to await his prey.

Always keeping far enough back to avoid making a target nervous, he followed four different women before one finally turned down a short street toward a half-empty parking area. Robert's keen eyes swept the street. They were alone. This was his moment.

He sprang forward, closing the gap between them in a flash and wrapping his powerful arms around her before she even knew he was there. One hand covered her mouth to stifle her screams, while the other pinned her arms to her side as his fangs sank deep into her neck. As her warm blood gushed into his throat, he lifted her easily and carried her into a clump of thick shrubs to complete his meal. He drank greedily, stopping only when there was no more blood to drain. He smiled as he wiped his lips with his sleeve. This was so much better than the animal blood that had been his sustenance until now, so much more satisfying. This was what vampires were made for. And this was what he swore he would enjoy from this day forth.

He had no interest in turning his victim vampire, so he simply left her lifeless body among the bushes. At the last moment, he remembered his lessons—always hide the manner of death to avoid drawing attention to his kind. He took a short-bladed knife from the pouch at his waist and slashed a deep cut into the woman's neck, obliterating the puncture marks from his fangs. A puzzle for the pathetic humans—what had become of her blood? He grinned and disappeared into the night, his thirst slaked for now.

Two days later, he did it again, this time carrying the corpse off into the woods and burying it where it would never be found.

19. FIRST KISS

Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space—Leesa rubbed her forehead, trying to wrap her brain around that concept for her physics midterm. She had been studying hard all week, sleeping little and playing less, and felt confident she'd done well on her first three exams. Physics tomorrow would be the toughest by far, though. Her tired head was filled with symbols, equations and theories. Luckily, Professor Clerval didn't believe in exams—instead, he had assigned the class a paper that wasn't due until next week. So after her physics test, the crunch would be over—until finals, anyway. Ugh!

At least she wasn't alone in feeling stressed. Her dorm was filled with girls wandering the halls like zombies, wearing no makeup, their eyes bloodshot, vacant looks blanking their tired faces. Yellow light leaked under doors and soft music filtered through the walls at all hours of the night as many of her floor mates pulled all-nighters. Leesa had been up until the early hours twice already this week and would be putting in another late night tonight. It was nearly one o'clock now, and she still had two more chapters to review.

Even the usually effervescent Cali had been subdued this week, joking more than once she wished she had bought stock in Red Bull. Caffeine and herbs could do only so much, though, and Cali was showing the effects of the late hours. Leesa had tried her first Red Bull ever at the beginning of the week, and she was now downing a couple of cans a night. She was pretty sure some of the other girls were using something stronger than energy drinks and coffee, but Red Bull was more than enough for her.

On top of everything else, she hadn't seen Rave all week. Not that she would have had time for him, but he didn't know that, since they couldn't talk on the phone or text like normal people. So where the heck was he? He could have come by, even though she would have had to shoo him away. At least that would have been something. She wondered if he had gotten cold feet in addition to his cold hands.

The words on the page were beginning to blur, so she decided to take a short break. Standing up reminded her how long she'd been hunched over her desk—her spine creaked and protested like she was eighty frigging years old. She forced her shoulders back, trying to stretch the muscles in her upper back, then slowly rolled her neck in small circles. She needed to get out of her room, so she headed toward the stairway to see how Cali was doing.

Cali's door was open, and Leesa saw her friend sitting on the bed wearing her purple sweatpants and pink hoodie, a textbook on her lap and a notebook full of scribbled pages open beside her. Five empty cans of Red Bull tossed haphazardly off the side of her bed showed how long she had been studying.

Cali looked up at Leesa's arrival. A tired smile curved her lips. "Hey, Lees, c'mon in." She closed her book. "I could use a break."

Leesa stepped into the room as Cali unfolded herself from the bed, moving as stiffly as Leesa had a few minutes earlier. "I know the feeling," she said sympathetically as she watched Cali try to stretch out the kinks.

"This ain't like high school, huh?" Cali said.

Leesa shook her head. "Not even close."

"I was never up past midnight—not studying, anyhow," Cali said, grinning.

"And I never had a Red Bull until this week," Leesa said. "I guess new experiences are what college is all about."

"Yeah, but I'm liking some of those experiences better than others." Cali stifled a yawn. "Just one more day, and this experience will be over." Her face brightened. "Then we have the big Halloween party. That'll be fun."

"I hope so."

"Miss Enthusiasm strikes again," Cali teased. She grabbed Leesa's arm. "C'mon, let's take a walk around the dorm. Stretch out the kinks."

Leesa followed Cali into the empty hallway. It was fairly quiet. All the doors except Cali's were closed. The only music she could hear was soft and muted—studying music. No light peeked out from beneath Caitlin and Stacie's door, but most of the others glowed with the telltale yellow strip that said, "Yep, we're still up studying."

"Stacie's sleeping, lucky girl," Cali said. "She's some kind of braniac. Caitlin says she never studies past midnight. Still gets all A's and B's."

"And here we are, prowling the hallways at one o'clock, with more studying still to go," Leesa said, sighing. "What I wouldn't give to be in bed right now. What about Caitlin? Don't tell me she's sleeping, too."

"Nah, she's pulling an all-nighter at the library. Says if she stays here, it's too easy to get distracted or go to bed."

"Distracted like walking the halls?" Leesa said, laughing.

Cali smiled. "This is a break, not a distraction. There's a difference."

"Okay. As long as it's a break, let's take five more minutes, and then I have to get back to work."

Leesa closed her Blue Book and took what felt like her first real breath in almost two hours. A glance at the clock told her she still had five minutes left for the exam, but she was done—sooo done. She felt good about her performance, though, and was confident she had gotten at least a B. Definitely good enough for physics. All her studying had paid off. She had been up until four that morning, slept until eight, then snuck in some last minute cramming before the exam. Now she just wanted to go home, maybe take a nap.

She walked her booklet up to the front and dropped it on top of the few others already there. A couple of science geeks had been finished for a while, but most of her classmates were still frantically scribbling in their booklets as the final minutes ticked away. The professor, a preppy blond guy in his late thirties, nodded and gave her a small smile—her reward, she guessed, for finishing early. Leesa smiled back before turning and heading for the door.

The bright sunny day grew much brighter when she saw Rave smiling up at her from the bottom of the steps. He was wearing a black long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans. And those darn gloves, even though it wasn't all that cold. Seeing him here was the last thing she expected, and her fatigue seemed to melt away. She smiled back and limped quickly down the steps.

"Hi, gorgeous," he said. "How'd you do? Did you slay that physics monster?"

"I done good," Leesa said, smiling. "The monster's dead, at least for now. But how did you know what I was doing? I never told you about my midterms."

"I have my methods." Rave grinned and took both her hands in his. "Just because you don't see me doesn't mean I'm not around."

Leesa's smile widened. "Somehow, I believe that." She squeezed his hands. "And I like it, too. Though I prefer seeing you."

Rave's expression turned serious. "I need to talk to you. How about I take you to lunch?"

Leesa raised her eyebrows, feigning shock. "You mean almost like a real date?" She let her body go partially limp, held up only by his strong hands. "I may faint."

Rave laughed. "Yeah, like a real date. Almost," he mimicked. His face and voice turned serious. "After you hear what I have to say, you may not want any more dates, real or otherwise."

Leesa stared into his eyes, her mind racing. What could he possible say to make her not want to see him? Any thoughts of a nap disappeared.

"How about over at Clayton?" she suggested, naming the Student Center building. "It's the nearest place with food. Not great food, for sure, but food."

"As long as we can get some privacy, I don't really care about the food."

Privacy. Need to talk. May not want any more dates. What was going on here? Rave was being even more mysterious than usual. No way was she going any farther than Clayton before hearing what he had to say.

"Let's go, then." She let go of one of his hands, but kept a tight grip on the other as she led him around the corner toward the Student Center.

The dining hall was cavernous, furnished with plain, utilitarian plastic chairs and square wooden tables that could be pushed together to accommodate groups of any size. The rear wall was almost all glass and looked out onto a grassy courtyard. To the right was the cafeteria-style food service section, dominated by a long glass-covered counter stocked with sandwiches, salads, vegetables and side dishes. Behind the counter at the far end, a giant grill sizzled with hamburgers and hot dogs.

Leesa and Rave crossed to the food line, where Rave grabbed two red plastic trays and handed one to Leesa. The line was mercifully short and moved quickly, with most of the kids skipping past the salads and vegetables and heading right for the sandwiches, fries and burgers. The smell of grilled beef and fries beckoned them, even here at the far end of the counter.

Leesa also ignored the salads. She was too anxious to hear what Rave wanted to talk about to waste time picking out salad fixings. A burger and fries would do just fine, thank you.

Rave followed her lead, and a few minutes later they found a table in the far back corner that provided the privacy Rave wanted. The din of dozens of animated conversations still filled the space, but it was quieter here than at the more popular window tables. Hiding her impatience, Leesa squirted ketchup onto her fries and burger, and then offered the bottle to Rave, who shook his head.

At least he takes off his gloves to eat, she thought as she watched him pull them off and drop them onto the table. He picked up his burger in both hands and took a big bite, his dark eyes smiling at her over the top of the burger. It looked like she was going to have to wait a bit longer to hear what he had to say, so she went to work on her food. First some fries—underdone and soggy—then a bite of her burger. As usual, the meat was cooked to medium. Still, the burger wasn't bad. Not great by any stretch, but not bad.

Leesa found herself eating more quickly than usual and forced herself to slow down. Rave would get to what he wanted to say when he was ready. He asked a couple of questions about her midterms, but for the most part they concentrated on their food. When Rave put his burger down to eat some fries, Leesa thought she saw char marks on the bun. How had he managed to get a toasted bun? Hers was cold and doughy.

Finally, they were finished. Leesa still had more than half her fries left, but she'd had enough. Rave's plate was empty. She looked at him expectantly.

"Enjoying our date?" he asked playfully.

"Immensely. The cuisine was superb, the atmosphere enchanting, the service exceptional. Now, if I can get some delicious conversation for dessert, it'll be perfect."

Rave reached over and grabbed her plates, piling them atop his. He slid her empty tray beneath his and deposited them onto the adjacent table, clearing the space between them. He rested his forearms on the table.

"You wanted to know why I know so much about vampires," he began.

"Yeah," Leesa replied, surprised this was the subject he was so anxious to talk about.

"And you've probably been wondering why I kept my gloves on when I held your hand?"

"Um, yes, again." Leesa wondered at the juxtaposition of the two subjects. Please, please don't tell me you're a vampire, she thought. Her fingers began twirling in her hair.

Rave smiled. "I bet your friends gave you some grief about that."

"Yeah, they teased me some," she admitted, embarrassed that he'd guessed she had told her friends.

Rave leaned over the table until his face was mere inches from hers. "And you've probably wondered why I haven't kissed you yet, right?"

Leesa gulped, her heart racing. Her fingers twirled more vigorously. The whole room seemed to have gone quiet, but she knew that had to be her imagination. "Double yes. Triple yes."

Rave kept her fastened in his gaze for another moment before leaning back onto his chair. "The answer's complicated," he said finally. "And must remain a secret. But you deserve to know. Will you promise to tell no one?"

Leesa's brain was spinning. Complicated. Secret. Tell no one. Where on earth was he going with this? What did vampires have to do with holding hands and kissing? For some reason, her mother's wild story popped into her head. Not again, please, she prayed. She studied Rave's face. He didn't look crazy. He looked anxious, but determined. And damn handsome.

"Yeah, I promise."

Rave smiled. She could see some of the anxiety melt from his features.

"Do you believe in vampires, Leesa?"

Uh-oh, here we go, she thought. "Not completely. But more than when school started, that's for sure. Professor Clerval makes a compelling case. And you talk about them with such certainty."

"You're not alone. Most people don't believe they truly exist. But they do, I promise you. Have you ever heard of volkaanes?"

Leesa shook her head, frowning. "No, never. What's a volkaane?"

"Among other things, they are hunters of vampires."

Leesa thought back to Professor Clerval's discussion about why there weren't more vampires. Hunters. Helping keep the population in check. But he had never mentioned volkaanes. "What kind of creature can slay a vampire? They're supposed to be so strong, so fast, so dangerous."

"They are immensely strong, very fast, and very, very dangerous."

"And yet you say a volkaane can kill one." She tried to imagine what kind of creature could kill a vampire, and was suddenly struck by the thought that she was now accepting vampires as fact. "What do volkaanes look like?" she asked.

A wry smile played across Rave's lips. "They look a lot like me," he said.

It took a few seconds for his words to register. What was he saying? That he knew so much about vampires because he hunted them? Was he telling her he was a volkaane, whatever that meant? Was that why he was so sure Stefan was a vampire?

"Are you saying...?" Leesa's fingers busied themselves in her hair again.

Rave nodded. "Yes. I'm a volkaane."

"You kill vampires?" she asked, trying to wrap her head around all this. "How? Wooden stakes? Chopping off their heads? And what does that have to do with not holding my hand or kissing me?"

Rave put his hand out on the table, palm up. "Touch my hand, Leesa."

She hesitated, still not sure what was going on, then pulled her hand from her hair and reached across the table, stopping when it was a few inches above Rave's outstretched palm. Her fingers began to grow warm. She looked up at Rave's face.

"Go ahead," he said.

She lowered her hand slowly until her palm rested atop his. His skin was warm, almost hot. Rave let her control the moment, making no move to hold her hand.

She looked at him questioningly. "It's so warm."

Rave smiled. "That's why the gloves. I wasn't ready to explain the heat."

Leesa closed her fingers around his hand. His heat flowed into her, making her hand and arm tingle pleasantly. "I get it...I think. You would've had to tell me about being a volkaane." She grinned, remembering the charred marks on his bun. "I wish you'd told me before we ate. You could have toasted my bun."

Rave laughed, glad she wasn't freaking out about what he had just told her.

A sudden thought made Leesa blush. "Are your kisses as hot as your hands?" she asked.

Rave grinned. "Hotter." His expression turned serious. "And much more dangerous. It's how we slay vampires."

A puzzled frown creased Leesa's brow. "You kill them by kissing them?"

"In a way, yes." Rave brought her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. More heat surged through her, hotter this time. "Our fire draws the life breath from them—burns them from the inside out."

Leesa remembered Cali's story about the Mastons' deadly kiss. What if some of the other stories were true as well? Get a grip, she chided herself. This was Rave. He would never hurt her. "I guess your kisses give a whole new meaning to 'takes my breath away,'" she joked.

Rave laughed, and then turned serious. "This is the first time I ever wished that wasn't the case." He glanced around, making sure no one was looking, and then held his free hand close in front of his chest where only she could see it. "Watch."

Leesa stared at Rave's hand, not sure what she was supposed to see. Slowly, a pale blue glow began to envelop the ends of his fingers. She thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, but a moment later, tiny blue flames flickered from his fingertips. He let the flames dance for a few seconds before closing his fist. The flames disappeared.

"Our inner fire," he explained. "Remember when your phone died? You were holding my hand. That's why we don't use anything electrical."

"So if you kissed me...?"

"I'd have to be very, very careful. If I forgot myself for even a moment, it could kill you." He looked deeply into her eyes. "And I have a feeling that kissing you would make it far too easy to lose control."

Leesa's heart sank. What were they going to do? This was so not fair. She was so drawn to him, and knew now he felt the same way. How long could she go without kissing him, when all she wanted, even now, sitting here at the table holding his hand, was to lean across and press her lips to his? Damn his inner fire—what was she supposed to do, kiss him through an oven mitt? And if kissing was so dangerous, how would she ever be able to make love to him? She felt herself blushing at the thought.

"Isn't there any way?" she asked finally.

"There must be," he said, kissing her hand one more time before returning it to the table. "I've already started looking, asking. It's very rare, but volkaane and human have mixed before. I'll find a way, I promise."

"You'd better. I don't know how long I can last."

"Believe me, I feel the same way."

Leesa stood up, limped around the table and sat next to him. "What would happen if I kissed you quickly?" She scarcely believed the words were coming from her mouth. This was so not like her, to be this forward. But it was not like her to want to kiss someone this badly, either. "If I just brushed my lips against yours? Would that be safe?"

"Yeah. As long as I kept my mouth closed, you would be okay."

Leesa leaned closer. "Then you'd better keep it closed."

Rave swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am," he managed to say.

Leesa closed her eyes and pressed her lips lightly against Rave's, pulling away almost before touching him. Just that momentary contact sent waves of heat surging deliciously through her body. As lame as it sounded, she was sure she saw fireworks, too. She was glad she was sitting down—otherwise she felt certain her knees would have given way.

"Wow," Rave said, smiling.

Leesa returned his smile. "Double wow."

20. HALLOWEEN

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may," Cali said to Leesa.

"Carpe diem," added Caitlin.

"Life is short," chimed in Stacie.

Leesa sat on her bed, her back propped comfortably against two pillows, while her friends took turns trying to persuade her to wear something sexy and sleazy to tomorrow night's big Halloween bash. That she had even agreed to go to what was billed as the biggest and wildest party of the year was a big enough step for her. No way was she going to wear some slinky costume that would invite way more attention than she wanted or needed. Besides, there was only one guy whose attention she craved, and she already had Rave's full interest.

Cali had pulled the desk chair close to the bed—the better to pressure her, Leesa knew—while Caitlin hovered behind Cali's shoulder. At least Stacie had the consideration to sit across the room rather than loom over her, though that didn't stop her from urging Leesa to choose a sexy costume.

"C'mon, Lees," Cali continued. "This is the one night of the year even good girls get to dress slutty. What do you wanna wear, a gorilla suit or something?"

Caitlin and Stacie laughed, and Leesa found herself smiling. "Hmmm," she said, "that's not a bad idea. Know where I can get one cheap?"

Cali slapped at Leesa's feet, grinning. "Stop it! You are not going as any kind of animal, you got me? Unless it's a very sexy cat or something."

Leesa laughed. Cali was going as a dominatrix and had wanted Leesa to go as her slave, in a costume that was little more than a chrome-studded black leather collar and belt. With a leash, yet! Even Caitlin had turned down that offer, and she was going dressed as a hooker.

"Stacie's gonna be a nurse," Leesa protested. "So how come I have to wear something slutty?"

"You haven't seen her nurse's uniform," Caitlin said, smiling. "It's cut down to here and up to here." She pointed to a spot just above her naval and another just inches down her thigh.

Leesa looked across at Stacie, who shrugged and gave a "what the heck" expression. "How about I go as a pirate?" Leesa said, knowing there would probably be lots of pirates to blend in with at the party.

"A pirate might be okay," Cali said, "as long as I get to help with your costume. Just so I know there'll be at least a bit of wench factor."

"Okay—but I still get final say," Leesa said, grinning. "I'm not going to let you push my boobs up to here." She indicated the middle of her neck with the side of her hand.

"Good call, Leesa," Stacie said, chuckling. "Cali's idea of a pirate wench might not be all that far from the sex slave outfit."

They all laughed.

"Oh, c'mon, you know I'm much more subtle than that," Cali said, bringing another round of laughter.

"What's Andy wearing?" Leesa asked.

"I'm not sure," Cali deadpanned, "but it might involve a collar and a leash."

The ensuing laughter was the loudest and longest yet. Caitlin plopped down on the bed beside Leesa, laughing too hard to stay standing.

"Is Rave going?" Stacie asked when they all stopped laughing.

Leesa smiled. "He said he'd see me there. I don't know what he's gonna be wearing, though."

"Gloves, I bet," Cali said, triggering yet another round of boisterous laughter.

Leesa felt herself blushing, but could not help joining in the laughter. She wondered how they would react if they knew why he had worn the gloves, but of course she couldn't tell them. She hadn't told them about the kiss, either, because that would lead to too many questions. "What do you think some of the most popular guy costumes will be?" she asked, diverting the subject away from Rave.

"Pirates again, like last year, probably," Cali said. "You should have lots of company, Leesa."

Which was exactly the plan, Leesa thought, but of course she didn't say anything.

"Vampires, I bet," Caitlin said. "And zombies. They're definitely the thing this year."

"Even with that girl getting killed on campus the other night?" Stacie asked. "I heard all the blood was drained from her body."

Leesa stiffened. She hadn't heard that part of it. Rave said vampires were real, and she believed him, especially after his little fire display. Was there a vampire on campus? Of course there was, she realized—Stefan. Rave was certain Stefan was a vampire, and if everything he had said was true, he would know. But Leesa could not believe Stefan could do such a thing. She was going to have to talk to Rave about this.

"I bet that's just a story someone started cuz it happened so close to Halloween," Cali said. "Trying to make the whole thing scarier. The news said her throat was slashed, not bitten."

"Either way, you know how guys are," Caitlin said. "There'll probably be more vampires now because of that."

"And probably some girls with fake bite marks on their necks, too," Stacie said, shaking her head.

"No doubt," Cali agreed, getting up and moving toward Leesa's closet. "C'mon, Leesa, let's see what you've got in here that we can start turning into a pirate costume."

"I've got some gold hoops and a red bandana that should help," Caitlin offered. "I don't think any of my push-up bras will fit, though." She hefted her full breasts and laughed.

Leesa blushed, but joined the others in their laughter.

"Don't worry, Lees, you've got plenty up there to make sexy," Cali said. "And I think I have just the bra for it."

"Oh, great," Leesa said, grinning. "I can't wait."

There were a quite a few Halloween parties on campus, but the biggest by far was being held in the old facilities warehouse, which boasted the largest indoor space on campus. The Borderlines had joined with two other fraternities to host the bash. Andy had provided passes that allowed the girls to avoid the long line of costumed students at the front entrance and enter instead through a side door manned by a trio of Borderlines. One was a tall, muscular guy showing off his physique with a leopard skin loincloth; the other two were dressed as a pirate and a vampire, verifying Cali and Caitlin's prediction about popular costumes. The guys checked the girls' passes and marked their hands with a black skull and crossbones stamp without bothering to ask for any proof of age.

The doorway let them into a small meeting room open only to fraternity members and their guests. The room was cluttered with coats and sweatshirts piled atop tables and hanging from metal hooks. Music from the band in the main room filtered in through the cement walls. Leesa and her friends wasted no time peeling off the sweatshirts they wore over their skimpy costumes and hanging them on a couple of empty hooks.

"Look out, guys," Cali cooed. "The hotties have arrived."

Leesa's pirate outfit consisted of a white button shirt tied in a knot just below her breasts to bare her abs, a pair of black shorts, and loose, knee-high black suede boots Cali had found at the local Goodwill store. Caitlin's gold hoop earring dangled from Leesa's left ear and her red bandana covered the top of Leesa's head. A curved plastic sword hung from a black sash around her waist. The two highlights of the costume were both Cali's idea. The first was one of her bras, which as promised, pushed Leesa's breasts up into an enticing amount of cleavage. The second was to cut a jagged slash into Leesa's right boot and to cover the suede and Leesa's leg with red nail polish, simulating a bloody wound to explain her limp. Leesa had been a good sport and gone along with only a minimum of protest, secretly hoping the bloody boot might draw some attention away from her pushed-up breasts.

Cali's dominatrix outfit was far more provocative, which was fine with Leesa. The costume centered on a tight black leather corset covering so little of Cali's breasts that the tops of her rouged areolas peeked out above it. Leesa was afraid to ask whether the corset had been purchased for the occasion or was part of her friend's regular wardrobe. Dark red fishnet stockings extended from the bottom of the corset into a pair of ankle-high black boots with four-inch stiletto heels. Cali's eyes were painted heavily with purple eye shadow, and her lips were covered with dark red lipstick matching her stockings. In her right hand, she carried a leather riding crop, which she suggestively tapped against her thigh every few minutes.

Caitlin made an especially slutty hooker in a tight gold lamé top worn with black leather hot pants. Gold lace garters held up black fishnets at mid thigh. Her black eye shadow—even thicker than Cali's—was flecked with gold sparkles, and her lips were painted a bright, garish red. Stacie wore a white nurse's shirt unbuttoned almost to her waist and white shorts hemmed so high they were barely wider than a belt. White tights covered her slender legs, and a pair of white sneakers and a small white cap pinned demurely atop her head completed the outfit. She looked virginal and dirty at the same time.

The girls used the privacy of the room to do some last minute primping and to make sure their costumes covered—and didn't cover—their bodies exactly the way they wanted. When they all passed one another's inspections, they left the room and crossed the hallway into the party.

Much time and effort had gone into decorating the place. Black and orange sheets covered most of the windows and the walls, and giant cobwebs festooned with skeletons, headless corpses and hairy black spiders dangled from the high ceiling. Huge orange pumpkins with scary faces were painted on the black sheets; black pumpkins with equally frightening expressions adorned the orange ones. A five-man rock band in the front of the huge room was pounding out Oingo Boingo's "Dead Man's Party" as the girls entered, the first of several times they would play the popular Halloween anthem. A couple hundred costumed students already filled the place, but there was room for many more. In front of the band, dozens of kids danced wildly to the raucous music. The back of the room, where four long tables served as a bar, was almost as crowded. The center was less packed, but there were still plenty of kids milling about.

The variety of costumes amazed Leesa. She saw at least a half-dozen vampires and pirates, a couple of cavemen, and assorted devils, hookers, black cats, French maids, princesses and serving wenches. One vampire, already surrounded by a cluster of fawning girls, looked amazingly like Eric from True Blood. Leesa was pretty sure he would not be going home alone tonight.

As Cali had promised, the majority of costumes flaunted the wearer's body in one way or another. The whole place oozed sexuality. Carpe diem. If you got it, flaunt it. Leesa felt her self-consciousness beginning to melt away. Her costume was pretty tame by comparison, yet she still looked darn good.

What she didn't see in the crowd was any sign of Rave, unless he was wearing a costume with a mask, which she doubted. He was much too cute for a mask—and way too careful and aware of his surroundings to let a mask blunt his perceptions. She wondered what he would be wearing. She hoped she'd find out soon.

Before the girls made it even ten feet into the room, they were stopped by a trio of guys—a vampire wearing a black cape and plastic fangs, a bearded pirate wielding a cutlass, and a guy in a powder blue tuxedo that looked like something from a very bad wedding. The guys made no attempt to hide their appreciative stares.

"Hello, gorgeous ladies," the vampire drawled through his fangs. "Anyone up for a bite?"

Leesa stifled a groan. Anyone smart enough to get into Weston should be able to come up with a better line than that.

"If you're up for a spanking," Cali countered, slapping her crop on her palm.

Tuxedo guy and the pirate laughed, while the vampire gave Cali an even closer look. "That might be fun," he said, his eyes lingering on her leather-covered torso.

The pirate moved closer to Leesa. "Methinks you and me make a pretty good pair," he said. "What say you we do a bit o' burning and pillaging together?"

"Don't get your hopes up, boys," Caitlin interrupted. "They're both spoken for." She thrust out her hip and rested her hand on it in a very suggestive posture. "But I'm not."

Tuxedo guy swept forward. "How about a dance, then?"

"Sure," Caitlin replied. She pulled her stilettos from her feet. "Let's go." She strode toward the dance area, giving her butt an extra wiggle as she walked. Tuxedo guy hurried after her.

"What about you?" the pirate asked Stacie. "Wanna dance?"

"Why not? Catch you guys later," she said to Leesa and Cali, then took the pirate's arm and followed Caitlin and tuxedo guy toward the front.

"Looks like you're odd man out," Cali said to the vampire. "But don't worry. I'm sure there's a neck out there somewhere with your name on it." She turned to Leesa. "I'm thirsty. Let's get a drink. Then we can try to find our men. Andy's definitely here somewhere. Who knows about Rave."

"Okay." Leesa replied. "Nice to meet you," she said to the vampire. "Good hunting."

She and Cali threaded their way toward the bar, drawing lots of looks, but managing to make it across the room without being stopped. One guy in a clown costume tried to engage them, moving smoothly into their path and pointing down at Leesa's foot.

"Hey, great wound," he said. "Cut yourself shaving?" He doubled over, guffawing in exaggerated clown laughter at his joke.

While he was bent over, Leesa and Cali swerved around him and continued toward the bar. As they picked their way through the throngs of people, Leesa scanned the crowd for Rave, but there were too many people in too many costumes. She finally gave up. Rave had a knack for finding her—she was certain he would do so again.

The closer she and Cali got to the bar, the thicker the crowd grew. They inched their way to the far right end, which was reserved for guests with skull stamps, and had a line only a third as long as the others.

"It's definitely not what you know, but who you know," Cali said with a grin as she and Leesa moved to the shorter line and fell into place behind guy in a foam bodybuilder costume.

"Well, I'm sure glad I know you," Leesa said. "The girl with connections."

In just a few moments, they reached the front of the line. The bartender, who Cali had met once before at Andy's fraternity, was dressed as a pirate. He wore a billowing white shirt, baggy black pants, and knee-high black leather boots. A black tri-cornered hat slanted rakishly above his unshaven face, and a stuffed green and yellow parrot perched on his shoulder. He nodded approvingly at Leesa's outfit.

"Hi, Frank," Cali said. "This is my friend Leesa."

"Nice to meet you." He took Leesa's extended hand and brought it to his lips. "What can I get for you lovely lasses?"

Leesa asked for a Diet Pepsi and Cali ordered a rum and Coke, which Frank mixed quickly in a clear plastic cup.

"Arrrrrrrrgh," he said in a pirate brogue as he dropped a wedge of lime into the drink. "A lass after me own heart." He lifted the bottle of Captain Morgan in front of his lips and started singing in a gruff voice. "Fifteen men on the dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum."

"Don't quit your day job, Frank," Cali advised with a grin. "You seen Andy around?"

"That lucky devil was here a few minutes ago. He should be back soon—he doesn't usually stray from the bar for long, even if he's not bartending." His eyes roamed slowly up and down Cali's costume. "How come you didn't make him dress as your slave?"

"I tried, believe me," Cali laughed. "He wasn't having it. Maybe after the party, in private," she added with a wink.

"You should have seen the outfit she had ready," Leesa said. "She tried to get me to wear it, but I wouldn't wear that thing even if I was alone in my room."

Frank gave Leesa the same appraisal he had given Cali. "Now that I would pay to see."

Leesa felt herself beginning to blush and fought to keep her hand from her hair.

"Can a guy get a drink around here without all this chitchat?" a voice complained from behind them.

They turned to see Andy's grinning face. The double meaning of Frank's "lucky devil" comment was clear. Andy was dressed as a devil, complete with red face paint, rubber pitchfork and long red tail. The tight costume showed off his trim physique nicely.

"Wow, you look great," he said to Cali, giving her a quick once-over before pulling her into his arms for a warm hug. "You, too, Leesa," he added when he let go of Cali. "Very sexy."

"Thanks, Andy," Leesa said. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Andy took a sip of Cali's drink. "Mmmm, rum and Coke. I'll have what she's having, Frank."

Frank mixed another drink and then deftly topped off Cali's with a splash of rum and some more Coke. "No sense leaving the bar without a full glass," he said.

Armed with their drinks, Leesa, Cali and Andy edged away from the bar to give the people behind them a chance.

"Did you two hear that another girl is missing?" Andy asked.

Leesa and Cali looked at each other. This was news to them.

"No, we didn't," Cali said.

"When?" Leesa asked. "What happened?"

"It was part of the security briefing we get before every party," Andy said. "Some sophomore from Shelley Hall didn't come home last night. Her roommates haven't heard from her."

"Maybe she hooked up with somebody and decided to spend the day with him," Cali offered.

Andy shook his head. "Her roommates said that wouldn't be like her. And she was supposed to meet her mom for lunch today. Never showed, never called."

Leesa mind began racing. Could there really be a vampire behind these things? Strange as it seemed, she found herself hoping it was just your everyday psycho killer. How weird was that? she thought.

"They're gonna try to get the word out tonight and tomorrow for everyone to be extra careful," Andy continued. "We're gonna make an announcement here when the band takes its next break. Remind everyone not to walk home alone, to call for an escort if they don't have someone to go with, that sort of thing. There'll be extra security patrols out every night, too."

"This is terrible," Leesa said. "I hope she's okay." That didn't seem likely, though.

"You have a boyfriend coming tonight, don't you, Leesa?" Andy asked.

"I hope so," Leesa said. "I haven't seen him yet."

"If he doesn't show, Cali and I will walk you home."

"He's probably outside stuck in line with the unconnected masses," Cali said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Should we go take a look?" Andy asked.

"No, no," Leesa said, certain Rave wouldn't want any extra attention drawn his way. "He'll find his way in, don't worry."

21. SLOW DANCING

A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings human in name only filled the huge room. Rave shook his head as he scanned the jumble of costumed students, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He had mingled with groups of humans before, but never one so large or so boisterous. This was not his first new experience with humans since he'd met Leesa, he thought, smiling as he recalled their brief kiss. And he was pretty certain it wouldn't be his last.

More than a hundred students were dancing to the beat of the classic "Monster Mash," a song he had heard many times over the years. He liked the offbeat lyrics and rhythm, and found himself humming as he squeezed his way along the wall past the dance area. He had avoided the long lines out front by finding an unattended door in the back. The lock had provided little resistance—he simply ripped the door open and slipped inside, the noise covered by the pounding music. Once inside, he used his heat to weld the metal lock back together.

To blend in with the costumed students, he had borrowed one of Balin's buckskin outfits. His usual moccasin-style shoes, a pair of buckskin gloves cut off at the fingertips, and a long brown and white eagle feather stuck in a braided headband completed the look. His bronzed complexion only enhanced the effect.

He spotted Leesa near the bar, talking to a guy in a devil costume and a very skimpily dressed girl he recognized as her friend Cali. Leesa looked very sexy in her pirate costume. As always, his inner heat rose a couple of degrees at the sight of her.

Rave had yet to meet Cali, although he had seen her several times with Leesa when he'd been watching her. And Leesa had talked a lot about Cali on their walks. The time had come for him to cease being a phantom boyfriend—for tonight at least. He slowed his pace and approached the three humans. He wasn't surprised when Leesa was the first to look his way. Her face brightened with a broad smile when she saw him.

He looks amazing, Leesa thought as Rave glided toward her. And those buckskin clothes fit his muscular frame quite nicely, thank you. He even moved like a real Indian, or at least her image of how an Indian moved, formed by movies she and Bradley had watched on television when she was a kid.

As if he could read her thoughts, Rave raised his right palm and grunted, "How."

She laughed and put her hands on his waist, raising herself onto her toes to kiss his cheek. As soon as her lips touched his skin, the familiar warm tingling shot through her. She let her lips linger there a moment longer than she had intended, then grabbed his left arm in both hands, squeezing his forearm as she introduced him to her friends.

"Hi, Rave," Cali said, extending her hand. If she noticed his buckskin gloves, she didn't show it.

"Hi, Cali. I've heard a lot about you."

"Leesa's mentioned you once or twice, too," Cali replied with a grin. "At least, I think you're the guy she's always talking about."

Rave laughed and shook Andy's hand. "Nice to meet you, Andy."

"You, too," Andy said. He ran his fingers across the smooth buckskin covering Rave's arm. "Great outfit," he said. "Looks real."

"It's real buckskin, if that's what you mean," Rave said. "A friend of mine makes them, seldom wears anything else. I borrowed it for the occasion."

"Cali's from your neighborhood, Rave," Leesa said, still clinging to Rave's arm. "East Hamptom."

"Uh-oh," Rave said, smiling and turning toward Cali. "I bet you warned Leesa to keep away from me, huh?"

Cali returned his grin. "Only if you call telling her stories about strange noises, blue fires and human sacrifices warnings. Other than that, I said go for it."

Everyone laughed.

"Now that your escort has arrived," Cali said to Leesa, "I'm gonna take this little devil onto the dance floor." She grabbed Andy's arm. "You guys wanna come?"

Leesa looked to Rave and was glad to see him shake his head. With her leg, dancing had never been her thing. "We'll pass," she said. "You guys have fun."

Cali was already swaying to the music. "We will. Catch you two later."

"She's pretty funny," Rave said as Cali and Andy began weaving their way toward the dance area. "I can see why you like her."

"I'm glad you like her. I was worried whether you two would get along."

Rave laid his hand on top of hers. "For you, I'd try to get along with a vampire if you wanted me to. Not that I'm comparing Cali to a vampire," he added quickly.

"Ha! Don't worry. I know what you meant. But speaking of vampires, there's a couple things I need to talk to you about."

Rave raised his eyebrows. "Oh? I was thinking you'd want to talk about volkaanes or kissing."

Leesa gave his arm a quick squeeze. "That too," she said, smiling. "We have lots to talk about."

"Do you mind that I'm not much into dancing?" Rave asked.

"Are you kidding? I'm glad." She held her red-stained boot off the floor. "Kinda hard to be much of a dancer with this leg."

The band began playing the first slow chords of Coldplay's "Yellow," a song Leesa really liked.

"Dancing to this might be fun, though," Rave said, swaying gently to the rhythm and gazing into her eyes.

Leesa felt herself melting under his gaze. She had never liked a guy nearly enough to want to slow dance with him, but looking at Rave's handsome face and the firm muscles outlined by his tight buckskin outfit, she suddenly couldn't think of anything she wanted more.

"Are you asking me to dance, Mr. Maston?" she asked flirtatiously.

Rave held his arms open wide. "I believe I am, Miss Nyland."

Leesa slipped into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist. He leaned his head against hers and they began moving to the music.

Rave's volkaane heat flowed into her, flooding her body with a delicious, almost indescribable warmth, as if someone had opened her veins and replaced her blood with sweet, warm syrup. She would not have been surprised one bit if her skin was glowing from the magical heat inside her. Cocooned in Rave's embrace, she began to feel like she was floating, weightless, in some transcendent place, up among the stars, perhaps. Yet at the same time, she felt more solidly grounded and supported than ever in her life. She was certain she could feel Rave's heart beating against her chest—or was that merely her own heart thumping?

This was not just dancing; this was a joining, a commingling of body and spirit. She had never felt anything remotely like this, had never even imagined this kind of feeling. She thought it might be even better than their brief kiss, though it was hard to compare sensationally wonderful to exquisitely delicious. Except for the music, the room seemed to have gone silent, as if she and Rave were alone in their own little world, the music playing solely for them. The song seemed to last for hours, yet somehow ended all too soon. Evidently, Rave felt something similar, because he kept swaying with her after the music stopped.

"Wow," Rave said when he finally eased his body away from hers. He kept his arms draped over her shoulders and stared down into her upturned face. "I think I've just become a big fan of dancing."

"Mmmmm, me too," Leesa sighed. "Slow dancing, at least." Even the band's launching into a pounding rendition of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" couldn't break the moment. "I hope they have another slow song in their repertoire."

Rave kissed her lightly on the forehead, and his warmth tingled into her again. She wondered if she would ever tire of the feeling, but very much doubted it.

"If they don't, we can always ask them to play that one again," he said. "You said you had some things you wanted to talk about. Want to go outside for a few minutes?"

"Sure," Leesa said. She dropped her arms from around his waist, but immediately grabbed his hand. "We can go out the side way. It's a lot less crowded."

Rave pulled her gently toward the rear of the building instead. "I've got an even better way. One reserved especially for volkaanes."

As Rave led her through the narrow space between the dancers and the wall, Leesa spotted Cali and Andy gyrating enthusiastically to the music. She looked for Caitlin and Stacie, but there were too many people bouncing about. Wherever they were, she was pretty sure they were having a good time.

Rave guided her out into the hallway to the door he had come in through. Placing his palms flat against the metal door, he gave a quick thrust. The welded lock ripped open and the cold night air washed over them. He smiled at Leesa. "My private exit," he said.

They stepped out into the night. The grounds behind the building were dark. A gauzy film of high clouds turned the full moon into a pale disk. A bit of light filtered through the sheet-covered windows, and a row of streetlights a hundred yards away added some meager illumination. Leesa could hear talking and laughter from the crowd in front of the building, as well as music from inside, but no kids had made it around to the back.

A cold breeze raised goose bumps on her arms. Sensing her discomfort, Rave took off his jacket and draped it across her shoulders. The buckskin, warmed by his volkaane heat, melted the chill from her body almost immediately.

She leaned against him and playfully squeezed his bicep. "I'm impressed," she said, looking back at the broken lock. "You're stronger than you look. Could a vampire do that?" she teased.

Rave's expression turned serious. "With one hand," he said. "Their strength is double mine."

Leesa did not like hearing that. "But your inner fire is enough to overcome it?"

"That, and this."

Leesa barely saw him move, but suddenly he was standing fifteen feet away on a patch of weed-dotted broken asphalt, grinning. In a flash, he was back beside her. She swore she felt the breeze from his movement on her cheek. All she could say was, "Wow!"

"Our fire and speed against their strength and fangs," Rave said. "Surprise is usually the deciding factor. Quickness lends itself to surprise. But I never take a vampire lightly."

"Did you hear about the girl who was killed a few days ago?" Leesa asked.

Rave nodded. "Yeah. I heard her throat was cut. Why?"

"The story's going around that the blood was drained from her body."

A grim look tightened Rave's face. "I hadn't heard that."

"I don't know if it's true, or just a story some jerk started because it's Halloween. But another girl went missing last night."

Rave was surprised—and worried. If it was the work of vampires, this was bad. Vampires didn't usually make two kills in the same place, so close together. Either the Destiratu was affecting them more powerfully than he thought, or there was a rogue in the area, driven by the bloodlust more strongly than its brethren.

"Do you think a vampire could be doing it?" Leesa asked.

"If the girl's blood was drained, then almost certainly. Is there some way we can find out for sure?"

Leesa thought about it for a moment. "Maybe Andy can. He's already met with the campus cops about security. He might be able to find out. You don't think it's Stefan, do you?"

A vampire as powerful as Stefan would not be so affected yet, Rave knew. Nor would he be so foolish. "No, I don't," he said. "But that doesn't make him any less dangerous. Have you seen him recently?"

"Not since we talked about it."

"Good. Try to keep it that way. After I get you home, I'll do a little hunting and see what I can find."

Leesa wasn't certain she liked the idea of his hunting a killer vampire, but then chided herself over the oxymoron. Was there any other kind? Yes, she realized—the one-fanged kind.

"You'll be careful?" she said, taking his hand.

Rave squeezed her hand. "Always."

Now that one-fanged vampires had entered her mind, she decided to ask Rave about them. He knew so much about vampires, maybe he would know something about the one-fangs as well.

"Do you know anything about one-fanged vampires?"

"Grafhym? Sure." He studied her face. "But I'm surprised you do. Where'd you hear about them?"

Leesa smiled wistfully. "It's a long story."

Rave grabbed her other hand. "I've got time," he said. "Want to sit?" He nodded toward a low cinder block wall bordering the asphalt area behind the building.

"Yeah, let's." She limped across to the waist-high wall and sat down. Rave sat close beside her. The jacket plus his heat kept her plenty warm.

For the second time in little more than a week, Leesa told the story of her mom's encounter with the one-fanged vampire and her gradual withdrawal from the outside world and from her family. She was surprised when Rave's expression turned from curiosity to what looked like jealousy, before finally settling on concern and compassion.

"I never knew my mother," Rave said. "So I can only imagine how sad and confusing that must have been for you."

So it had been jealousy she'd seen on Rave's face. It was hard to imagine anyone being jealous of her mom. "What happened to your mom?" she asked.

Rave swiveled around to face her, pulling his feet up onto the wall and balancing easily with his arms around his knees. He didn't look at all upset.

"My people do things differently from yours," he explained. "We don't have families. We don't have parents."

Leesa frowned. "I don't get it. How can you not have a mother and a father? What do you volkaanes do, spring full grown from a cocoon or something?"

Rave chuckled. "No, nothing quite so exotic. But we don't marry, and we don't live as couples. Children are raised communally. I'll tell you as much as you want to know about it later. But let's get back to your mom and the grafhym."

Leesa's head was filled with questions about Rave's childhood, and it took her a moment to remember where she had left off with her story. "Professor Clerval thinks there's a chance my mom's story might actually be true. In so many ways, I hope it is. That would be way better than believing my mom is mentally ill."

"Professor Clerval knows a lot about vampires," Rave mused. "More than I would have guessed."

"His office is filled with books and old manuscripts. He read to me from one that was two hundred years old, written in Italian, no less. Supposedly by a female vampire."

"What he told you fits with what I know about grafhym," Rave said. "They're rare, and my people don't hunt them, so I'm no expert. But it sounds like your mother's story could be true. Whether the other stuff is real, I can't say. Maybe the sun does hurt her skin, maybe not." He smiled. "I'm a little skeptical about the tomato juice, though."

"Yeah, I know. That always seemed the silliest part of the whole weird thing."

"Maybe some of her behavior is the result of being bitten by a grafhym, and some is simply her mind's reaction to it," Rave said. "I just don't know."

"But you think there could be a grafhym in Sleeping Giant Park?"

"Sure, why not? It's a big park. I'm sure a one-fang could find plenty of places to hide." Rave dropped his feet from wall and slid closer. "Want me to find it for you?"

Leesa's eyes flashed open wide. "Could you find it? Would you do that for me?"

Rave slipped off the wall and pulled Leesa into his arms. "I told you, there's very little I wouldn't do for you, Leesa."

Leesa sighed. She had never felt so loved, so protected. It was wonderful. She pressed her head against his shoulder, relishing his warmth and his strength.

"So, about that kissing stuff?" she said when she finally pulled her head off his shoulder and looked into his face.

Rave's face broke into a wide smile. "I was hoping you hadn't forgotten about that." He rested his forearms on her shoulders and clasped his hands behind her neck. "There's been a bit of progress on the kissing front."

Leesa was delighted to hear that. "Really? Tell me."

"Don't get too carried away. It's still dangerous, and we have to be careful. But..." his voice trailed off, teasing her.

Leesa playfully pounded her fists against his chest. "What? What?"

"I've been doing some special breathing exercises my friend Balin showed me. So we should be good for five seconds or so."

Five seconds sounded disappointingly quick to Leesa, until she realized it was more than five times as long as their first kiss. And she certainly remembered how amazing that was. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Patience, sweetheart. I said we have to be careful. Balin suggested we'd be safest if we kissed with someone there to pull us apart, in case we both lost control."

Leesa frowned. She wanted to kiss him right now—and she didn't want anyone watching! "I guess we could get Cali. I'm sure she would love to watch. But she might let us go longer than we told her to, just cuz she's Cali. Stacie would be a safer choice, I think."

"I'm not sure how we'd explain it, anyway," Rave said. "We can't tell them my kiss could kill you." His face brightened. "Do you have your phone with you?"

Leesa patted the pocket of her shorts. "Yeah. Why?"

"Does it have an alarm?"

"Yeah...."

She smiled as Rave explained his idea, finishing by reminding her not to be touching him when she switched her phone on. Just to be safe, she moved another step back before setting the cell's alarm to go off in one minute and placing the phone atop the wall. She waited while the seconds ticked off. It seemed to take forever, but finally there were only five seconds left. She moved into his arms and pressed her mouth to his.

The feeling of warmth that exploded into her as their tongues connected was beyond imagining. She felt like she was flying, like a thousand tiny mouths were kissing every inch of her body, like her skin was wrapped in the most delicious chocolate and every pore could taste it. Way, way, way too soon, her phone's alarm beeped, and she felt Rave's lips pulling away from hers. Sighing, she collapsed into his arms.

They held their silent embrace for several long moments before Rave spoke. "Triple wow," he said.

Unable to speak, Leesa replied with a long "mmmmm" as she remained nestled against his chest. Finally, she pulled her head back and looked up at him.

"Did you have much trouble controlling it?" she asked, still a bit breathless.

Rave smiled. "A little," he admitted. "I'm glad we had the alarm. I'm going to keep working on those control exercises, that's for sure."

Leesa grinned wickedly. "You'd better, mister. I'm not sure I want you spending your time doing anything else."

Rave laughed. "What about the grafhym?"

Leesa pursed her lips. "Oh yeah, that too." Her face brightened. "You can practice the exercises while you're looking for it," she joked. She grabbed his hand and led him back toward the building. "Let's get back to the party. Maybe they'll play another slow song."

22. RING AROUND THE MOON

"Once upon a midnight dreary...while I pondered...weak and weary," intoned the tall young man standing behind the lead singer's microphone. He was wearing a Friday the 13th Jason mask and carrying a bloodstained machete that looked awfully real. His voice was deep and dramatic, and the room grew steadily quieter as he boomed out his lines, reading from a piece of paper. "While I nodded...nearly napping...suddenly, there came a tapping...as of someone gently rapping...rapping at my chamber door."

He certainly knows how to get a room's attention, Leesa thought as she held Rave's hand and listened along with almost everyone else in the place as he introduced himself as Butch Morrison, president of the BPDs.

"That rapping is not Snoop Dog or Lil' Wayne, either," he continued, pausing while a ripple of laughter flowed through the room. "Campus Security has asked me to share a few words with you." He looked back at his notes and read a few sentences about the unfortunate girl who was killed and the one who was missing, emphasizing the importance of everyone being as safe as they could—not walking alone at night, not letting strangers into the dorms, not opening their room doors until they were sure who was there. He reminded them of the escort service available for anyone who needed someone to walk them home simply by calling Security, whose number he provided.

"So remember," he said, dropping his voice into a melodramatic tone once more, "if you hear a tapping...a gentle rapping at your chamber door, use the peephole to make sure you know who's there before you open it."

The room filled with the buzz of conversation as he walked away from the microphone. Most of the kids had already known about the murder, but the second missing girl was news to many of them. Even the ones who had known about both were impressed by the seriousness of his tone.

"That won't be enough," Rave said. "Not even if the killer is human, but especially if there's a thirsty vampire out there. There's always someone foolish enough to ignore such warnings." He squeezed Leesa's hand. "But I know one girl who's definitely getting home safely tonight."

A warm feeling that had nothing to do with Rave's fire flowed through Leesa's body. With Rave by her side, she felt totally secure and protected, no matter what was out there, and she was certain nothing bad would ever happen to her as long as he was around. But the thought of a vampire preying on her schoolmates was terrifying.

"Can you do anything about this?" she asked. "Scare it away or something?" She knew it was foolish, but she preferred to think of Rave chasing the vampire away rather than fighting it.

"I can try. But it's a big campus. If I had known before I came, I would have brought a few of my brethren along." He grinned. "For one of the very few times, I wish my people used phones."

Leesa returned his smile, but didn't say anything. Instead, she studied his face for a few moments. She was pretty sure she knew what he was thinking. "You won't hunt him as long as I'm here at the party, will you?" she said at last. "Even if I promise to stay inside with my friends?"

Rave shook his head. "I'd rather know you're home safe in your room. Too many things can happen here. I can't be distracted worrying about you when I hunt."

"Then take me home so you can get started. I've had enough partying anyhow." She grinned and pecked him on the cheek. "I already slow danced and got kissed. What more could a girl want?"

Rave pulled her into his arms. "Or a guy," he said softly into her ear.

They threaded their way through the costumed crowd until they found each of Leesa's friends. Cali and Andy were hanging near the bar—no surprise there, Leesa thought. Caitlin and Stacie were talking with pirate and tuxedo man—Danny and Jeremy were their names, she learned—near the front of the room. She told her friends she wasn't feeling well so Rave was taking her home, admonishing them to be careful and not go anywhere alone. Andy assured her he would get Cali home, along with Caitlin and Stacie if they wanted to leave at the same time. Caitlin and Stacie promised they would either have Danny and Jeremy bring them home, producing wide grins on both boys' faces, or they'd get an escort.

Satisfied her friends would be okay, Leesa led Rave toward the back of the building. "Let's use your private exit," she said. "We can cut across the grounds to my dorm."

Outside, the temperature had dropped another few degrees and the wind had stiffened, making it feel even colder. Rave gave her his jacket again and put his arm around her as they crossed the broken asphalt toward the cinder block wall they'd sat on earlier.

Leesa glanced up into the sky and suddenly stopped walking. "Wow, look at the moon."

The high clouds that had shrouded the moon earlier had dissipated, leaving a golden moon surrounded by a glowing halo four times its size. Leesa had seen halos around the moon before and knew they had something to do with ice crystals high in the atmosphere, but she had never seen one like this. It seemed twice as big as any she could remember, and brighter too, striped with faint rainbow colors. The whole thing seemed almost to pulse with energy.

"It's beautiful," Rave said. "Someday, I'll take you far enough north for you to see the aurora borealis. You'll love it."

Leesa had seen pictures of the phenomenon and knew it was spectacular. But it wasn't the thought of seeing the amazing display of lights in person that set her heart beating faster—it was the word "someday." She loved that Rave was thinking of them being together far into the future.

"I know I will. Of course, I'll love anywhere I get to go with you."

They resumed walking, stepping easily over the low cinder block wall onto a gently sloping hillside. The bright moon bathed them in a pale yellow glow as they strolled hand in hand across the wide lawn, the music from the party just a low hum behind them now. The farther they got from the facilities building, the quieter the night became. As usual, Rave's steps made no sound at all. Leesa was happy that even her awkward limp produced only the faintest brushing noise on the soft grass. She loved how Rave never seemed to notice her limp.

The top of the hillside was crowned by a stand of leafy maples. In the moonlight, the red leaves appeared dark purple. Leesa knew there were wooden benches spread among the trees—beautiful places to sit and relax in the shade on a warm day, but cold and uninviting on a chill night like this. Despite the bright moon, the area under the trees was shrouded in black shadows. Leesa suspected Rave could easily navigate the darkness of the copse, but the twisted roots would present a hazard for her. Without a word, Rave steered her around the edge of the grove.

Leesa's heart jumped when a dark figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped into their path. She squeezed Rave's hand, but relaxed when the moonlight revealed it was only a kid, fifteen at most, exceedingly slim with a boyish face and long blond hair. He flashed them a toothy grin, and she relaxed still further. The boy seemed clueless about how dangerous it was to be out here alone, and she wondered what he was doing. After a moment, she realized she sensed no similar relaxation in Rave. She turned her head toward him, but his eyes remained fastened on the boy.

Rave let go of her hand and edged forward, positioning himself between her and the boy. Confused, Leesa stepped to the side so she could see the kid's face. He hadn't done anything threatening—why was Rave being so protective?

"I only want the girl," the boy said to Rave. "Leave now and you can keep your life."

Leesa was dumbfounded to hear such words issue from such a boyish face. What was he talking about? Did he think he could somehow overpower Rave, who was half again his size? She looked more closely and saw no weapon in either of the boy's hands. She doubted he could overpower even her, let alone Rave.

She got her answer when the boy's smile twisted into a leering grin and a pair of pointed fangs dropped from his upper jaw. Leesa barely had a chance to register the fangs and what they meant before Rave sprang forward, crossing the gap and wrapping his arms around the boy in a movement almost too quick for her to follow. One moment he was standing beside her, the next he had enveloped the boy and pressed his mouth over the leering grin. A blue glow began to envelop both of them. She could feel the heat on her face and hands.

In less than thirty seconds, it was over. Rave dropped the boy's lifeless body to the grass. Blue flames danced from Rave's fingertips. Leesa watched as the boy's pale face seemed to grow lighter, almost translucent, and she wondered if she was going to be able to see inside his skin. She was about to turn away when she heard a crackling sound like wood burning. A few seconds later, the boy's body dissolved into a pile of gray and white ash.

She looked up at Rave and found him watching her. "Vampire?" she asked, remembering the last time she had seen such a pile of ash, back in the woods of Meriden. It seemed Rave had been protecting her for longer than she knew.

He nodded. "A young and stupid one. Like I said, surprise is almost always the difference. And this one was much too easy to surprise. That close, he should have sensed I was volkaane." Rave poked the ashes with his toe. "Maybe the bloodlust dulled his senses. He seemed awfully fixated on you." He smiled. "I certainly know how easy it is to become fixated on you, Leesa."

Leesa felt herself blush. "Do you think he's the one who killed the girl?"

"Probably. As I drew out his life breath, I could sense he had fed recently."

"You weren't kidding when you warned me your kisses were dangerous." Leesa suddenly began to shiver. Rave moved forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace, but despite his warmth, she continued to shake. Her reaction had nothing to do with the cold, and both of them knew it.

"I wish you didn't have to witness that," Rave said.

Leesa wished she hadn't seen it, either. She couldn't rid herself of the image of Rave dropping the boy's lifeless body to the ground. He had looked so young, so harmless, lying there before his body dissolved into a pile of ash. Was that what awaited her if Rave lost control during one of their kisses? Would she be burned to a crisp, reduced to a lump of gray and white ash? Everyone had been warning her not to get involved with Rave, telling her she and Rave were too different. She could only imagine what they would say if they had seen what she'd just seen. Maybe they were right. Rave was not only different—he was dangerous.

Stop it! she told herself. This was Rave. He would never hurt her. How had she gone from feeling so loved and protected to feeling so threatened? The boy was a vampire, and he'd been ready to attack. She forced herself to picture his gleaming fangs and the hungry way he had looked at her. He had meant to kill her—or worse—she had no doubt. He had already killed one girl, and possibly two. Rave had saved her life, and probably others as well. Of course Rave was dangerous—what did she expect? She was dating a guy who hunted vampires, for chrissakes! He was more dangerous than anyone she'd ever known. But not to her. No, never to her.

Unless he lost control. He had already admitted the possibility, but she had brushed it off, lost in the pleasures of their brief kiss. But that was before she had'd witnessed what could happen. She wondered if she would ever be able to forget the image of that pile of ash—and whether she should even try. Maybe it was best if she remembered it, kept it as a graphic warning about what could happen should she and Rave go too far.

It was all too complicated. And too scary. She didn't even have any real experience with normal guys—how was she supposed to decide about something like this? She pressed herself more tightly against him, trying to think of nothing but the strength in his arms and the warmth of his embrace. Slowly, her shaking began to diminish. Yes, this whole thing was dangerous, but she wasn't sure she could ever give up the way she felt when she was with him, the way she felt in his arms. Maybe they could be happy together without kissing....

But then the memory of their wonderful kiss rose unbidden in her mind, and she knew she was kidding herself.

23. AN UNUSUAL SKULL

"Who's there?"

The thick wooden door muffled Professor Clerval's voice, but Leesa was glad he was in his office. She had arrived early for her appointment, and with no yellow glow seeping from beneath the door, she'd been afraid he might not be here yet.

"It's Leesa Nyland, Professor," she called loudly.

A moment later, she heard the click of the old lock and the door swung open. The office was dark, lit only by two flickering candles atop the professor's desk. No wonder she hadn't seen any light under the door.

"Come in, come in," Dr. Clerval invited as he stepped back from the doorway. As soon as Leesa was inside, he pushed the door closed and turned the lock.

Leesa wondered why he was keeping the door locked. "I'm sorry I'm early," she said, standing in the center of the small office and letting her eyes adjust to the dimness. The air was thick with the fruity scent of his pipe tobacco, and she saw the pipe smoldering in the brass ashtray on the corner of his desk. A thin ribbon of smoke twisted up from the bowl in the candlelight, dissipating in the dimness above. "It was easier for the escort guy this way."

Even though Rave had destroyed the vampire four nights ago, she was still using the campus escort service if she had to go anywhere at night. Rave had impressed upon her that the burgeoning Destiratu could rouse other vampires at any time, and she should remain careful. Security was still high on campus, because the second girl had not yet been found, and no one but she and Rave knew the killer was dead.

"Don't worry about it," Professor Clerval said. He moved to his desk and sat down. "As a matter of fact, I'm glad you're early. I have something here I think you'll find quite interesting. Pull your chair up close."

Leesa lifted the old cushioned chair she'd sat on the last time she was here and set it in front of the desk, next to the professor's. Sitting down, she was astonished to see what looked to be a very real skull resting on a velvet cloth in the middle of the desk. The skull glowed a dull yellow in the candlelight, like a leftover Halloween decoration.

"Is that thing real?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. Very real. And very special. I call him Yorick." He chuckled, looking embarrassed. "A poor joke, I know."

He carefully lifted the skull in both hands and turned it so it faced Leesa. "Take a look," he said as he gently set it back down on the cloth.

It took a few seconds before Leesa realized what she was looking at. The skull appeared normal in all respects except one, but that one was enough to pull a sharp gasp from her throat. Jutting down from the upper teeth were two sharp, curved fangs!

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, her eyes fixed on the pointed teeth. "Is that what I think it is?"

Professor Clerval smiled. "Yes, it is. I believe this is a genuine vampire skull."

"How did you...Where did you...?"

"A few years ago I found an old manuscript describing the beheading of a supposed vampire here in Connecticut back in the 1700s. As is customary, the body and head were buried separately, a good distance from each other." Professor Clerval ran his hand over the top of the skull. "They did that to make sure the head and body could never join together and reanimate. Of course, most of the time, the person who was beheaded was just that—an ordinary person accused of being a vampire. But something about this account rang true to me. The author gave a surprisingly detailed description of where the head was buried, so I decided to see if I could locate the place. I was delighted to find what I thought was the exact spot. I went back at night and dug this up. I was astonished at what good condition it was in." He carefully prodded one of the fangs with his fingertip. "I've checked very thoroughly. The fangs are real. This is not a hoax."

"Why haven't you put this on display somewhere?" Leesa asked, her eyes wide. "This proves vampires really exist. Or at least that they once did."

Professor Clerval picked up his pipe and took a long puff. Leesa noticed he held the pipe well away from the skull.

"I'm not certain that would be wise," he said. "I've been thinking about the possible repercussions of doing just that. I'm not sure people need to know that vampires are real, especially with all the misinformation out there. Besides, it turns out vampire bone is even more sensitive to light than vampire skin. That's the reason for the candles. Daylight would disintegrate the skull. Even normal room lighting damages it." He smiled. "It's a good thing grave robbing needs to be done at night, or this could have dissolved in my hands."

He pointed to a small, darkened area on the right side of the skull's dome. "That came from sitting too close to my little table lamp here. So now I only study this by candlelight. I'm writing a paper about it." He took another puff from his pipe. "Whether I ever publish the paper remains to be decided."

Leesa stared at the skull, fascinated. It looked so solid. She found it hard to believe it could disintegrate just from light. "Can I touch it?" she asked.

The professor nodded. "Sure. Go ahead."

She gently placed her palm atop the skull. The smooth bone felt strangely cool. She couldn't believe it—she was actually touching a vampire skull. "It's amazing," she said, rubbing the top of the skull. "Is this why you wanted to see me? To show me the skull?" Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away, and the professor wrapped the skull back inside the velvet cloth.

"Actually, no," he said, fastening a metal clip to the top to hold the cloth in place. "If you hadn't been early, I wouldn't have shown it to you at all. You're only the second person to see this. The other is an old colleague of mine who studies vampires for a private foundation. But since it was out when you arrived, I decided to let you see it. With your family's connection to the creatures, I'm certain I can trust you to keep my secret."

"I won't tell a soul," Leesa promised. She wondered what Rave knew about vampire bones, remembering what she had witnessed a few nights ago. She pictured the small pile of white and gray ash—the bones certainly disintegrated under the heat of his fire. "But if it wasn't about the skull," she asked, "why did you want to see me?"

"It's about your mother," the professor said. "Just a moment." He lifted the wrapped skull and carried it across the room, placing it gently inside an old-fashioned metal safe. He pushed the heavy door closed and spun the combination lock. When he sat back down, he switched on the desk lamp and blew out the candles.

"I found something very interesting," he said, picking up a thick leather-bound manuscript from the far corner of his desk. "In here." He opened the book and thumbed through the pages. "This is one of the most comprehensive volumes about vampires I've ever found. It has a large chapter on grafhym."

Leesa watched him anxiously, wondering what he had found that concerned her mom. They had already decided her mom might actually have encountered a one-fanged vampire—perhaps Professor Clerval had discovered something that proved it. But what she heard next was even better.

"There may be a way to help your mother," the professor said when he stopped flipping through the pages. "At least, if what's written here is true."

Leesa leaned forward, scarcely believing her ears. A way to help her mom? Wow. "What does it say?"

"It's an account from a farmer in Mexico back in the late 1800s, about his wife. He writes that soon after suffering a strange puncture wound in her neck, which his wife said came from a man who bit her, she began behaving strangely."

Leesa thought of all her mom's strange behaviors. "Strangely how?"

"The biggest thing was that whenever she killed a chicken to cook for dinner, she drank its blood."

Leesa cringed at the image—thank god her mom had settled for tomato juice. "What does that have to do with my mom?"

The professor looked up from the manuscript and smiled. "It's the next part I think you'll find interesting." He ran his finger across the page, finding the lines he wanted. "The farmer tried getting help from the local shaman and even from the church, but nothing helped. Then a few years later, he and his wife came across the man she said had bitten her. The farmer killed him with a machete, and then watched in horror as she threw herself upon the body and began drinking his blood. The farmer pulled her off as quickly as he could and took her home." Professor Clerval looked up and met Leesa's eyes. "She never drank blood again."

Leesa took a moment to digest what the professor had just said. "You mean...?"

Professor Clerval smiled. "Yes. Apparently, the woman became her old self again. There's a similar account from Eastern Europe in here as well. If these accounts are true—and the fact that they're from two places so far apart makes it more likely they are—we may have found a way to cure your mother."

"Cure her?"

"According to this, reverse all the effects of the original bite."

Leesa's head was spinning. The professor was saying there was a chance she could have a normal mom, after all these years. She could scarcely imagine what that would be like. It was almost too much to believe or to comprehend. But drinking blood? She grimaced at the thought, but then remembered her mom's appetite for tomato juice. Maybe blood wouldn't be too much of a stretch for her.

Reading her expression, the professor responded to her unspoken concern. "It's an old book. I think we can probably get away with injecting the blood."

Leesa smiled. "Whew. I'm glad to hear that."

"I don't want to get your hopes up too much," Professor Clerval said. "First, we'd have to find the grafhym that bit her. If we're lucky and it's still in Sleeping Giant Park, we'd still have to catch it somehow. And the blood could be dangerous. Like I said, it's an old book—we don't really know what effect the blood might have on your mother. But this book has proven correct on a number of other issues, so I have no reason to doubt it." He lifted his pipe from the ashtray and took a puff. "So if by some miracle we did catch the grafhym, and if what the book says is true, the creature's blood should make your mother's symptoms disappear. There's one catch, though—the blood must be fresh, which means you have to get your mother to Connecticut."

Leesa focused on the word "dangerous." Why was everything in her life so dangerous all of a sudden? Did she have the right to ask her mom to try such a thing, when she couldn't even figure out what to do about her own situation with Rave? Was she being selfish, by even thinking of trying something so risky just for the chance to have a normal mother? She pictured her mom's habitually unhappy face. Perhaps her mom would welcome the chance. She had to at least ask.

Her thoughts turned to Rave, who had spent the last two days at Sleeping Giant searching for the grafhym. She hadn't heard anything from him, but knew he was still looking. If he did locate it, she had little doubt he'd be able catch the grafhym when she told him about this. Indeed, that would probably be the easy part. Getting her mom to Connecticut might prove far more difficult.

"I already have someone looking for the grafhym," she said. "After our last talk, I wanted at least to find out if there really was a one-fanged vampire there."

Professor Clerval closed the book, surprised but pleased. "Really? Who? Some kind of detective or something?"

Leesa smiled, picturing the silent way Rave moved and how quickly he covered ground. She imagined what he would be like in the forest. If the grafhym was there, Rave would find it. "Not exactly," she said. "More like a hunter. A very skilled hunter."

Twenty miles to the south and east, on the outskirts of the coastal town of Old Saybrook, three other hunters waited in plain sight. Vampires—two male, one female—hanging out in a small park next to a mini-mart grocery store. The park was dimly lit by pale yellow illumination from the store's parking lot lights, and the trio appeared natural and unthreatening, just some friends talking in a neighborhood park. They had been there for about twenty minutes, sitting at a wooden picnic table and seemingly paying no attention to their surroundings. A few cars had come and gone from the lot while they watched, but none had carried what they were seeking—a lone woman. They were in no hurry. The night was dark and chill, exactly the way they liked it.

They had been sent out by the Council to find a feeder for the youngest of the three, a short, stocky male whose bald head was covered by the hood of his dark sweatshirt. His name was Paul, and he'd been a vampire for little more than a century. The growing hunger gnawing at him was becoming increasingly difficult to control. Having already lost two of their coven, the Council decided he needed a feeder to slake his thirst and prevent him from going rogue. They sent him out with two of his elders to keep him out of trouble. The female was Tess, a petite blonde who had been a vampire for almost five centuries, and whose power had earned her a seat on the Council. Now that Robert had vanished and was presumed destroyed, Tess was the most harmless looking member of the coven. In her jeans and bright blue coat, she looked like a young mother, which was why she had been chosen for this hunt. The second male was Rafael, tall and white-haired, dressed in a long brown coat. Rafael looked like he could be Tess's father, or even her grandfather. But he was younger than Tess, by more than a hundred years.

Gail Bettancourt was tired. She had been on her feet for most of the last ten hours, working the register. One hundred seventy pounds was a lot of weight for her poor feet. But finally, her shift was over. All she wanted to do now was go home, give her babies a hug and a kiss and put them to bed, then soak in a long, hot bath. Maybe have a glass of wine and some cheese while she soaked. She smiled as she pulled the elastic scrunchy from her black hair and let it fall loose over her shoulders. That picture was sounding better and better.

She said goodnight to Henry, who would man the store alone until its midnight closing, and headed out the door toward her old Tercel, parked in the corner of the lot. The night was cold, so she grabbed the sides of her jacket together in front of her. No need to waste the energy to zip it closed—she would be inside her car in a moment.

As she bent to put the key into the lock, she sensed someone approaching. Her muscles tensed in alarm, but she relaxed when she saw the slight blonde drawing near.

"May I ask you a question, please?" the woman asked.

Gail straightened and turned toward the woman. "Sure. What do you need?"

The woman smiled. "I was wondering..."

Gail never heard the rest of the question. Somehow, impossibly, there was now a man standing beside her. Where had he come from? And how had he gotten there so quickly? Before she could even begin to formulate an answer, a pair of fangs sank into her throat and she collapsed into his arms.

24. DISCOVERIES

A column of smoke rose straight and thin from the short stone chimney atop the old log cabin—Leesa wished the thoughts in her head could be so simple. No chance of that, though, not with all she had learned in the past few days and all she now had to figure out and make decisions about. And that didn't even count the amazing trip that had carried her here. "Carried" was exactly the word, too.

Rave set her down gently on the narrow dirt road in front of the old cabin, more a wide path than a road, really. She still didn't quite believe the trip she had just experienced—maybe she was dreaming. If it was a dream, it was one of the best she'd ever had, Rave effortlessly carrying her cradled in his arms from Weston to Moodus, moving easily through the trees, following old game paths where he could, at speeds that should have been impossible. The fifteen-mile jaunt had taken little more than an hour—a wondrous hour Leesa spent pressed against his chest, soaking in his delicious heat as he raced through the woods. All her worries about the dangers of being with him were forgotten, lost in the pleasures of the journey. She looked over at him, marveling as always at how gorgeous he was. This had to be a dream—he wasn't even breathing hard. But if it was a dream, she didn't ever want to wake up.

One of the things churning in her mind was the news he had shared when he unexpectedly showed up at her dorm this morning. He had found the grafhym, in an isolated section of Sleeping Giant Park, and when she told him about Professor Clerval's discovery, Rave assured her he could find and capture the grafhym whenever necessary. Now all she needed to do was decide whether she could ask her mom to risk taking the blood, and then figure out how to get her to Connecticut. That was going to be difficult at best, but the only alternative seemed even more unlikely—getting the grafhym to San Diego.

She returned her attention to the cabin. She could tell it was old—the rough-hewn logs were cracked and weathered, the mud between them black with age. Tall oak trees surrounded the dwelling, their thick limbs overhanging the roof to form a natural canopy. The trees looked as though they had grown up around the structure, which meant it had been built a very long time ago, when the trees were young. To the left of the cabin she saw a small cleared field, bare and fallow this time of year, but she could imagine it brimming with herbs and vegetables in spring and summer. The place was wonderfully quiet, with only the gay whistling of unseen birds breaking the silence.

Farther up the road, before it curved into the woods, she spied another cabin and a couple of crude wooden houses, more of the isolated Maston settlement. Each home had a small field cleared beside it. On the opposite side of the road, an apple orchard covered a low hillside, the familiar short, gnarled trees growing in long orderly lines. Even from where she stood, Leesa could see plump red fruit hanging from the branches. The Mastons were clearly very self-sufficient.

She brought her gaze back to the cabin in front of her, which belonged to Rave's friend and mentor Balin. This was another topic whirling in her brain: Rave said Balin wanted to meet her, that he had come across some information important to her and Rave. Balin had apparently hinted that it concerned kissing, but he had revealed no more. She hoped it would be good news.

"I see now why you Mastons don't need cars," Leesa said. She fluffed her windblown hair with her fingers. "That was quite a ride. I don't think we could have made it much faster by car. And you don't look the least bit tired."

Rave smiled. "I've been making that trip quite a bit recently, so I'm in pretty good shape." He winked. "First time I've done it with a passenger, though."

"Well, this passenger is very impressed, let me tell you. Next time I need a taxi, I'll call you instead—the ride's a whole lot more fun." It took a moment before Leesa realized what she'd said. "Scratch that 'call you' idea. I'll send up smoke signals instead."

Rave laughed. "I'll be sure to keep an eye on the sky, then." He grabbed her hand. "Come on, let's see what Balin has to say."

He led her up to the cabin and knocked on the door. When the door swung open, Leesa found herself looking at a tall thin man dressed in a worn buckskin shirt and breeches identical to the ones Rave had worn to the Halloween party. His dark gray hair was longer than Rave's and fell loosely down his back. A few narrow streaks of copper brightened the gray. His lined face bore a broad grin.

"Young Rave," he said, before his eyes moved to Leesa. "And you would be Leesa." He studied her for a moment, nodding approvingly. "Now I see the reason for young Rave's dilemma." He stepped back from the doorway and waved them in. "Welcome to my humble home. I'm Balin. Come in, please."

Once inside, Leesa felt as if she had stepped back in time. The place was one big room, illuminated by a couple of candles and a small fire in a stone fireplace. The furniture was simple and well crafted, obviously handmade. A buckskin sleeping mat stuffed with straw lay upon the plank floor at one end of the room, while a dark brown bearskin rug covered the center section. She was pretty sure the rug was the real thing, and she wondered if Balin had killed the bear himself. In places, the fur had worn away down to the skin, attesting to the rug's age. Near the other end of the room, a pair of shelves held six large bottles filled with golden liquid. Their irregular shape and the tiny bubbles visible within the glass told her the bottles, like the furniture, were almost certainly handmade. Naturally, there was no television, radio, or refrigerator.

"Please, have a seat," Balin said, waving his hand toward four wooden chairs in front of the fire. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"I know you're not much of a drinker," Rave said, "but you've got to try Balin's mead. He's famous for it."

Leesa settled into one of the middle chairs, stretching her feet out in front of the fire. She didn't have a clue what this mead stuff was, but if Rave said she should try it, then try it she would. "I'll have a small glass, please."

Balin grabbed three pewter mugs and set them on the table. "I don't have any small glasses," he laughed. "Only partially filled big ones." He deftly filled two mugs from one of the handmade bottles, then poured about a third as much into the last mug, which he gave to Leesa before sitting down beside her.

She could feel the heat emanating from his body. It wasn't as strong as Rave's, but noticeable if you were looking for it. With Rave and Balin flanking her and the fire in front of her, Leesa felt pleasantly warm. She wondered why volkaanes bothered with fireplaces. She guessed it was more for the light than the heat, and maybe for cooking.

The bubbling gold liquid in her mug looked a little like beer, but with a much thinner, almost nonexistent head, more like champagne. As she lifted it to her lips, she smelled a faint, sweet fragrance that somehow seemed familiar, yet different. She tried to place the scent, but the answer eluded her. Here's to another new experience, she thought as she took a small sip. The brew tasted sweet and refreshing. She followed the sip with a much bigger swallow. "This stuff is pretty good," she said, smiling. "What's it made of?"

"Honey," Balin replied.

"Fermented honey," Rave warned. "Be careful. Balin's mead is stronger than it tastes."

Leesa rested the mug on the wooden arm of her chair. Honey—that was the scent she'd sensed but couldn't name. She could already feel a slight buzz from the mead. Rave was right. The stuff was way stronger than it tasted.

"This cabin is amazing," she said. "How long have you lived here, Mr. Balin?"

"Just Balin, please," he said, smiling. "I've lived here since I built it."

A puzzled expression lined Leesa's face "You built this place?"

"Well, a couple of friends helped me, but I did most of the work."

"But it seems so old. How could you possibly have built it?"

Balin looked at Rave. "You haven't told her?"

Rave shook his head. "It hasn't come up."

Leesa turned toward Rave. She thought he looked a bit uncomfortable. She was thoroughly perplexed now. "What hasn't come up?"

"Young Rave's a bit older than you," Balin said, grinning now at Rave's discomfort.

Leesa studied Rave's face. His skin was smooth and tight, his eyes bright and alive—though they looked a bit sheepish at the moment. She had assumed he was older, maybe in his early twenties. Nothing she saw altered her opinion. And Balin kept calling him "young Rave," so how old could he be?

"How much older than me?" she asked Rave.

"Oh, not much," he said quietly. "A hundred and fifty years or so. Give or take a decade."

It took a few seconds for the words to register in her brain. A hundred and fifty years? How could that be? He looked like he could be a senior at Weston, or a recent graduate at worst. "You're teasing me, right?"

"My kind are very long-lived," Rave explained. "Not immortal, like vampires, but most of us reach five hundred, at least. Barring an accident or coming out on the short end of a fight with a vampire, of course."

Leesa took another sip of mead while she digested what Rave had told her. She turned to Balin. "I guess that explains how it is that you built this place," she said, looking more closely at the aged walls. "How long ago?"

"A couple hundred years, more or less," Balin said. "And I was older than Rave is now when I built it."

Leesa shook her head. This is just what she needed—another incomprehensible thing to wrap her already overflowing brain around. She took a bigger swallow of mead. Maybe she should have asked for a full mug after all.

"How is it that you've suddenly taken interest in a human—in me—after all these years?" she asked Rave. "I know I must be the first, or we wouldn't be going through everything we are."

"I'm not sure," Rave said. "But I was drawn to you the first time I saw you." He grinned. "Maybe it's the vampire blood in you. That always gets my attention."

Vampire blood? What the heck was he talking about? Her brain did another few flip-flops. If this kept up, she was going to end up in a padded cell somewhere. If she did, she hoped they served mead.

Rave recognized the confusion on her face. "Didn't you say your mother was pregnant when she was bitten by the grafhym?"

"Yes, but..." Leesa's mouth opened wider as the pieces clicked into place. Her mother's blood was her blood. But if that were true, why didn't she have any of her mom's symptoms? "But I'm not sensitive to sunlight or anything like that," she said. "Heck, I don't even like tomato juice. How come?"

Rave shrugged. "I don't know."

"Maybe the placenta filtered your mother's blood enough to keep you from being affected in the same way she was," Balin said. "I think young Rave was kidding when he said he was drawn by your vampire blood, but perhaps he's right. Maybe you ended up with just a hint of vampire in your blood. Enough to trip Rave's volkaane senses, but not enough to affect you."

She looked at Rave, her lips pursed into a playful pout. "So, you only love me for my blood, huh?"

Rave wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. "I love everything about you, Leesa. Maybe your blood drew me to you, but it's not what keeps me there, I promise."

Leesa rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "I know. I was teasing. And I love you for more than your ability to toast my hamburger buns."

Rave laughed. "Well, that's a relief." He gave the top of Leesa's head a quick kiss. As always, she thrilled to the touch of his lips, no matter how brief. She wondered if it would ever be safe to do more.

"This brings us to why I asked you two here in the first place," Balin said. He edged his chair forward and twisted it slightly, to more easily see both Leesa and Rave. His face was very serious now.

"You said it had something to do with our being together," Rave said.

"Yes, it does. I found something in the histories I had long forgotten. That's one of the prices of longevity, I'm afraid. One sees and hears so many things, some of them just seem to fade from the memory."

"Is it about volkaanes and humans getting together?" Leesa asked hopefully. She didn't like that Balin's face remained so serious. Good news should have produced a happier expression.

"Not directly," Balin said. "But it could have a bearing on you two."

Rave finished his mead with a big swallow and set the mug down on the floor. "I know you, Balin. Something about what you found is bothering you. Tell us."

"You're right. There is something. But let me start at the beginning." He set his mug down on the chair beside him, then steepled his fingertips in front of his lips, deciding how to begin.

"There's an ancient technique, rarely practiced among our people, called Rammugul. I witnessed it when I was very young, younger even than you are now, young Rave. So long ago, I'd forgotten it existed. It hasn't been used since, at least not here. Searching the histories brought it back to me." His eyes moved from Rave to Leesa and back to Rave. "Rammugul is a way to turn off our inner fire. To extinguish it."

Rave's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Is that possible?" he asked.

"I witnessed it myself," Balin replied.

Leesa's heart was racing. This could be the answer they needed, the answer to her prayers. If Rave could turn off his fire, they could kiss for as long as they wanted, without risk. For the first time since he had shared his secret with her, she could picture kissing him as long and deeply as she wanted. She could imagine kissing him for hours.

"Why was it used?" Rave asked. "Why does such a thing even exist?" That a volkaane would want to extinguish his fire would have been incomprehensible to him before he met Leesa.

"Who first developed Rammugul, and why, is lost to history. I saw it used during a childbirth. The birth was going badly. There was danger of losing the baby."

Balin closed his eyes, remembering. He heard the screams, saw the look of anguish twisting the mother's face, saw the blue flames flickering from her fingertips, which should not have happened during the birthing process. Such a thing was rare among the volkaanes, and because they reproduced so seldom, losing even one child was a major loss. Old Kerchak, wisest among them and chieftain at the time, said her fire was killing the baby. He grabbed the mother's hands and guided her through a series of movements and special breathing. Balin could still remember watching the heat fade from the mother. First the flames disappeared from her fingers, and then her skin seemed to darken. Finally, he saw in her eyes that her fire was gone. It was not at all a pleasant look, but he kept that to himself.

He repeated the details to Leesa and Rave. "The baby was born strong and healthy," he finished.

Leesa had been following Balin's story closely, trying to make sense of things she didn't understand. But the fire going out and the healthy baby sounded hopeful. Her fingers closed around Rave's hand.

"Are you saying if Rave learned to do this, we could be together without danger?"

"Theoretically, yes."

"Hold on a moment," Rave said, squeezing Leesa's hand but looking at Balin. "I can see in your face that this story didn't have a happy ending. What happened?"

Balin picked up his mug and drained the remaining mead in one long swallow. "The mother never got her fire back," he said solemnly, resting the empty mug on his thigh. "Kerchak didn't know why. He said it should have come back, but it never did."

It took a moment for Leesa to fully comprehend what Balin was saying. "You mean, if Rave did this...?" She stopped, unable to voice the words.

Balin nodded. "Yes. If Rave extinguishes his fire, he risks never getting it back."

Rave jumped in before Leesa could reply. "But Kerchak said she should have gotten her fire back, right?"

"Yes."

"So maybe it was something about the situation, the emergency, the birth. Or that she had never practiced the technique, never learned to control it."

Balin shrugged. "Perhaps. You are certainly more powerful than she was, young Rave, and so perhaps more able to master the skill. But the risk remains."

"Wait a minute," Leesa said, getting to her feet and facing them both. "This is crazy. I'm not letting Rave risk his fire." She stared at Rave, thinking she had never seen the heat inside him so clearly. "Your fire is who you are, what you are. I'd never ask you to give that up."

Rave stood and kissed her forehead. "I told you there's very little I wouldn't do for you, Leesa. That includes risking my fire."

Leesa took both his hands in hers, reveling in the warmth of his skin. "And I love that you would even consider it. Believe me, I do. But I will not let you do it. No way." She grinned and tilted her head coquettishly. "Besides, I might not like kissing you without your fire."

Rave laughed and drew her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

"Fortunately, you two are a long way from having to make that decision," Balin said. "I need to do more research, and Rave will need to spend much time practicing it." He stood up and smiled. "But for right now, I have a suggestion I think you'll both like."

Leesa and Rave broke their embrace and looked expectantly at Balin.

"I told young Rave he should kiss you only with someone there to intervene if something went wrong, and that even then he must keep it brief." He put a wrinkled hand on each of their shoulders. "No one can judge young Rave's heat better than me. So if you two don't mind an old volkaane watching, I don't think there's too much danger in risking a longer kiss here."

No danger—that was all Leesa needed to hear. She looked at Rave and raised her chin expectantly. "Well, volkaane, what are you waiting for?"

Rave grinned. Leesa's heart fluttered as he laid his hands softly on her shoulders and leaned his head toward her with tantalizing slowness, his beautiful eyes locked onto hers. She could smell his warm breath as his mouth inched closer. Just before their lips met, she closed her eyes and parted her lips.

He kissed her gently, in no hurry now that Balin was watching, keeping them safe. When the tips of their tongues met, Leesa felt the familiar current surge through her. It was all she could do to keep from pressing her mouth tightly against his, but there was no rush here, no need to get as much of him as she could in a few brief seconds, so she forced herself to hold back, to enjoy the building passion, the growing heat. When he pushed his tongue more firmly against hers, she pushed back, matching his intensity as the heat inside her climbed another notch. His soft tongue began to dance inside her mouth, and she let hers dance with it. The heat continued to build, filling every inch of her body. She was floating, flying, falling, spinning, tumbling, twirling.... She felt his hands move into her hair, pulling her head against his, locking their mouths together, melting, molding, binding, joining. The fire exploded inside her, claiming her completely, body, mind and soul.

How long it lasted, she had no idea—minutes, hours, days perhaps—but when Rave finally pulled his mouth away she felt drained yet energized, lost but found, sated but wanting. And desperately, irrevocably, and joyously in love.

25. CONFRONTATION

Rain fell that night, a slow, soundless rain, and Leesa loved it. But even if she hadn't, it would not have mattered—not with the memory of that amazing kiss still lingering in her brain and warming her heart.

She was sitting on the lawn in front of her dorm, her back propped comfortably against the smooth trunk of a stout maple, protected from the wet grass by a black plastic trash bag. Rave had dropped her off a few hours earlier, following another dreamlike journey cradled in his arms. After eating a tasteless dinner of mac and cheese—in her euphoric mood, it could have been cardboard and she wouldn't have minded—she had tried to study, but found herself too restless and excited to stay cooped up in her room. Every time she thought about that wonderful kiss—which was anytime she didn't force her thoughts elsewhere—her pulse quickened, her skin grew flush, and she couldn't keep from smiling. So she had donned her bright blue waterproof Windbreaker over a sweatshirt and jeans, grabbed her umbrella and the plastic bag to sit on, and headed out the door with no goal in mind other than to escape the confines of her room.

She had expected to walk for a while, but hadn't gotten far. The soft grass under the maple, covered with a blanket of fallen leaves, seemed to beckon her as soon as she stepped outside. Enough leaves still clung stubbornly to the limbs above to shield her from the light rain, so she had closed her umbrella and rested against the tree, enjoying the cool, wet night. A slight breeze rustled the maple's leaves, and the pleasant smell of new rain still infused the air.

She closed her eyes and drifted back to the kiss. Once again, she could almost feel Rave's warm lips on hers. Had any girl ever experienced such a kiss? She'd read about plenty of kisses between people in love, and had thought all the rapid breathing, racing hearts and heaving bosoms were nothing more than corny flourishes meant to add excitement and passion to a book. And she'd seen countless passionate kisses in movies and on television, but they were make-believe, performed by trained actors playing their roles. Nothing like that happened in real life, she'd always thought, certainly not in her meager experience with guys.

But now she knew better. Love really did make kisses magical—and a little inner fire didn't hurt, either. She couldn't believe that just a few days ago she had been wondering whether she could be happy without ever kissing Rave again. As if! At least Balin had given them a glimmer of hope with that Rammugul thing. She sure hoped it worked—without any danger of Rave losing his fire, of course. Otherwise, Balin was going to have to chaperone them whenever they wanted to kiss, and Leesa was afraid that might get old fast. But maybe not, she thought, recalling how completely lost she had been during their kiss. Maybe not. Her cheeks grew warm, despite the chill night.

The rain began to fall harder, splattering more loudly on the leaves and the street. The heavier drops started to penetrate the leafy canopy and onto her uncovered head, so she popped open her umbrella. Safe again from the rain, she leaned back against the tree and watched the raindrops dance upon the asphalt.

She breathed out a long sigh. How she wished that kissing Rave and worrying about Rammugul was her only problem. But she also had to decide whether to tell her mom about the grafhym blood, and if she did, figure out a way to convince her to come to Connecticut. She hoped the chance for a cure would be enough to get her mom on a plane—if there was a way to cure her that didn't involve leaving the house, Leesa was pretty sure her mom would go for it. Determined to call tomorrow, she rehearsed what she might say, and guessed someone was going to have to go to California to help her mom prepare for the trip. She knew it would probably be her, but perhaps Aunt Janet might do it, or at least come with her.

The rain began to fall even harder, peppering the street furiously now, the drops splashing upward in a parade of tiny white fountains. Leesa's umbrella popped with a staccato pounding as heavy drops streamed off the saturated leaves above. The chemical smell in the air was gone now, washed away by the torrent, replaced by the musty odor of wet, decaying leaves. Leesa drew her legs more tightly against her body. Perhaps a forecast of rainy days would help persuade her mom to come to Connecticut.

As complicated as getting her mom here was going to be, and as irritating as the need for restraint with Rave was, neither was as frustrating as the third issue bedeviling her—finding Bradley. Unsure what her next step should be, she had allowed the problem to slip into the background, focusing her efforts and thoughts on Rave and her mom. But as she sat here in the rain, having hashed and rehashed both problems more than enough, her thoughts turned to her brother and her talk with Professor Clerval.

If Edwina was indeed a vampire, there was a chance she was holding Bradley as a feeder. Leesa refused even to entertain the idea that Edwina had turned him vampire—that would mean he was lost to her forever. Step one was to learn everything she could about feeders. Between Rave, Balin and Dr. Clerval, she had plenty of vampire experts to turn to. And in addition to the knowledge stored in their heads, the professor and Balin had access to lots of other sources of information. She began making a mental list of the things she needed to learn. If Bradley was a feeder, where might he be being held? Would there be a way for her to reach him? And most importantly, was the process reversible, or would simply putting an end to his misery be the best she could hope to do for him? She prayed that was not the case, but if it was, she was determined to do it, one way or another.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the dark figure approaching in the rain until he stood only a few feet in front of her. Startled, she sucked in a quick breath, relaxing slightly when she saw it was Stefan. But only slightly. She remembered Rave's warning not to be alone with him.

Standing there in the rain and smiling down at her, he didn't look very threatening. He was wearing a long black wool overcoat and black leather boots. The rain had plastered his long hair tight against his head and heavy drops dripped from the hem of his saturated coat, but he didn't seem to notice the rain at all.

"Hi, Leesa. Sorry if I startled you. Beautiful night, huh?"

Leesa detected no hint of sarcasm in his voice. She guessed vampires must like rainy nights as much as rainy days. If Stefan really was a vampire, she reminded herself. But Rave should know.

"Hi, Stefan," she said evenly, pushing the vampire thought from her mind for the moment. "It wasn't raining this hard when I came outside, but to someone from San Diego, this is kinda fun."

Stefan grinned. "A girl after my own heart. I love this weather." He looked around at the deserted street and sidewalk. "It doesn't look like anyone else shares our love for the rain, though."

There was nothing threatening in his voice, nothing to hint he was doing anything more than making conversation, but Leesa was suddenly aware of her vulnerability. She felt her heartbeat quicken, and hoped her alarm didn't show on her face.

"So, what brings you out on a night like this?" she asked. The question seemed stupid the moment she asked it—he had just said how much he liked the rain—but Stefan didn't seem to notice.

"I like walking in the rain. It's so quiet and peaceful, especially at night." Stefan looked at the building behind her, as if noticing it for the first time. "Is that your dorm?"

His question seemed genuine. Leesa was glad to know he hadn't been stalking her, and she hoped he'd come this way purely by chance. "Yeah. I thought I was gonna take a walk, but this spot seemed so inviting I just plopped down here."

Stefan glanced at the ground beside her. "Mind if I join you for a bit?" he asked. "Or would you rather be alone?"

Leesa was torn between the danger of letting him get closer and the chance to ask him some of the things she'd been wondering about. She decided to hedge her bet. "I've gotta go back inside in a couple of minutes, but you can join me until then." She lifted herself a few inches off the ground and stretched the bag out beside her. "I'm not sure if there's enough room on this, but give it a try."

Stefan eased himself down, sitting half on the bag and half off, unfazed by the wet grass and leaves. He wrapped his ropy arms around his shins, looking comfortable and relaxed. Leesa knew he could have used the bag as an excuse to squeeze closer and took it as a good sign he hadn't.

"Looks like it's letting up a bit," he said.

Leesa hadn't noticed, but the rain had indeed lightened, coming down with perhaps half the force of earlier, the drops barely bouncing off the street at all now. And the breeze had died completely.

"Yeah, too bad," she said. "I liked it better when it was pouring."

"So did I."

She felt his eyes on her face and turned toward him for a moment before looking back out toward the street, reminded of the mesmerizing power of those bottomless pools that were his eyes. "It was really bouncing off the street a little while ago," she said. "Like a thousand miniature fountains."

Stefan looked up at her umbrella and grinned. "You should have felt it bouncing off my head."

Leesa laughed. "Umbrellas aren't all that expensive, you know. Or hats, for that matter."

He smiled. "Yeah, but that wouldn't be nearly as much fun, would it?"

Leesa couldn't believe she was having this conversation with a guy who was probably a vampire. She wondered if Rave could have been wrong about Stefan. What the heck, she thought. Might as well ask. If Stefan meant her harm, she couldn't stop him in any case.

"Stefan, are you a vampire?"

A look of surprise flashed across his pallid face. He adjusted his position, swinging his legs around so he was facing her. "That's a strange question to ask someone," he said. "What makes you think that?"

Leesa kept her eyes on his face, focusing on his mouth to avoid his eyes. "Just something someone said."

"Really? I'm surprised—not many people believe in vampires nowadays. Do you believe in them, Leesa?"

Leesa thought about how to answer that. "Let's say I'm keeping a very open mind on the subject," she said. "But you haven't answered my question."

"If I said yes, would you be frightened of me?"

Leesa shifted her gaze to his eyes. They were black mirrors now. "Should I be?"

Stefan smiled, and his eyes became inviting pools once again. "No. I would never hurt you, Leesa, nor do anything against your will. I seek more from you than that."

Leesa's brain raced. He still hadn't admitted he was a vampire, but he hadn't denied it, either. She struggled to put it all together. What did he mean he sought more from her than that? More than what? If he was indeed a vampire, she realized, she now had a fourth vampire expert at hand—one who would know far more than the others. Could she use whatever he wanted from her to get the answers she sought?

"Do you know Edwina?" she asked.

Stefan blinked, obviously surprised by her question. Before he could answer, another voice broke the silence.

"Get away from her, vampire."

Leesa could not believe her ears—and eyes. Of all the times for Rave to show up! She silently cursed herself for staying out here in the open with Stefan. What had she been thinking? She hadn't been, of course. Thinking, that is. She had been too engrossed in prying information from Stefan. Now what was she supposed to do?

Rave loomed above them, no more than ten feet from where they sat, his eyes fixed on Stefan. He wore a dark blue raincoat that covered him down over his hips. He'd come upon them silently, while they were distracted by the dance of their conversation. She could see the tension in his limbs, as if he were ready to spring. Tiny blue flames flickered from his fingertips. Beside her, Stefan uncoiled slowly to his feet. Two wicked-looking fangs dropped from his upper teeth and a menacing growl rumbled from his throat. Leesa sat paralyzed, unable to will her muscles to make her stand up.

"I said get away from her, Stefan."

Stefan's face was a mask. "Do I know you, volkaane?" He began unbuttoning his long coat, using only one hand.

Rave followed suit, unzipping his raincoat with equal care. Each kept his eyes cemented on the other, knowing any distraction, no matter how small, could be fatal.

Leesa felt as if she'd become invisible. Her eyes darted back and forth between Rave and Stefan. With his pointed fangs and ominous growl, Stefan seemed by far the more dangerous. But she had seen Rave in action and had witnessed the effect of his fire on the young vampire just a week before.

She suddenly realized the rain had stopped, as if nature itself had paused to watch the impending confrontation. It seemed she could hear every drop falling from the tree and spattering onto the soggy leaves below. But the rain's end was not why Rave and Stefan were taking off their coats. She knew she was watching two warriors gird for battle—a battle that would not end until one of them was dead. And that was something she could not allow. Only her nearness to Stefan had prevented Rave from attacking already, but if she didn't do something quickly, that would not last. Surprise, Rave had said. That's what usually made the difference in these contests. With Stefan distracted by their conversation, Rave could have had all the surprise he needed, but obviously had not wanted to risk any harm to her.

She could not let this continue, could not take the chance of Rave getting hurt. Hunting vampires was what he did, but he had already given up his advantage and would be distracted by her presence as well. She remembered him saying how powerful Stefan was. No way could she let Rave fight him under these conditions. Nor did she want Stefan destroyed, for he might have the answers she needed. No, this was a fight she had to stop. But how was a mere girl supposed to keep these mortal enemies from doing what centuries of enmity was urging them to do?

She forced herself to her feet. Sucking in a deep breath, she stepped between them.

26. CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE

"If I am out of my mind, so be it," Leesa said, struggling to keep the fear out of her voice as she stood between Rave and Stefan. "But I'm not going to let you two hurt each other."

Her eyes shifted back and forth from one to the other, trying to perform the impossible task of watching both at once. Rave and Stefan cocked their heads to the side, unwilling to break eye contact even with her in the way. She knew if she moved back a step or two she would be better able to see them both, but then she wouldn't be between them, and it was only her presence there that was keeping them apart. Now, if she could just figure out a way to keep them that way.

In the blink of an eye, Rave flashed to his left, trying to create an opening, but she countered by quickly moving closer to Stefan. With the tree behind Stefan, Rave couldn't get to him without endangering her, and she knew he'd never risk that. And Stefan had sworn he would never hurt her, and somehow she believed him, despite the sharp fangs now curving down from his mouth and the low growl rumbling from his throat. Still, it took every bit of courage she had to turn her back on the vampire and face Rave. She thought she could feel Stefan's cold breath on the back of her neck and wondered if she was imagining it. Or was his breath as cold as Rave's was warm?

"Get out of the way, Leesa," Rave said. "Please."

"Yes, Leesa, get out of the way," Stefan echoed. "I don't need you to protect me from this volkaane."

Leesa folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not going anywhere," she said determinedly. "I forbid you two to fight." She thought how foolish she must sound—as if she could really stop these two supernatural creatures from doing what they wanted—but she tried not to let it show. Her only weapon was the concern they both felt for her, and she was determined to use it to the fullest.

Rave flashed back to his right, looking for some way to get past her. She felt Stefan's hands clamp around her waist, barely noticing the cold that penetrated through her jacket as he lifted her as easily as he would a child and deposited her to the side. His growling grew louder, but she jumped back between them.

"Even if you two get past me, I'll just throw myself into your fight. I know neither of you wants me to get hurt, so you may as well forget about fighting." She took a deep breath. "Do I make myself clear?"

She watched Rave closely and saw his eyes begin to soften. The blue flames on his fingers began to glow less brightly and the tension in his limbs seemed to ease a bit. She stole a glance at Stefan and saw his fangs retract into his jaw. The growling ceased as well. She had done it!

"It seems this is your lucky day, volkaane," Stefan said. "You'll not die tonight."

"I could say the same to you," Rave replied, "were you not already dead."

Stefan began to edge away, and Leesa moved closer to Rave to make sure neither changed his mind about fighting.

"Another time, another place, volkaane," Stefan promised, his eyes never leaving Rave's as he backed away.

"I look forward to it, vampire."

Leesa wrapped her arms around Rave's arm as Stefan moved off. She could feel his heat through his sleeve, much warmer than usual.

"Leesa, I do know Edwina," Stefan called back to her right before he disappeared into the blackness. "She's one of us."

Leesa gasped. Her grip tightened on Rave's forearm as the full import of Stefan's words hit home. Edwina was a vampire. Which meant Bradley was probably being held as a feeder—or worse. She shuddered and threw herself into Rave's arms.

"Don't ever try anything like that again," Rave said softly, holding her tightly. "If the Destiratu gets much stronger, neither volkaane nor vampire will be able to hold back. You could be killed."

"I'm sorry," Leesa sobbed, her cheek pressed against his warm chest. "But I just couldn't let you two fight."

Rave tenderly stroked her hair. "It's okay," he said. "It's over." He continued stroking her hair until he felt the tension begin to drain out of her.

"What was Stefan talking about there at the end?" he asked. "Who's Edwina?"

Leesa realized she hadn't told Rave anything about Bradley. "Edwina was my brother's girlfriend," she said sadly.

"Uh-oh," Rave said. "This can't be good. Tell me everything."

Leesa eased out of his arms. "Can we go inside? I'll tell you about it up in my room."

Rave nodded. "Sure. Let's go."

She led him into the dorm, still shaken from everything that had transpired. Without thinking, she headed for the elevator, but Rave grabbed her wrist before she could press the call button.

"Not a good idea," he said with a grin. "Remember your cell phone."

Leesa smiled sheepishly. "Oh yeah. I forgot." The last thing she needed was to get stuck in the elevator. She turned toward the stairwell instead. "The stairs it is."

Once inside her room, she opted for the softer light of her desk lamp rather than the harsh brightness of the overhead light. She fluffed two pillows and leaned them against the wall atop her bed, then sat down and patted the mattress next to her.

"Sit here with me, please."

Rave hopped onto the bed and put his arm around her shoulders.

Leesa snuggled close, enjoying his warmth. "Did you hear another woman is missing?" she asked. "Down in Old Saybrook. I saw it on the news. She just disappeared. No clues or anything."

Destiratu, Rave thought. His fears were coming true. The vampires were increasing their hunting. Was that why Stefan was on campus? And what was he doing with Leesa?

"Are you certain the vampire you destroyed is the one who killed the girls here?" Leesa asked.

Rave nodded. "Yeah, pretty sure. He'd fed recently—I could taste it. If the Saybrook woman was taken by a vampire, it's a different one."

"Just how many vampires are there around here, anyway?" Leesa asked.

"Scores, at least, just in this half of Connecticut."

Leesa's eyes widened. "That many? Wow. I never dreamed." She realized how silly that sounded. A few months ago, she didn't even believe vampires existed. Now she was accepting that there were scores of them here.

"And they're becoming increasingly hungry." Rave's eyes locked onto hers. "Leesa, you and your friends need to be very careful, please."

"We will, I promise." She put her head on his shoulder and snuggled even tighter against him.

"Okay, now tell me about your brother," Rave said.

Leesa told him everything, going all the way back to their walks to strengthen her leg, and how Bradley had protected her when the other kids teased her. She showed Rave Bradley's final email, and told him the reason she came to Weston was to find Bradley. Tears were streaming down her cheeks by the time she finished.

"I've never been that close to anybody," Rave said. "It must have been wonderful. And terrible when he disappeared." He kissed the top of her head. "And now to learn that Edwina was a vampire. My poor sweetheart." He kissed her hair again.

His soft voice and tender kisses helped Leesa regain her composure. "If Bradley did go away with Edwina, she's either turned him into a vampire—and I refuse to allow myself to think about that—or she's keeping him as a feeder." She lifted her head from Rave's shoulder. "Do you know anything about feeders?"

Rave nodded. "A captive kept as a blood source, yeah." He was not about to tell her what a ghastly existence it was.

"Do you know if it can be reversed?"

"I don't know. I've never heard that it can—but that doesn't mean it can't be."

Leesa rubbed a tear from the corner of her eye. "I have to believe it can. I just have to." She laid her head back on Rave's shoulder. "Do you know where the vampires live?" she asked. She felt his body stiffen at the question.

"Not exactly, no," he said after a moment. "They live underground, somewhere south of here and east of the river. By unspoken agreement, my people do not seek their lair, nor do they approach our settlement. The costs of such actions would be far too great to both."

Leesa eased herself out of his grasp and turned to face him. "That's why I can't let you kill Stefan. He's my best chance to find Bradley."

Rave didn't like where this was heading. "Leesa, you can't go hunting vampires in their lair. Promise me, if you learn anything, you'll come to me first."

She grabbed both his hands. "I can't promise that, Rave. I don't know what might happen." She squeezed his hands as another tear ran down her cheek. "But I'll come to you if I can, I promise."

Rave wondered if the best thing he could do for Leesa would be to hunt Stefan down and slay him, before the vampire could tell her anything that might lead her into trouble. He knew destroying Stefan would probably cost him Leesa forever, but at least she would be safe. "Please do that," he said. "You can't help your brother by getting killed...or worse."

Leesa shuddered. She knew exactly what he meant by "or worse."

27. GRAFHYM

Mother died today—she just didn't know it yet. Leesa hoped she would soon be reborn into an easier, happier, more normal life. At least that was the plan. If Professor Clerval's manuscript was correct about the grafhym blood's reversing the effects of the one-fang's bite. And if Rave could find the grafhym again and capture it alive. And if the injection did not produce any unexpected side effects. Then everything would be perfect. If...

Getting her mom to Connecticut had been easier than Leesa expected. Not easy, mind you, not by a long shot, but easier nonetheless. It started with a two-hour phone call, followed by an early-morning cross-country flight with Aunt Janet, then a red-eye return flight to New York City the same night. Uncle Roger picked them up at the airport and drove them back to Meriden, where they arrived well before dawn. It had been an exhausting twenty-four hours, but at least her mom was here, ensconced in the spare bedroom. The room had one window, and Uncle Roger had installed thick black curtains to keep it dark, which made her mom very happy. She had scarcely left the room since her arrival yesterday morning.

But she would be leaving it soon. They were waiting for Dr. Clerval, and then they would be off to Sleeping Giant Park, where Rave had promised to meet them at sunset. Not that there would be an actual sunset today, Leesa thought as she watched the rain stream down the front window. It had been raining all day, which was fine with her, and the afternoon was getting darker by the minute. Already, she could barely see the street through the gloom and the rain. The chill rain might cause them some discomfort, but was much preferable to sunshine as far as her mom was concerned. Leesa didn't think they'd have any trouble getting her into the car when it was time to leave. And that was all that counted.

A wide swath of yellow light knifed across the front yard as a VW van made a U-turn in front of the house and pulled to a stop. Leesa watched as the driver's side door swung open and a dark umbrella ballooned through the opening, followed by the white-haired figure of Professor Clerval, clad in a yellow rain slicker. He kept the umbrella low over his head as he trudged up the driveway.

Leesa opened the door before the professor could ring the bell. He stepped inside, holding the umbrella out the door and shaking the water off before pulling it closed and depositing it in a black and gold ceramic umbrella holder. Another thing most people didn't have in San Diego, Leesa thought—umbrella holders. They were pretty handy here in New England, though.

She introduced Professor Clerval to her aunt and uncle, and they all shook hands.

"Beautiful night to take in the park, eh, Professor?" Uncle Roger said, smiling.

"Just the kind they'd use in a horror movie," the professor agreed. "Though I bet the director would want to mix in some fog as well."

"Let's hope we can keep any horror to a minimum tonight," Aunt Janet said.

Leesa moved toward the bedrooms. "I'll go get Mom."

She knocked softly on her mom's door, entering without waiting for a reply. Her mom was sitting on the bed, waiting. She was wearing black pants and a heavy black and white knit sweater borrowed from Aunt Janet. The clothes were slightly big, giving her a disheveled look, but they would keep her warm. One of Aunt Janet's old raincoats lay on the bed next to her.

"Time to go, Mom," Leesa said cheerfully. "It's nice and gloomy out, just the way you like it."

Her mom smiled weakly and stood up from the bed, reaching out to Leesa with her hand. Leesa took it gently, touched by the gesture, and guided her out of the room.

Aunt Janet and Uncle Roger had insisted on accompanying them, so they had donned matching yellow rain slickers similar to the professor's and were waiting by the front door. That L.L Bean guy, whoever he was, must be selling a million of those things, Leesa mused as she slipped into her dark purple raincoat. Aunt Janet gave everyone an umbrella, and they headed outside to pile into Uncle Roger's Expedition. Aunt Janet sat beside him, while Leesa's mom sat between Leesa and Professor Clerval in the back. When Uncle Roger switched on the ignition, Mick Jagger bellowed "You Can't Always Get What You Want" from the car stereo. Maybe not, Leesa thought as Uncle Roger turned the volume down, but she hoped this time they'd get what they needed.

Uncle Roger drove cautiously on the rain-slicked roads, and it took almost half an hour to reach the eastern edge of Sleeping Giant Park, where they pulled onto a narrow dirt area at the edge of the road. Her mom had been silent the entire trip, gazing vacantly out the front window, but Leesa didn't care. At least she was here.

There were no streetlights on this stretch of road, and it was impossible to see anything beyond the Expedition's headlights other than the black outlines of the woods only a few feet away. Within moments of their arrival, a dark figure appeared at the edge of the trees and glided toward the car. Leesa instantly recognized Rave's graceful gait.

He was wearing the same blue raincoat as the other night. He stopped beside Leesa's window and smiled in at her. The rain streaming down his face didn't seem to bother him at all. She lowered the window and he leaned his head close, resting his hands on the edge of the door.

Leesa introduced him to her mom, Professor Clerval and her aunt and uncle. Rave nodded and said hello to each of them. Leesa noticed his gaze lingered on her mom a bit longer than on the others, but his expression didn't change.

"Glad to see you all made it," he said through the window. He held out his right hand, palm up to the rain. "No need for anyone to get wet, at least not until I get back. I've already made sure the grafhym's still in the area. Now that you're here, I'll go round him up." He flashed a confident smile. "If he hasn't wandered far, I'll be back in half an hour, at most."

Leesa rested her hand atop Rave's. Even in the cold and wet, his skin was pleasantly warm. She almost expected to see steam rising from it, but was glad not to, since she didn't know how she would have explained it to the others. "Don't worry, Rave, we'll wait as long as it takes."

"Are you sure you don't need any help, young man?" Professor Clerval asked.

Rave shook his head. "Thanks, but it would just slow me down."

Leesa forced down a grin. If they only knew how fast Rave could move. He kissed her on the forehead before turning and vanishing into the trees.

"He's very handsome," Aunt Janet said. "And he likes you a lot, I can tell."

Leesa smiled. She could still feel the warmth of his lips on her forehead. "I know. I like him a lot, too."

"Are you sure he can do this by himself?" Uncle Roger asked. "It's awfully dark out there."

"He can do it," Leesa assured him. "He's had special training."

"You mean like Special Forces or something?"

Leesa stifled another grin. "Uh, yeah, something like that."

As Rave glided silently through the trees, he thought back to his brief look at Leesa's mom. If you looked hard enough, you could see the resemblance between Leesa and her mom—the blond hair, the deep blue eyes, the thin nose—but in truth, the two really looked nothing alike. There was none of the joyful sparkle that filled Leesa's eyes in her mom's vacant stare, and no hint of happiness to curve her mouth into the bright smile he so loved on Leesa lips. More than ever, he hoped Professor Clerval was right, that the grafhym's blood would pull Leesa's mom from the prison in which she had locked herself for so many years. He knew what it would mean to Leesa to have a normal mom, someone to hug and hold, to share with and confide in, to laugh and cry with. And anything that would make Leesa happy, he was going to do everything in his power to make happen.

Finding the grafhym would be no problem. Though his people didn't hunt grafhym—there was no pleasure to be found in draining the essence of such a crippled creature—he knew killing it would be easy. Grafhym had only a fraction of the power of even the youngest and weakest vampire. But he was not here to kill the creature. The professor said the grafhym must be taken alive, its blood drawn while it still breathed. Capturing the creature would be a bit trickier—volkaane were trained to kill, not capture—but he was confident his strength and speed would be enough. Ironically, there were also his breath control exercises, which were about to prove useful for something besides kissing Leesa. He grinned in the darkness.

Ignoring the pelting rain, he leaped easily across a rushing creek swollen by the storm to a width of nearly ten feet. The darkness didn't bother him—you could not hunt vampires without the keenest of night vision. His pace hardly slowed as he raced up a steep ridge on the opposite side of the stream, zigzagging between the trees. His speed actually helped him climb the slippery slope, for his feet did not stay in contact with the wet leaves and grass long enough to slip. At the top of the ridge he turned west, finally slowing when he reached a gigantic granite outcrop he had marked on his earlier trip here.

He moved more stealthily now, easing his way down the far side of the ridge. He wasn't worried the grafhym would hear his approach—no creature moved as silently as a volkaane—but he was unsure how sharp the grafhym's vision might be, or how keenly it might sense motion in the darkness. He hoped it was asleep in the rocky den where he'd sensed its presence earlier, but wherever it was, its fate was sealed. He would not return to Leesa without it.

He stopped suddenly, his instincts telling him the grafhym was near. He sensed the one-fang moving slowly through the blackness, presumably alert. A wet twig snapped off to Rave's right. Scanning the darkness, he spotted a black form heading toward him, moving with an awkward gait. Every other step seemed a bit shorter than the other, but there was nothing in the grafhym's manner to indicate it was aware of Rave's presence. Rave melted behind a thick ash tree, a looped leather thong ready in his hands. The creature was making straight for him. All he had to do was wait.

When the grafhym came abreast of his hiding place, Rave flashed forward, dropping the loop over the creature's head and tightening the thong around its body in one swift motion, pinning its arms. Rave's fingers glowed blue as he gripped the grafhym's head and pressed his mouth over the creature's lips. He unleashed his inner fire in a tightly controlled manner, sending only enough into the one-fang to render it unconscious. There was no pleasure in the creature's life breath—the pleasure would come from watching Leesa's face when he presented her with the grafhym. He hoisted the inert body effortlessly over his shoulder and sped back through the forest.

Leesa sucked in a quick breath, her heart thumping in her chest as a jolt of adrenaline shot through her. One minute there was nothing outside her window but blackness, and then Rave had suddenly materialized out of nowhere with a limp form draped over his shoulder, his bronze face flashing eerily in the darkness, lit by the yellow glow of the Expedition's emergency flashers. If she didn't know how fast he could move, she would have sworn he had teleported himself there. She took a deep breath to quiet her nerves and smiled up at him.

"Rave's back," she told the others.

Uncle Roger switched on the headlights, and enough light spilled back alongside the car to illuminate Rave. Everyone twisted around to get a look at the burden he bore on his shoulder—everyone but her mom, Leesa noticed. Her mom seemed completely uninterested in what was happening and didn't so much as turn her head.

Professor Clerval was first out of the car, followed by Uncle Roger. Leesa had to wait for Rave to step back before she could open her door and climb out. The air was thick with the smell of wet leaves and dirt. Rave carried the grafhym into the bright glare of the headlights in front of the car and deposited the creature onto the muddy grass. Leesa followed close behind him.

The rain had slackened, floating down from the dark sky now in a misty drizzle. She moved forward for a better look at the creature that had caused her family so much misery. The grafhym would not have been attractive even if dry and conscious, but lying limp and soaking wet on the ground it was decidedly less so. Stringy dark brown hair was plastered across its pale cheeks in twisted strands that reminded her of seaweed washed up on a San Diego beach. Blotchy red rings circled its deep-set eyes, and its lips were thick and cracked. It wore a black cloak held tight against its thin body by Rave's leather thong. She was tempted to reach down and pry its mouth open, to get a look at the single fang that had so dominated her life, but she resisted the urge.

Uncle Roger held his umbrella over Dr. Clerval as he bent over the grafhym. The professor carried a small black leather kit in his right hand. "It's not dead, is it?" he asked, looking up at Rave.

"Just unconscious," Rave replied. "I didn't want any trouble on the way back here. It should remain that way for a while."

Leesa watched Professor Clerval roll up the grafhym's sleeve and loop a rubber tube around its arm, tightening it above the elbow. Ready now to take its blood, he unzipped his kit and pulled out a plastic syringe and a long needle, which he fitted onto the syringe. Feeling the creature's forearm with his fingers, the professor located a vein and slid the needle into the pale skin. He pulled up slowly on the plunger, and the syringe began to fill with blood.

Professor Clerval looked up at Leesa. "Go get your mother."

Leesa limped back to the rear door, but hesitated after grabbing the handle. Through the window, she could see her mom staring forward, seemingly unconcerned by what was going on in front of the car. She wondered what her mom was thinking, and whether she was doing the right thing by asking her to do this. What if something went wrong? What if the grafhym's blood was poisonous? Did she have the right to ask her mom to risk this?

She inhaled deeply. She wasn't doing this just for herself. This was her mom's only chance at a normal life, her only chance to be able to go places, to do the things normal women did, to feel the warmth of the sun on her face. Leesa pulled the door open. She would have to trust the professor.

"C'mon, Mom. It's time." She took her mother's hand and helped her out of the car, holding her umbrella so it shielded them both.

Aunt Janet patted her sister on the shoulder. "It's going to be fine, Judy," she said reassuringly.

Professor Clerval was standing now. Drops of water glistened in his white hair like tiny jewels. "Bring her here, Leesa, into the light."

Her mom offered no resistance as Leesa led her by the elbow toward the professor. His eyes met Leesa's and held them, as if asking one final time if she was sure she wanted to go ahead with this. She glanced at her mom and saw her eyes were fixated on the vial of blood in Professor Clerval's hand. A thin smile seemed to flicker on her lips. Was it anticipation Leesa saw there? She made up her mind and nodded to the professor.

Dr. Clerval squeezed Leesa's shoulder reassuringly, then rolled up Judy's sleeve and wrapped the rubber tubing around her elbow. He swabbed her forearm with an alcohol wipe and gently pushed the needle into her skin. Leesa cringed as he slowly pushed the plunger, sending the grafhym's blood streaming into her mother's arm. There could be no turning back now.

After what seemed like an eternity, the professor pulled the needle out and pressed a small round adhesive bandage over the wound. Leesa rolled her mom's sleeve back down. Her mom seemed to have barely noticed the experience.

"What should I do with the grafhym?" Rave asked. "Shall I destroy it?"

Leesa wasn't sure how to answer and was glad to be saved by Professor Clerval from making any further decision.

"Let it live," he said. "Who knows, we might have use of it again."

Rave looked to Leesa, who nodded. He hoisted the grafhym over his shoulder. "I'll take it back where I found it. Don't wait for me." He kissed her hair. "I'll see you soon."

Leesa watched Rave disappear into the trees. God, how she loved him.

"How will he get home?" Aunt Janet asked.

Leesa smiled, remembering her wonderful rides through the woods in Rave's arms. "The same way he got here, I guess."

"Let's get your mother out of the rain," Professor Clerval said.

Leesa studied her mom. The thin smile of a few moments before was gone from her lips, replaced by the familiar vacant stare. So far, Leesa saw no sign the grafhym's blood was having any effect. She told herself to be patient, to give it time. Taking her mom by the elbow, she led her toward the rear door of the Expedition. Suddenly, her mom's arm began to shake violently, and her whole body grew heavy in Leesa's grip as her mom's legs began to give way. Only Uncle Roger's quick reactions and strong hands kept her mom from collapsing into the mud.

28. JUST A WALK

"My memories, like some people's dreams, are mostly without color," Judy said quietly, absently stirring her bowl of homemade oatmeal. "More like snapshots than videos, too."

Leesa had been watching her mom closely since she sat down at the table, looking for any sign the grafhym blood was having the effect they all hoped for. Mom was talking a little strangely—as usual—but Leesa thought she detected something different than what she was used to in the strangeness. And it was wonderful Mom was talking at all, with the scare she'd given them last night, collapsing and passing out after being injected with the blood. She had remained unconscious all the way home and after Leesa and Aunt Janet tucked her into bed. But her pulse seemed strong and her breathing even, so they had let her sleep, hoping she would be better in the morning.

Leesa had never been happier than when she peeked in on her mom this morning and was greeted by a weak smile and a soft "Hi dear." She had invited Mom to join them for breakfast whenever she felt ready, and now here she was, sitting across the table stirring, although not yet eating, her oatmeal. At least she hadn't made any move for the jar of tomato juice Aunt Janet had discreetly placed at the end of the table.

Leesa picked up a few dried cranberries from the tiny serving dish in the center of the table and dropped them into her oatmeal. Aunt Janet's recipe was thick and delicious, enhanced with banana, raisins, dried cranberries and brown sugar. Leesa had never eaten oatmeal at home—who knew it could be so yummy? She swallowed another spoonful, hoping her mom might mimic her. But Mom just kept on slowly stirring.

"What do you remember, Mom?"

Judy's spoon stopped. She looked at Leesa as if surprised by the question, even though she had been the one who brought up the topic. "I remember lots of things," she said. A confused look tightened her brow. "But not a lot of details. It's all kind of hazy. Black-and-white, too," she repeated. She glanced toward the jar of tomato juice. "Except the tomato juice. Strange, but that was always red." Her spoon resumed circling in her oatmeal. "And blood, too. I remember when you cut your thumb slicing bread in the kitchen. How very red the blood was."

"Try some oatmeal, Mom," Leesa said, taking another spoonful herself. She wanted to talk about anything but blood. "It's delicious."

She watched her mom eye the tomato juice again. Leesa was afraid her mom might grab it and pour some into her oatmeal, but to Leesa's relief, she did not.

A few seconds later, Judy finally spooned some oatmeal into her mouth. She smiled. "It is good." She took another spoonful. Her movements were still somewhat robotic, Leesa thought, but at least a bit more natural than the vacant stirring.

"Do you remember anything about last night?" Aunt Janet asked matter-of-factly.

"I remember some horrid-looking man lying on the ground in the rain," Judy said, grimacing at the recollection. A moment later, her face brightened, and the transformation was startling. "I remember a very handsome young man brought him there."

Leesa smiled. "That was my boyfriend, Mom."

"You have a boyfriend? Why didn't I know that?"

Leesa thought of all the things her mom didn't know about her—hadn't known throughout her entire life—but said nothing. That was not a road worth going down, especially not now. She was determined to stay in the present, to think only about the future.

"Anyhow, he's quite handsome, even in black-and-white," Judy said, smiling. "I bet he's a good kisser."

Leesa almost dropped her spoon into her oatmeal. Where on earth did that come from? She felt herself beginning to blush and lifted her napkin to her mouth to hide her face.

"You never had much use for boys in high school, did you?" Judy continued. "I only remember that one boy. He was very tall. What was his name again?"

"Will," Leesa said. She would never in a million years have guessed she would rather talk about Will than Rave, but Will was a much safer subject. "He was on the basketball team, Mom."

Sensing Leesa's discomfort, Aunt Janet changed the subject. "Do you remember anything else about last night, Judy?"

Judy closed her eyes. When she opened them, she shook her head. "No, sorry. Is there something I'm supposed to remember?"

"No, nothing, dear," Aunt Janet said. "I was just wondering, that's all."

For a few moments, they ate in silence, the only sounds the clicking of spoons against their bowls. Leesa was glad her mom didn't remember being injected with blood; she didn't want to have to explain it. She still wasn't sure the blood had produced any real effect, but the fact that her mom hadn't touched the tomato juice gave her hope.

"That really was very good, Janet," Judy said, putting her spoon down into her empty bowl. "You'll have to give me the recipe."

Whoa! A recipe? Leesa couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her mom eat anything for breakfast but a bowl of cereal and tomato juice. Maybe it was working. Don't get too excited, she chastised herself. It's just oatmeal. It's not like Mom said, "Lets go out and soak up some rays." But maybe it was a start. Leesa looked down and saw she had unconsciously crossed her fingers on her right hand. She smiled. Couldn't hurt, she thought, dropping her hand into her lap before anyone noticed.

Her mom rose stiffly from the table and shuffled toward the wide picture window, stopping about two feet from the glass. Leesa watched her closely. This was one of the iconic images from her childhood—her mom standing by the window, staring out at a world she had mostly abandoned. Many times, Leesa had been outside looking in at her mom, wishing desperately her mom would come outside with her.

"It's so pretty out there," Judy said, her voice so soft Leesa wondered whether she was speaking to the rest of them or to herself. "So many colors. Green and gold and red. There's even some blue in the sky today."

Leesa got up and limped over beside her mom. Max took this as his signal to get up from his perch in front of the fireplace and join her. He stood next to her, his body pressed against her leg. Leesa stroked the top of his soft head. It was pretty out there, she thought. And her mom was right—though still mostly a heavy gray, the clouds had broken a little, revealing small patches of blue. She silently cursed the weatherman, who had promised another day of gray and rain—the kind of day her mom much preferred.

Judy turned toward Leesa. "Would you like to go for a walk, honey?"

Leesa thought she felt her heart stop. Had she heard what she thought she had heard? A walk? Outside? She tried to speak, to scream "Yes!" but nothing came out. Her voice was suffocated by years of things missed, of activities left undone. She felt her mouth hanging open, had to force herself to breathe. She threw her arms around her mother.

"Yeah, I'd love to, Mom," she managed to say at last.

Her mom wrapped her arms around Leesa's back. "It's just a walk, honey."

Just a walk? Sure, Leesa thought. And Harry Potter was just some wizard, Frodo Baggins just another hobbit, Moby Dick just another whale. Heck, by that notion, even Rave was just another guy. This was so not just a walk. This was the answer to a young girl's ceaseless prayers, the realization of years of hopes and dreams, the start of a whole new and better life.

Leesa forced her excitement down, in no way wanting to put any pressure on her mom. "I know, Mom. But I really like to walk."

Leesa was in heaven.

Earlier, she and her mom had enjoyed an hour-long walk, strolling leisurely with Max padding beside them, not talking much, content to take in the lovely foliage and breathe the crisp, cool air. The colors were a bit past their peak, but beautiful nonetheless. What Leesa liked best was that they simply walked, not worrying at all about shadows and sunlight. Sure, it had been a mostly gray morning and the tall trees had provided lots of shade, but her mom never flinched when they came upon an open patch of sunshine. The grafhym blood seemed to have done its work.

They had even held hands for part of the walk—something Leesa was certain many eighteen-year-olds would have found very uncool. But she didn't care. Six-year-old and ten-year-old Leesa had a lot of making up to do, and she was determined to make up as much of it as she could.

Which was why she was now at the mall with her mom and Cali. They had borrowed Aunt Janet's car and picked Cali up at school. Her mom was going to stay in Connecticut indefinitely, living with Aunt Janet and Uncle Roger, and she needed winter clothes. She also wanted to learn more about Leesa's life at Weston, and Leesa figured meeting her best friend would be a great way to start. Missing a couple classes was not that big a deal, and Cali—not surprisingly—had wholeheartedly agreed to ditch her classes as well. Shopping was one of her favorite activities.

The mall was not very crowded, and they moved easily from store to store, trying on outfits and making their purchases without much waiting. Two hours flew by, and each of them was now lugging at least one bag filled mostly with stuff for Leesa's mom.

"Let's take a little break," Leesa suggested. "I could use a soda."

"Good idea," Judy said. She looked outside through the mall's wide glass entranceway. "It's getting nice outside. I'd love to sit out in the sun."

Leesa couldn't hold back her smile. She had never in a million years expected to hear those words from her mom and would have agreed to sit outside even if the temperature had been below freezing. "Sounds great. I think there's some benches right outside."

"You girls go sit," Judy said. "I'll get the drinks. What would you like?"

Leesa asked for Diet Pepsi; Cali opted for lemonade.

Leesa grabbed her mom's bag. "See you outside." She turned and limped toward the doors. Her mom went back the way they'd just come, heading for the snack area.

Outside, Leesa and Cali set their bags down on the cement plaza and sat beside each other on a black metal bench. Leesa could feel the cold metal through her jeans, but she didn't mind. She leaned back and lifted her face toward the sky. Half the sky was filled with puffy gray and white clouds; the rest was a beautiful, rain-scrubbed blue. The air was cool but not uncomfortably so, and the sun felt wonderful on her face.

"Your mom's nice," Cali said, pulling her multicolored crochet Rasta tam from her head. She ran her fingers through her scrunched hair, fluffing it. "You never talk about her, so I thought she must be weird or something."

"She was sick for a long time," Leesa said, unzipping her red Weston hoodie halfway. "But she's much better now."

"You must be really glad about that."

Leesa smiled. "I am. You have no idea."

One of the glass doors swung open and her mom appeared, holding three tall white cups in both hands.

"Here you go," she said, handing a cup first to Cali, then to Leesa. She gave them each a plastic straw and sat down next to Leesa.

Leesa saw her mom had gotten a Diet Pepsi for herself and grinned, thinking how ironic it was that diet soda could be considered a healthier choice than tomato juice. But in her mom's case, it certainly was. And it was one more indication that the effects of the one-fanged vampire were disappearing from their lives.

"It'll be nice to have some clothes that fit," Judy said, pulling the checked green and white sweater she'd borrowed from Aunt Janet away from her ribs to show how much extra room there was. "And thanks to you two, a few more stylish things."

"No problem, Mrs. Nyland," Cali said. "I just wish I could have talked you into that pink and gray zigzag hoodie."

Judy laughed. "I think I'm a tad too old, Cali. But I appreciate the thought."

Her mom's laughter warmed Leesa almost as much as one of Rave's kisses. She could not even remember the last time she had heard her mom laugh before today.

A thick cloud drifted in front of the sun, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Leesa set her soda down between her legs and zipped up her sweatshirt. "Do you think you got everything you need, Mom?"

"I think so." She lifted the collar of a mocha-colored wool overcoat part way out of one of the bags. "If I had scissors, I'd wear this right now."

Cali rummaged through her rainbow-hued embroidered handbag and took out a small black penknife. "Will this do?"

Judy took the knife and carefully sliced the tags off the coat, dropping them into the bag. "Thank you, Cali." She pulled Aunt Janet's sweater over her head and quickly donned the overcoat. She buttoned it up against the chill and then showed it off with a slow pirouette. "How do I look?"

"You look great, Mom," Leesa said, smiling broadly. "Really great."

"Thanks, sweetheart." She sat back down. "This has been wonderful. It's been ages since I've done anything like this."

Leesa searched her mom's face for any sign of distress, any sign she remembered why it had been ages since she had done anything like this, but she seemed to be making the same kind of matter-of-fact comment anyone might make. Leesa smiled again. She wanted her mom looking forward, not back—wanted her to enjoy the future free from bad memories, guilt or shame. It seemed now there was a good chance that could happen.

"You know what would make all this even more wonderful?" Judy asked. "If Bradley were here. Where is your brother, anyway?"

Leesa fought hard to keep her smile. With all her mom had gone through, there was no way she was going to burden her with her concerns about Bradley. A one-fanged vampire had already wreaked too great a toll on her family—she was not about to tell her mom that Bradley might have been taken away by a two-fanged one. If only she could find a way to somehow bring him back. She needed to talk to Rave about it again.

"Bradley's been away for a while, Mom," she said evenly. "I'm not sure when he'll be back."

Judy looked disappointed, but thankfully, not worried.

"That's too bad. I hope I get to see him soon."

"So do I, Mom. So do I."

29. OVERCOAT WEATHER

Though brilliantly sunny, Saturday morning was overcoat weather in Connecticut. As soon as Leesa stepped outside, her cheeks began to tingle from the cold and her breath floated from her mouth in a small misty cloud. She quickly pulled her hands up into her sleeves and pressed her arms against her body.

Such a strange word to pop into her head, she thought. "Overcoat"—a word she would never have used in a million years if her mom hadn't spent the last three days telling everyone how much she liked her new overcoat. But Leesa didn't mind it in the least. Wearing the coat meant her mom was venturing outside, and that was all that mattered. So overcoat weather it was, and overcoat weather it would remain, no matter how unhip it might sound. Besides, her friends were used to her being a little less hip than everyone else, and Rave was a Maston, so he was even less hip than she was, if that were possible. What the weather really was, though, was sweatshirt and an extra T-shirt weather—her heavy red Weston sweatshirt over two T-shirts and a pair of tight black leggings. The bottom of the white T-shirt extended below the hem of her sweatshirt, hugging her hips the way she had noticed on other girls. She smiled, deciding she could be unhip and stylish at the same time.

She had walked with her mom in Meriden the previous two afternoons, but walks with her mom were more like strolls and didn't do much to work her leg or keep up her stamina. Not that she was complaining—she loved spending the time with her mom—but she was looking forward to raising her heart rate a bit more this morning.

Her heart rate rose sooner than she expected, and in a most pleasant way, when she spotted Rave leaning against a lamppost a short distance up the sidewalk. He was wearing a green long-sleeve shirt and jeans—and no gloves. A wide smile popped onto her face. She hadn't seen him since the night he captured the grafhym.

"You waiting for a bus?" she joked when she reached him.

"Ha!" Rave said, mimicking Leesa's favorite exclamation. "A horse and carriage, maybe." He grinned. "Or a beautiful girl, whichever comes along first."

Leesa made a show of searching up and down the sidewalk. The closest people were far up the road. "Looks like you're out of luck."

"Not from where I'm standing." Rave leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

Despite the cold breeze, her forehead tingled warmly from the touch of his lips. Even after he pulled away, she could still fill their imprint on her skin. She wondered if these little pecks would ever stop thrilling her. Not so far, that was for sure.

"Care for some company?" Rave asked.

"You bet."

Rave took her hand and they headed down the sidewalk. "How's your mom doing?"

"Great. She's eating like a normal person and getting more energy every day. And best of all, she loves being outside in the sun. We went to the mall Wednesday, and we walked the last two afternoons around Meriden. So far, there don't seem to be any side effects at all."

"That's great. You must be really happy."

Leesa beamed. "I've never been happier." She squeezed his hand. "You're a big part of that, you know." She stopped walking and lifted his hand up close to her face. "Am I imagining it, or is your hand warmer than usual?"

"It's always warmer when I'm touching you," Rave said, grinning.

"Ha!" She let go of his hand and punched him playfully on the arm. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. And you're right. It is."

"How come?"

Rave took her hand and they resumed their walk. "The energies that form Destiratu are growing," he said. "As our hunger and restlessness rise, so does the strength of our fire. If the energies keep increasing, the weaker among us will soon have no choice but to hunt. It's already affecting some of the vampires—you saw that after the Halloween party."

Leesa pictured the vampire's youthful face, still finding it hard to believe someone so young could be a vampire. "So the stronger Destiratu gets, the less control you all have?"

"Technically, it's not Destiratu yet, not until the energies reach a certain strength," Rave explained. "But yes, the stronger the energies become, the less control volkaanes and vampires have. If we do reach a true Destiratu, which is seeming more and more likely, things will get much worse."

Leesa remained quiet for a few moments, trying to digest everything Rave was saying and wondering what "much worse" would be like. She didn't really want to know, not now, not while she was enjoying her mom's rebirth and her wonderful relationship with Rave, but she was unable to push the thoughts from her mind.

At the main gate, they swung right, down the hill toward downtown Middletown. The wind blew directly into their faces now, gusting unchecked up the long road and sending a stream of dead leaves skittering around their feet. But she scarcely felt the wind's chill. Not with Rave holding her hand.

"Are you worried?" she asked finally. "Afraid of what the Destiratu will bring?"

"Not afraid, no, but concerned. More so than before I met you." He squeezed her hand. "I have more to lose now."

Leesa stopped and threw her arms around him, hugging him close, her cheek pressed against his chest. She could feel his heart beating against her ear and thought hers must be pounding twice as fast. Such a simple statement—I have more to lose now—yet so full of meaning. She felt tears brimming in her eyes. Tears of joy. Tears of love.

She let herself remain cocooned in his strong arms for a few moments before stepping back from his embrace. She took hold of his hands and looked up into his dark brown eyes.

"I love you, Rave." A warm thrill not unlike what she felt when Rave kissed her shot through her as she voiced the words.

He smiled. "I love you, too."

Leesa rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger on his smooth, warm skin. He sighed, and she teased him with a flick of her tongue before dropping back down from her toes. Her lips remained warm, as if they were being bathed in a tropical breeze rather than a late autumn wind. She still found it hard to believe such a simple touch could feel so wonderful. She wanted to kiss him for real, to feel his lips pressed against hers, to taste his tongue inside her mouth. But that would be much too dangerous without Balin here to keep them safe.

She let go of his left hand and began walking again, keeping hold of his right. "How's the kissing thing coming? Have you been practicing with Balin?"

He laughed, and she realized how her question sounded.

"Practicing the breathing stuff, I mean. Not kissing him."

"I know. And yes, I've been practicing."

"I hope you'll do some practicing with me later," Leesa said, trying to run her tongue provocatively over her lips like she had seen nasty women do in the movies.

Rave grinned. "I have every intention of doing just that."

Leesa stepped up her pace, tugging on his hand. "Let's get this walk going, then," she laughed. "Time's a wasting."

They strode rapidly down the hill, turning south onto Main Street into a bustle of people making their way to brunch at a couple of popular eateries. Leesa and Rave were forced to slow as they threaded their way along the crowded sidewalk, but slowing slightly for a couple of blocks wasn't a big deal, until Leesa saw something in a line outside one of the restaurants that brought her to an abrupt halt.

The woman was wearing an overcoat similar to her mom's. Clinging to her hands were two towheaded children—a girl of about four or five and a boy a few years older. Leesa's mind flashed back to images of herself and Bradley with their mom.

Bradley...

The floodgates opened. Questions and emotions surged through her brain. Where was he? What was he doing? More importantly, what was being done to him? She wiped her sleeve across her moistening eyes. Rave stared at her questioningly, his face filled with concern.

"My mom asked about Bradley the other day," she explained, her voice nearly breaking.

"Uh-oh. What did you tell her?"

Leesa tried to compose herself. "Just that he'd been gone for a little while, and I wasn't sure when he was coming back. I didn't want her worrying."

Rave put his arm around her and guided her to a metal bench at the edge of the sidewalk. "That's probably best...for now, anyhow."

Leesa snuggled against Rave's side, wishing there was some way to stop from worrying about Bradley. But she couldn't, not with all this stuff about Destiratu and hunger and loss of control. She wondered what effect it was having on her brother. She flashed back to the young vampire Rave had destroyed, how Rave said it was new and weak. If Bradley were a vampire, he would be very new and very weak. She shuddered at the thought of some volkaane killing him, his body disintegrating into a pile of ash, but then realized death would be a far better fate than an eternity as a vampire. This was not a road she wanted to go down, so she forced the thought down. Better to think about saving him. Which meant she had to keep thinking of him as a feeder.

"I have to find a way to bring Bradley back. For Mom, and for me." She inched away from Rave and turned to face him, her eyes looking beseechingly into his. "Isn't there anything you can do? You have power over vampires."

Staring down into Leesa's anguished face, Rave would have given anything to be able to tell her yes, to say he could steal his way into the vampire lair and spirit her brother safely away. But he knew he couldn't. It just wasn't possible.

"I wish I could," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But nothing short of a full volkaane assault or a battalion of human troops could breech the vampire cavern. Many would perish, with no guarantee of your brother's safety. I wish I could tell you differently."

Leesa sighed. "So do I. I was just hoping."

"If the Destiratu reaches full strength, you may get your wish. Enough vampires may be drawn out to hunt, enough of them destroyed to make it possible. Or perhaps our volkaane hunger will burn so strongly we'll have no choice but to hunt them in their lair."

Leesa didn't know what to say. The thought of dozens of Rave's fellows dying was not a pleasant one. And what if something should happen to him? How could she live with that? She had to find another way. She needed to talk to Stefan again, see what he could do. But she couldn't tell Rave that.

"I'd never wish for that," she said. "It's too horrible to imagine."

"Don't worry. If it happens, it won't be due to any wish of yours. It will be Destiratu."

Staring up at the ceiling, Leesa lay stretched out on her bed, thinking and drifting, her hands clasped behind her head. She was still in the clothes she'd walked in, having removed only her sweatshirt and shoes. Warm sunlight slanted in through the window and fell across the bottom half of the bed, covering her feet like a cozy blanket. Her mood alternated between blissful joy and troubled anxiety. The joy came when she relived the kiss she and Rave shared before he left. A kiss as warm and tender and passionate and explosive and loving as the previous three—but a kiss again cut short by her alarm. She wondered dreamily if there would ever come a time when they would be free to kiss so often she could stop counting their kisses. And no longer need the alarm, either. How wonderful that would be...if it ever came to be.

The anxiety arose when her thoughts turned to Bradley. She had to find a way to help him. She just had to. He'd done so much for her, had always been there when she needed him, and even when she didn't. Now it was her turn to do something for him. But how? She knew Rave would help if he could. He would risk his life if she asked him, but he had been very clear there was nothing he could do. Which left Stefan. He wanted something from her—she had no idea what—but whatever it was, she hoped she could use it to help her brother. But she had no way of reaching Stefan, no idea where to look for him, no idea when he might show up. When you counted your existence in centuries, a day or a week must be little more than the blink of an eye. She remembered the "time is not a line" thing from her physics class. Who knew what time was like for a vampire? And how many blinks it might be before Stefan came around again.

She hated this feeling of helplessness, but there was nothing she could do except to wait. And to hope. Hope it wouldn't be too long before Stefan came back. Hope that whatever he wanted from her would be enough to get him to help Bradley. And hope Rave was not around when Stefan did show up.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, hoping Cali was down in her room to provide some distraction. At least that was a hope with some chance of coming true right now.

30. SHARING SECRETS

"All this happened, more or less," Leesa said to Cali over a deliciously greasy sausage and pepperoni pizza in a popular pizza joint a block off campus. "Pretty hard to believe, I know."

They sat opposite each other in a booth in the back corner of the restaurant. The burgundy vinyl benches were worn and lumpy, but neither of them cared. Cali's dark gray Abercrombie hoodie was unzipped, and the stylish purple, gray and white Burberry scarf she had contrarily paired with the casual sweatshirt rested on the end of the table. The varnished wood bore the scratched markings of decades of young revelers, the modern-day equivalent of ancient cave paintings. Leesa had taken off her fleece-lined beige suede jacket, leaving her in a dark brown cotton turtleneck.

The place was jammed with Weston students. Their raucous chatter provided plenty of privacy for the two best friends, and Leesa had spent the last twenty minutes recounting her entire strange story, from her mom being bitten by the grafhym to her fears about Bradley. What started out as a casual jaunt for lunch and distraction had turned into full-blown disclosure. Leesa hadn't planned to unload on Cali—it just seemed to happen. She held back only about Rave's being a volkaane, for it was not her place to reveal his secret. She felt better having let it all out, but now that she had finished, she worried how Cali would react. Cali probably thought she was crazy. Leesa shifted her gaze away from Cali's face and stared instead into the flickering red glass candle jar on the table.

"Wow," Cali said, putting down a half-eaten slice of pizza and leaning back against the cushioned booth. "And here I thought I was the strange one in this relationship. I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner. Rule ten: share your problems with your best friend."

Leesa took a bite of her pizza. It was barely warm, but still tasted great—confession worked up an appetite. "I was afraid you'd think I was crazy. 'My mom was bitten by a one-fanged vampire' or 'by the way, I think I met a vampire at the frat party tonight' isn't the best way to start off a friendship."

Cali laughed. "Are you kidding? I would have been so into that. It's the coolest story I ever heard." Her expression turned serious. "Except for the part about your brother. What are you going to do?"

Leesa was so relieved Cali was taking her story seriously. "I don't know. I need to talk to Stefan, but I don't know how to find him."

"Kinda like Rave, huh? Vampires probably don't use cell phones, either." Cali sipped her soda, then looked back at Leesa. "So this Stefan guy is really a vampire, huh?"

Leesa nodded. "He all but admitted it. And there's other stuff that points to it, too." She couldn't tell Cali that Rave had told her Stefan was a vampire without revealing more than she wanted to about Rave. And she couldn't tell her she had seen his fangs without telling her about the fight she had stopped, which she was most definitely not about to do.

"And he hasn't tried to, you know, bite your neck or anything?"

"Ha! No, he's always been nice. A bit strange, for sure, but nice."

Cali grinned. "Of course he's a bit strange—he's a freaking vampire!" She toyed with a thick piece of crust she'd left on her plate. "Who would have thought my shy little friend from California would be dating a Maston and have a vampire hitting on her? Andy can get a little crazy, for sure, but he's seeming kinda boring right about now. I think I need to reevaluate my love life. Maybe find a vampire of my own."

Leesa almost choked on her soda. "Yeah, sure. Maybe next time I see Stefan, I'll ask if he has a friend for you."

"Cool," Cali said, laughing. "We could double-date in a graveyard or something."

They both laughed. Leesa was so glad she'd gone out with Cali. She hadn't planned on talking about all this and certainly couldn't have imagined laughing about it. But she was. And she felt so much better. Cali was the best. She was so lucky to have her as a friend. Now if Rave would just get complete control of his fire, and if Stefan would agree to help Bradley and want nothing in return, and what the heck, as long as she was dreaming, if physics would come a bit easier...

"I wish I could tell somebody about all this," Cali said. "You are the coolest best friend ever, Leesa. But don't worry, I won't tell a soul." She swallowed the last bite of crust and wiped her hands and mouth with her napkin. "How can I help?"

Leesa grabbed another slice of pizza. The more she talked about this, the hungrier she seemed to get. "You already are," she said between bites. "Just by listening—and believing me."

"Hey, no problem. How could I not believe you? Nobody could make this kinda stuff up."

Leesa smiled and took another bite, thinking how much more amazed Cali would be if she knew Rave was more than a hundred years old and possessed an inner fire that could burn Leesa to a pile of ash if he lost control during a simple kiss. Knowing Cali, she would think that was the coolest thing of all—and would probably want to try a kiss herself.

"Seriously," Cali repeated, "is there anything I can do?"

"Yeah. You can keep an eye out around the dorm, in case Stefan comes by when I'm not there."

"Great. Does he look more like Lestat or Edward?" Cali asked. She flashed Leesa a wink. "I'm hoping for something a bit edgier than Edward. He's too pretty."

Leesa laughed. "Definitely not Edward. More mature, less clean-cut. Good-looking, though, and pretty sexy. Black hair, pale skin. Always wears black."

"Sexy works for me," Cali said, grinning. "I'm always happy to keep an eye out for sexy."

"If you do see him, tell him I need to talk to him as soon as possible. If you know where I am, tell him." Leesa swallowed the last bite of her pizza and chased it with a drink of soda. "But do not go anywhere alone with him."

Cali feigned a frown. "Killjoy."

Leesa smiled. "I'm serious, Cali. Stefan is very dangerous. He's a vampire, remember? Promise me."

Cali sighed. "Fine. I'll try to keep my amorous side in check."

"Don't look now," Cali said as she and Leesa strolled up the sidewalk toward their dorm, "but there's a guy over there who looks a lot like a vampire."

Leesa followed Cali's gaze and saw Stefan leaning casually against the side of the building, protected from the sunlight by the shadow of the wall. As usual, he was dressed in black—black boots, black jeans, and a black hooded sweatshirt. The hood was thrown back over his shoulders now, but Leesa was pretty sure on a day as bright as today he would use the hood to protect his face when he was not in the shadows. Even so, she was surprised to see him on such a sunny afternoon.

"That's Stefan," she said.

"Really?" Cali checked him out more closely. "I thought vampires came out only at night. Don't they burn up in the daylight?"

"That's just stuff some writer made up," Leesa said. She waved to Stefan, who acknowledged her with a slight nod of his head. "But they don't like the sun—it hurts their skin. So I'm gonna go talk to him over there."

"And I'm guessing you don't want me tagging along, right?" Cali feigned a pout. "You have all the fun." She put her hand on Leesa's forearm. "Be careful, Lees."

"I will. I'll see you inside, okay?"

Cali nodded and continued up the sidewalk, while Leesa angled across the grass toward Stefan. She walked slowly, trying to think about what she wanted to say to him.

Stefan detached himself from the wall and glided a few steps toward her, careful to remain in the shadow. "Hi, Leesa."

Leesa stopped a few feet away, and then chided herself for her caution. If Stefan meant to harm her, five feet or ten would provide no safety. She moved another step closer, hoping he wouldn't notice her hesitation.

"Hi, Stefan. I'm glad to see you."

Stefan smiled. "I'm certainly happy to hear that."

"I was hoping you'd come around. I need to talk to you."

"Me, too. We didn't get a chance to finish our conversation the other night."

"No, we didn't." Leesa glanced up at the blue sky. "I'm surprised to see you out on a day like this, though."

Stefan followed her gaze upward and smiled. "Normally, I wouldn't be. But it's getting more difficult for me to come out alone. The Council has already forbidden most of our coven to do so. Soon I won't be allowed to, either."

Leesa had never considered there might be someone telling a vampire what it could and couldn't do. "Why not?"

"As our hunger grows, our control lessens. My kind prefer to remain in the shadows, figuratively as well as literally. Taking too many victims draws unwanted attention."

Leesa remembered Rave saying something similar about hunger and control. She glanced around, suddenly afraid he might show up and interrupt them again. They needed to go somewhere he would be less likely to find them, just in case. The bright sunshine argued against anywhere outside or too far away, which left her dorm. Not her room, though. Rave could show up there. "Let's go inside," she said. "It'll be easier to talk there."

A half smile appeared on Stefan's lips. Leesa thought he had probably guessed why she wanted to go somewhere else, but he didn't say anything about it, for which she was grateful. She didn't want to talk about Rave, and she certainly didn't want to have to explain her relationship with him.

Stefan pulled his hood up and donned dark sunglasses. Now he looked like a dozen other guys Leesa had seen around campus today. She led him through her dorm to a small lounge at the far end of the building. Sunlight streamed in through a large west-facing window, so she circled away from the light, passing up a pair of leather couches and sitting instead at a small wooden table near the opposite wall. Nothing wrong with keeping a table between her and a vampire, she reasoned as Stefan slipped into the chair opposite her.

The lounge was quiet, empty except for a dark-haired girl wearing earphones who was pecking away at her laptop at another table. Obviously engrossed in whatever she was doing, she didn't even glance up at their arrival.

Leesa looked at Stefan, unsure how to begin. He sat comfortably against the back of his chair, waiting, his eyes locked onto her face. As she'd told Cali, he was definitely sexy, both in looks and the way he carried himself. It was his eyes more than anything, she thought. They were impossibly dark and deep, inviting you in, yet full of mysterious depths. His mouth was pretty sexy as well, his full lips accentuated by the paleness of his smooth skin. If it weren't for the minor problem that he was a vampire, he would be just Cali's type. And she would have been more than happy to fix her up with him.

"I'm curious," Stefan said. "How is it you know about Edwina?"

Leesa relaxed a smidgen. Stefan had just produced the opening she needed to talk to him about Bradley and Edwina, so she decided to get right to the point. "Edwina was my brother's girlfriend."

Stefan raised his dark eyebrows. "His girlfriend, huh?" The smallest of smiles played upon his sensuous lips. "Edwina always did like to play with her humans."

Leesa suddenly felt very cold. She didn't like the way that sounded. "What do you mean 'play with'?" she asked tremulously.

"Vampires don't usually take human boyfriends or girlfriends. We kill them, or turn them vampire, sometimes make one a feeder." Stefan leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. His black eyes bored into Leesa's. "If there's a human we are especially drawn to, we turn them and make them our consort."

Leesa's chill deepened. Edwina had spent a lot of time with Bradley before he disappeared. Did that mean she liked her brother enough to turn him? That was what Leesa feared most, for it meant there would be no rescue for Bradley, no hope of ever bringing him back. She prayed it wasn't true, that Edwina was only, as Stefan had said, playing with him.

She was almost afraid to ask, but what choice did she have? She forced the words from her throat. "Do you know if Bradley is with Edwina?"

Stefan leaned back, his face blank. "I know no one by that name."

For a moment, Leesa's hopes soared. Stefan had never heard of Bradley! Maybe Edwina had nothing to do with her brother's going away. Maybe he left for some other reason, one having nothing to do with vampires. Maybe he got hooked on drugs and didn't want Leesa to know, or joined a cult, or ran away with a married woman. There were all kinds of possibilities. She didn't care what the reason was, as long as it didn't involve vampires.

But reality closed its grip on her quickly. She was fooling herself. Grasping at straws, trying to deny the probable truth. Stefan did not know Bradley. More accurately, he had simply said he didn't know anyone by that name. Did feeders even have names? Did vampires choose a new name when they were turned? She needed better answers, which meant she had to ask better questions.

She edged forward on her chair. "Does Edwina have a partner? What did you call it...a consort?"

Stefan shook his head. "No, she doesn't. Taking a consort is a very rare thing."

Something in the way he said it struck her. "Do you?" she asked, not really certain where the question came from.

Stefan hesitated for an instant before replying. "No. Not yet."

Leesa didn't notice his hesitation. She was too busy building up the courage to ask the question she knew she must ask next. "Does Edwina have a feeder?"

Once again, surprise lifted Stefan's eyebrows. "What do you know about feeders?"

Leesa sighed. She didn't want to spend time talking about the details of this stuff. She just wanted to know about Bradley—and whether Stefan could do anything to help him. "Not much," she admitted. "I've heard vampires sometimes keep people captive just for their blood. That's all." She met Stefan's eyes again. "Does Edwina have one?"

Stefan nodded. "Yes, she does."

Leesa's heart sank. This was the answer she had dreaded hearing. She reached into her bag, fumbling for her wallet. "For how long?" she asked, hoping Stefan would say something like "years and years," which would mean it couldn't be Bradley.

"Not long," Stefan replied. "But we experience time differently than humans. I'm not sure I can give an answer that will be meaningful to you."

Leesa at last managed to get her wallet out of her purse. She took out a picture of her and Bradley, taken by one of Bradley's friends shortly before Bradley left for college. They were standing with their arms around each other in front of a bright red bougainvillea. Both wore happy smiles. Leesa's eyes began to mist and she wiped them with the back of her hand before handing the photo to Stefan. "Is this Edwina's feeder?"

Stefan studied the picture. Leesa watched for any sign of recognition, but Stefan's face revealed nothing. Finally, he handed the picture back to her. His eyes were impossible to read, but she thought she saw a faint hint of sadness in them.

"It's him, yes," he said softly.

Leesa crumpled forward, her face coming to rest atop her forearms on the table. She sobbed into her arms, unable to stop her tears this time. She thought she had steeled herself for this moment. She had told herself to expect it, making herself think of it as the better alternative to Bradley's being a vampire. She had even fantasized vague plans of rescue. But she was not prepared for the reality, for the actual words that made her deepest fears come true. Her beloved brother was being held somewhere, little more than a human blood bank, suffering what she imagined to be a living hell.

She forced herself to pull it together. Crying would do Bradley no good. She had been waiting for Stefan, not just to confirm her fears, but also to find out whether he could help her. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and lifted her head. She was not a little girl anymore. Bradley needed her, and she was going to do everything she could to help him.

Reaching across the table, she clasped her hands around Stefan's right hand, scarcely noticing how cool his skin was. "Is there any way you can help him?"

Stefan stared at her silently. She wished she could read his eyes, but they remained bottomless black pools.

"It's very unusual for one vampire to interfere with another in something like this," he said at last, "but yes, I believe I have the power to do so."

Leesa could hardly believe her ears. Stefan could help her brother! Maybe her dream of reuniting her family was not just a dream after all. Her mom was already doing so much better, and now there was hope for Bradley. She forced herself to rein in her excitement. Nothing had happened yet. And there was something in what Stefan had said—or maybe in the way he said it—that gave her pause. So much of what he said always seemed to have hidden meanings. She needed a clearer answer.

"Can you set Bradley free?" she asked.

Stefan eased his hand from hers and stood up. The girl on the laptop looked up from her computer, distracted by the movement, and then returned to her work. Leesa's eyes remained glued upon Stefan as he paced a few steps from the table, turned around and came back.

"It could cause a great deal of friction," he said, standing over her. "Perhaps even land me in trouble with the Council. If I were to chance it, I'd need something from you in return."

"Anything," Leesa said. "If you'll free my brother, I'll do anything you ask."

Stefan sat down. Once again, his eyes bored into hers. "Don't be so quick to agree, Leesa. You haven't yet heard what I want from you."

Leesa had known all along Stefan wanted something from her—she had been counting on it to get him to help her. But her blood froze when he told her what it was.

31. WALKING THE HALLS

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day—at least not outside, where a fast-moving front had swept though overnight and deposited almost an inch of rain in less than two hours. Following the rain, the temperature plummeted, leaving a sheath of ice coating the sidewalks, streets, trees and power lines. The television was filled with news of jackknifed trucks, chain reaction collisions and downed electrical lines. Luckily, it was Sunday, so traffic was light and schools and many businesses were closed, but people were being warned to stay home and avoid the dangerous roads and walkways.

It was a warning Leesa hated to hear. She desperately needed a walk, after suffering a sleepless night tossing and turning while replaying her talk with Stefan and stewing over the deal he'd offered her. She had bundled up and gotten as far as the front door, but one look at the deserted, ice-coated sidewalks had been enough to send her back to her room. But she still needed to walk, because in addition to helping her think, walking was the only way she knew to burn off the nervous anxiety gnawing at her stomach and tightening the muscles in her neck and back. This was why she was now trudging up and down the hallways and stairs of her dorm, drawing curious glances from her neighbors as she limped by their open doors for the third, fifth or seventh time.

She had settled into a pattern: walk the length of a hallway, go down a flight of stairs, walk back the length of the new hallway, go down another flight of stairs. When she reached the ground floor, she repeated the same pattern going up, until she got to the fourth floor and started back down again. She had been "hiking" the halls for almost an hour now and was beginning to feel pleasantly exhausted and at least a bit less anxious. Cali had joined her for a couple of laps, Stacie for a few others, but Leesa was too focused on her thoughts to be very good company, so her friends voiced their support for whatever was troubling her and melted away when they passed their rooms. They both invited her to come visit when she finished, either to talk about what was bothering her or for some distraction.

She wished she could have shared her burden with her friends, but there was no way she could talk about it to anyone except maybe Rave. And with the horrid conditions outside, there was no chance she'd be seeing him today, which was probably a good thing, since she wasn't sure what she would say to him anyway. She thought briefly of confiding in her mom, but decided it wouldn't be fair to burden her with the decision.

Reaching the end of the third-floor hallway, she headed back into the dim stairwell and climbed back up the stairs one more time, emerging on the fourth floor. Like all the other floors, this one was noisy with music, conversation and the sound of televisions blaring from almost every room. Unable to go out, the students were entertaining themselves as best they could. One of the few closed and silent doors was her own, which she passed yet again, heading for the stairs at the other end of the corridor.

Her thoughts returned to her talk with Stefan. He said he knew it was a big decision and told her to take as much time as she needed to think about it. She promised to have an answer for him within a week, and he told her where he would be waiting at sunset every evening. If her decision was no, she could simply tell him and leave; if it was yes, he would be ready to release Bradley. It was so easy, so simple.

All she had to do was decide whether she could go through with what he was asking of her.

Monday morning broke bright and sunny, with little wind and temperatures soaring all the way up to a balmy forty degrees. It was still plenty cold, but warm enough to begin melting the ice from the streets. Early classes had been canceled—saving Leesa from math, at least—but once it became clear the ice would quickly melt, all classes from eleven o'clock on were being held as scheduled. So Leesa was now sitting in English lit, trying to pay attention to what the professor was saying, but without much success. She kept replaying her talk with Stefan, kept imagining Bradley chained in some dark cavern. For as much as she was getting out of class, it could have been Greek rather than English.

She had yet to reach a final decision, but she was pretty sure what it would be. And that meant she was wasting her time sitting here, even if she had been able to concentrate. There was no good reason to be here and lots of other things she'd rather be doing—like spending time with her mom, or maybe going to Moodus and looking for Rave.

She closed her notebook. No more classes today, she decided. Not even the rest of this one. She got up and quietly made her way to the door. As soon as she was outside, she flipped open her cell and called Aunt Janet, arranging for her mom and aunt to come take her to lunch. Then they would all go for a walk somewhere. She smiled as she headed back toward her dorm. This was a much better use of the time she had left.

She stopped by Cali's room to see if she wanted to join them for lunch, but she was at class. Leesa tucked a short note into the crack of the door, in case Cali returned before her mom and aunt arrived, and then went up to her room to change clothes and put on a more comfortable pair of walking shoes.

The forecast called for the temperature to top out around fifty, so she chose a powder blue turtleneck and a dark gray Hollister sweatshirt, leaving the same jeans on but switching to a pair of worn gray Nike athletic shoes. She grabbed a nylon jacket in case it got colder than she expected and headed back downstairs. Today would be family day. Tomorrow she'd see if she could find Rave. And after that, well, she would just have to see.

Aunt Janet pulled up in front of the dorm a few minutes later. As Leesa limped down the walk, her mom got out of the car, smiling and opening her arms wide. Leesa slipped into her arms, holding the embrace longer than usual, relishing the comfort of her mom's hug before finally letting go and climbing into the backseat.

Aunt Janet suggested they go to the Harbor Park Restaurant, which occupied the Old Yacht Club building on the west bank of the Connecticut River. Leesa had passed by the restaurant a couple of times, but had never eaten there. She thought lunch on the edge of the river sounded perfect.

The three-story wooden building was nearly one hundred years old, painted white with brown trim. The place wasn't very crowded, and they were able to get a table next to the window. From where they sat, Leesa looked out across a broad wooden deck, closed this time of year, to a panoramic view of the half-mile-wide river. To the north, she could see the two latticed steel arches of the Arrigoni Bridge shining like giant spider webs in the sunlight. Ninety feet below the bridge, the river rushed southward, its sun-dappled waters sparkling like a string of floating diamonds. Across the river, the barren hills retained only the last vestiges of the fall foliage.

Leesa ordered a hamburger and fries. Her mom chose a grilled fish sandwich and Aunt Janet decided to be a bit more adventurous and ordered a chicken fajita wrap.

"So, why aren't you in class today?" Judy asked after the young waitress scampered away with their order. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, about the chance to spend some extra time with my beautiful daughter."

"A lot of classes were cancelled because of the ice," Leesa said. It was not exactly a truthful answer, but it wasn't a lie, either. And it kept her from having to explain why she had been unable to concentrate in class.

"How lucky for us," Judy said. "I'm glad you decided to spend your bonus time with a pair of old fogies, instead of your girlfriends."

"Ha! Neither of you are fogies." Leesa grinned. "Old, maybe. But not fogies."

The two older women chuckled.

"Thank you for that, Leesa," Aunt Janet said.

They spent a couple of minutes talking about the storm and the damage it had caused in Meriden—thankfully none of it in Aunt Janet's neighborhood—until their food arrived. Leesa doused her fries with ketchup and added a few squirts to her burger. The fries were crisp, and her burger tasted juicy and delicious. Only about fifty times better than dorm food, she thought happily.

Everything was perfect—the food, the view and the company. She couldn't have asked for anything better. As much as she enjoyed her food, she was even more pleased with how animated her mom was—smiling, laughing, chatting enthusiastically. Leesa couldn't believe it had been less than a week since her mom had received the grafhym blood.

After lunch, they took a stroll along the river. Somewhere during the walk, Leesa reached one decision, at least. While she still wasn't sure what to do about Stefan's offer, she was definitely not going to endanger her mom's recovery by discussing it with her. She had been making decisions without her mom's help for most of her life, and she would continue to do so now.

32. HEARTS BREAK

Chill winds still blew, and yesterday's sunshine had given way to a high layer of gray clouds. Above the eastern horizon, a narrow strip of blue accented the gray like the painted trim on an old house. The cold, dim day mirrored Leesa's mood as she limped along the dirt road toward Balin's cabin—"road" being a kind description, she thought, of the rutted pathway. The musty odor of damp, dead leaves filled the air, and the farther she got from the lightly traveled highway where she'd parked her aunt's car, the quieter it became. Eventually, only the strident, irregular call of some kind of bird that hadn't headed south for the winter broke the silence, and she wasn't happy with the quiet. The last song she'd heard on the radio before leaving the car had been "Meet Me on the Equinox" by Death Cab for Cutie, and its plaintive, drawn out chorus—"everything, everything ends...everything, everything ends"—kept replaying in her head. She tried to shoo it from her mind, but the refrain refused to leave.

She had finally settled on her decision, and the weight of it hung upon her like a backpack full of textbooks. Telling Rave was not going to be easy. She had thought about going ahead and meeting Stefan without telling him, but he deserved to know. Besides, she needed a favor from him. A very big favor.

She hadn't noticed it when Rave carried her here a few weeks earlier—probably because of how swiftly he moved—but the air seemed to be growing steadily warmer the closer she got to the volkaane settlement. She wondered if it had something to do with the volkaanes themselves, or perhaps resulted from whatever was going on underground that produced the famous Moodus Noises. Or maybe it was just the long walk warming her blood.

She was hoping to find Rave at Balin's, since he seemed to spend a lot of time with the old volkaane, but even if she didn't, Balin would probably know where he was. Rave would be around somewhere, because she had asked him to stay close to home so she could find him in case she needed him.

Rounding a bend in the road, she spotted Balin's old cabin. A thin stream of white smoke drifted up from the chimney and disappeared into the gray sky. The charcoal smell of burning wood reminded Leesa of the fireplace in her aunt's house. She had limped a few steps onto the path leading to the cabin when the door swung open and Rave stepped out, dressed in a simple dark gray T-shirt and jeans. His face bore a broad smile and showed no sign of surprise, as if he had expected to see her when he opened the door.

She smiled back. He was so handsome, and so clearly overjoyed to see her it almost hurt to look at him—especially given the news she was bringing. Almost before she could finish the thought, Rave was in front of her. She still hadn't gotten used to how swiftly he could move. He swept her into his arms, lifting her feet completely off the ground.

"How'd you know I was here?" she asked.

"I'm not sure." Leesa felt his mouth stretch into a grin against her hair. "Maybe I smelled that vampire blood of yours."

Her mouth tightened. He shouldn't be joking about vampire blood. Not now. But he didn't know what she had come to tell him, she reminded herself. She pressed her cheek against his soft hair and squeezed him even more tightly. How she wished this moment would never end, that time could be frozen right here, right now. But that was not to be. She forced a smile onto her face and gently disengaged from his embrace.

"Very funny," she said.

Rave hooked his arm around her waist and led her back toward the cabin.

"Anyhow, I'm glad you're here," he said. "I've got something to tell you."

"I need to talk to you, too," she said just before they crossed through the doorway.

Inside, Balin greeted her warmly and ushered her to a chair in front of the fire. The heat felt good, and Leesa took her jacket off and draped it over the back of the chair before sitting. A black iron pot hung over the fire, and she smelled the savory aroma of some kind of soup or stew. She could hear it bubbling inside the uncovered pot.

"Smells good," she said as Rave sat beside her.

"It should," Balin said, smiling. "I've had a couple hundred years to perfect the recipe." He grabbed a wooden spoon from a hook beside the fireplace and stirred the contents of the pot. When he finished, he ran his finger over the end of spoon and put his finger to his mouth. "Should be ready in an hour or so. There's plenty for three if you two want to join me. Can I get you something to drink, Leesa?"

She saw two pewter mugs on a shelf above the fireplace and guessed that Rave and Balin had probably been drinking mead when she arrived. She was tempted to ask for some of the tasty brew, but decided she had better keep a clear head, so she asked for water instead. A moment later, Balin handed her a heavy mug.

"I figured you could handle a full glass of this stuff," he said, grinning.

Leesa smiled back and took the mug in both hands. Her hike to the cabin had built her thirst, so she took several long swallows. The cool water tasted delicious. Looking around the cabin, she saw no evidence of any plumbing. She guessed that Balin must get his water straight from a nearby stream or spring.

"What did you want to talk about?" Rave asked when she finally lowered the mug, now only half full, from her lips.

She rested the mug on her thigh and twisted around to face him. "No, you go first," she insisted, knowing that once she told him her decision, there was little chance they would be talking about anything else.

"Okay." Rave reached out and held her hand. "Feel this."

Leesa looked at him quizzically and saw deep concentration on his face. His hand felt warm, as usual. What was she supposed to be feeling?

Rave recognized her puzzlement and smiled. "Just wait."

She squeezed his hand a bit more tightly and watched him closely. He seemed to be doing something with his breathing, slowing the rhythm, inhaling more deeply. His eyelids drifted closed. She noticed Balin hovering above them, watching Rave intently. A minute ticked by, then another. She looked down at Rave's hand. At first she thought she was imagining it, but in another moment knew she was not. The heat from his hand was slowly diminishing. She watched him, wide-eyed, as his hand continued to cool, until it was only a little warmer than her own.

Balin placed his fingers against Rave's cheek. "That's enough, young Rave. Bring it back."

Rave opened his eyes and began breathing normally. Leesa felt the heat returning to his hand.

"Rammugul," Rave said. "I've got pretty good control of my fire now. But Balin won't let me extinguish it completely. He's still afraid I won't be able to restart it."

"It's too risky," Balin said.

Rave took Leesa's hand between both of his and squeezed gently. "I think I can do it." His eyes locked onto hers. "I'm willing to chance it, Leesa."

Leesa stared deep into his beautiful dark eyes and saw the unmistakable love glowing there. This was everything she had been hoping for, longing for. For him to have complete control of his fire, so they could be together fully, without danger, without worry. But not now. Especially not now. Everything, everything ends. The words echoed in her head again. She couldn't let this sway her from her decision, a decision she'd spent days agonizing over. And she was going to need his fire. More than she had ever needed anything. And then, in a way, they would be together forever.

Her eyes began to tear, but she made no move to wipe the tears away. Soon she felt them running down her cheeks.

Rave tenderly wiped the tears from her face with his thumb. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Even if I lost my fire—and I won't, I promise you—we'd still be together."

Leesa felt the heat from his thumb dry her cheek almost instantly. But though her tears might be drying, her heart was still breaking. She moved onto his lap and snuggled against him, burying her face against his neck. Everything ends.

"It's not that, Rave," she said when she regained control. "It's not that at all." She pulled her head back and looked at him intently. "There's something I need to tell you."

She hated the look of pained concern that crossed Rave's face, and hated what she knew she was doing to him. And it was only going to get worse. She hoped he loved her enough to go along with what she would be asking.

"Is there somewhere nearby that's special to you?" she asked. "Some place you love to go, to sit or walk, that you could take me to right now?"

Rave stood up, lifting her effortlessly from his lap and holding her in his arms. He kissed her forehead. "There is, yes."

"Then take me there. Please."

Balin watched as Rave carried Leesa out the door. The old volkaane was not sure what was going on, but his heart ached for them both.

Cradled in Rave's arms, Leesa kept her cheek pressed against his warm chest as he whisked her along the roadway, deeper into the volkaane settlement. The orchard she had seen her first day here flew by in a blur, as did a few cabins and several small houses more visible from the road now that the trees had discarded their leaves. After a few minutes, Rave turned off into the woods, following an almost invisible trail up a sloping hillside and down the other side. He carried her along the bottom of a small ravine, then back up another ridge, steeper than the first. No matter what the terrain, his footing was sure, his gait effortless. Even with her in his arms, he made no sound. She felt almost as if she were floating.

She wished she could remain like this forever, her body held tight against his, speeding through the countryside, across the state, across the country, around the world, even. She was certain Rave could do it. She sighed. If only.

If only it wasn't for her mom, and Bradley, and Stefan.

Finally, Rave stopped and put her down on a stone outcropping halfway up the slope of a tall ridge. Stringy weeds and tall grasses, brown now as autumn edged toward winter, sprouted from small cracks in the gray shale, but the expanse of rock held the surrounding woods at bay. She heard water splashing behind her, and turned to see a wide stream cascading over the uneven rocks into a slow-moving river far below. From where they stood, she could follow the river almost a quarter of a mile downstream before it curved out of sight. Even with the trees mostly bare of leaves, the place was beautiful. And very peaceful. The only sound was the gurgling of the stream as it tumbled down the rocky slope.

Rave took her hand. "Over here," he said, leading her closer to the stream, to a rock shelf that thrust out from the outcropping and formed a natural bench just above the water.

They sat side by side. Snuggled against him, Leesa could see why he liked this place so much. The view was starkly beautiful, mostly shades of gray and brown, especially with the overcast sky. Only a few hints of color broke the desolation—some stubborn red and yellow leaves still clinging tenuously to their perches and scattered mountain laurels with their perpetually green leaves. She knew it would be even more beautiful at other times of the year.

The recent storm had swollen the stream. In some places it bounced furiously down the rock, sending small splashes of white into the air; in others it gathered into clear pools, where the eddying currents carried dead leaves and other detritus around in spiraling dances. It should have been cold sitting here exposed to the chill breeze, but not with Rave beside her. His heat seemed to seep into the rock, warming her seat almost as if she was sitting on a heated pad.

"That's the Moodus River down there," Rave said. "A mile or so downstream, it flows into the Salmon River. We're not too far from the infamous noises that had your friends so worried about me."

Leesa smiled. "Well, you have to admit, Cali was right about the danger of kissing a Maston."

"Yeah, she was. But I'm working on that. I've almost got it figured out."

A week ago, those words would have sent waves of joy surging through her, but now they brought sadness, longing and regret. She threw her arms around Rave and buried her face against his chest one more time. Rave stroked her hair. His fingers felt like warm streams of water flowing down her head.

"I think you'd better tell me what's bothering you," Rave said. "What you came to talk about."

Leesa kept her face pressed against him. How was she supposed to begin? What could she say? There was no way to tell him without breaking both their hearts. Was she sure about what she was doing? Why couldn't she just remain here, happy and safe with Rave? Nothing could ever hurt her as long as she was with him. She knew the answer before the question was even fully formed in her brain: because Bradley needed her. And because she was her big brother's only hope.

She lifted her head and eased her arms from around him. She couldn't put this off any longer. It wasn't fair to either of them. "I saw Stefan again the other day," she began.

The pained expression on his face mirrored the pain she felt in her heart.

"He told me Bradley is being kept as a feeder. Stefan said he can free him."

For a long moment, Rave didn't say anything. "Vampires don't do anything for nothing," he said finally, struggling to keep his tone neutral. "And they don't usually meddle in the affairs of their fellows. What does Stefan want from you in return?"

Leesa drew in a deep breath. Rave had just made it easy for her to get right to the point. Silently, she both thanked him and cursed him for doing so.

"He wants to make me his consort." She saw the fear flash in his eyes, but forced herself to continue. "I'm going to tell him yes."

Leesa knew she would never see anything more horrible than the look that twisted Rave's beautiful face. She would have given anything not to tell him, to spare both of them this terrible pain, but that would have been cowardly. He loved her. He deserved to know what she was going to do. And she needed something from him, too.

Rave stood up, taking a few steps away and staring out over the water before turning and coming back. His expression was still filled with pain. "You can't do this, Leesa. You don't know what you're saying. You have no idea what you will become, no idea how horrible it will be."

Leesa stood up and took his hands in hers. "I have to save my brother. I have to." Her voice was soft, her speech broken. "He did everything for me...while I was growing up. I can't leave him...not the way he is now...knowing what he's going through. I just can't. I wish there was some other way, but you told me yourself there isn't."

Rave drew her into his embrace. For several long moments they just stood there, hugging and saying nothing. Tears streamed down both their faces.

"I've never been as close to anyone as you are to your brother," Rave said at last. "Not until now, at least. It's not how we volkaanes are. Balin is the closest thing to family I have, so it's hard for me to understand how you could make such a sacrifice, how you could do what you're planning to do." He looked down at Leesa, his pained expression softening. "But I think I do understand. Because I know I would do anything for you, Leesa. Anything."

Leesa squeezed him even more tightly. She knew he meant it, and she was glad to hear him say it, because it would make it easier to ask what she still had to ask.

Rave gently disengaged from their embrace and guided her back to the rock bench. "Before you do this, let me try to get your brother out."

She looked at him longingly. If only there was some way he could. But she knew he was grasping at straws.

"How?" she asked. "You told me there's nothing you can do."

Rave sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe I can sneak into their lair and get your brother. At least let me try."

Leesa shook her head. "You'll just get yourself killed. And I'll still have to do what Stefan wants to save Bradley."

Unless I manage to destroy Stefan before I die, Rave thought. At least then Leesa would be safe. But he knew that wouldn't be fair, to ruin her only chance to save her brother. And he knew Leesa wouldn't give up even if Stefan were gone. "Perhaps I will die trying," he said. "But I'd rather try and die than lose you forever."

Leesa took his hand and squeezed it. "No, Rave, I can't let you do that. Because there's something I'll still need from you."

Rave's brow furrowed. "What could you need from me, once you become...?" His voice trailed off, unable to complete the question.

She stared hard into his eyes. "I'll need you to kiss me, Rave. With the full force of your volkaane fire." She hated the agonized comprehension she saw in his eyes.

"You mean...?"

"Yes," she said. "I want you to destroy me. I don't want to spend eternity as a vampire, hunting humans for their blood. If I can, I'll come to you—make it easy for you. But if I can't get away, I want you to promise you'll never stop hunting me. Until you find me and destroy me."

"Oh, Leesa," Rave moaned. He pulled his hand free and stood up, walking in tight, aimless circles in front of her. "How can I do that?" he said. "How can I kill the girl I love?"

"I won't be the girl you loved, Rave. I'll be something much different. You said you would do anything for me. So do this, please, for the girl I know you do love. Let me at least know that the last thing I'll ever feel will be the heat of your burning kiss."

Rave leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, letting his lips linger against her skin. "I promise," he whispered. "It will be the hardest thing I'll ever do, but I will do as you ask."

Leesa hugged him with all her strength, her cheek pressed against his chest. "Thank you," she said. "At least then, in some small way, we'll be together forever."

33. BITTEN

It was a dark and stormy night. Not long past sunset, but it might as well have been midnight for all Leesa could see outside the windows of Professor Clerval's old VW van. Lightning crackled to the west, sending twisting yellow forks ripping through the umber sky, followed by rumbling explosions of thunder that seemed ready to shake the van apart. Every time the lightning flashed, Leesa's muscles tensed in preparation for the next fusillade of thunder. The rain was intermittent, at times pelting down in gust-driven torrents that rattled against the van, then subsiding to a light drizzle that floated quietly down, enveloping them in an eerie silence until the next peal of thunder. No screenwriter could have scripted a more fitting night for what she was about to do.

She was alone with the professor, parked beside the road just outside the closed parking lot for the Hadlyme Ferry. She had considered asking her uncle to drive her, but decided Dr. Clerval was the better choice for dealing with Stefan and for taking care of Bradley afterward. While the professor was distraught about the reason they were here, Leesa could tell he was looking forward to seeing an actual vampire.

When lightning illuminated the sky, she could see the macabre outline of Gillette Castle looming above them on a wooded hillside a quarter mile away. The odd looking structure, full of angles and asymmetrical towers, was built mostly of rough gray fieldstone collected from the surrounding area. She had googled the castle after Stefan selected this spot for their meeting and learned it had once been the home of an eccentric stage actor who gained fame playing Sherlock Holmes in the early 1900s. He had designed the place himself, and since his death, the castle had become the centerpiece of a sprawling state park. The structure would have looked strange even in the daylight, but at night, with the rain and lightning, it appeared foreboding and sinister. If the castle hadn't been part of a popular park, she would have thought it a perfect home for vampires. She wondered if Stefan was displaying a dark sense of humor by choosing this spot, but thought this was not a matter he would treat lightly. More likely, they were simply somewhere near the vampire lair.

The rain began to fall more heavily again, pounding upon the roof of the VW and streaming down over the windows, turning them opaque.

"You certainly picked a miserable night for this," Professor Clerval said.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Leesa said. "But if I don't do it now, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to."

"Are you absolutely certain about this? It's not something that can be undone. Ever." Dr. Clerval rested his bony hand atop Leesa's. He knew her mind was made up, but felt he had to make one last attempt to persuade her to change her mind. "We can still drive away. No one would blame you."

Leesa shook her head. "Believe me, I'd rather be anywhere but here. But I don't have a choice. I have to do it. For Bradley. He'd do the same for me, I know he would." And probably wouldn't have agonized over the decision nearly as much, she thought.

She had explained her bargain with Stefan to Professor Clerval the day before to prepare him for what was going to happen. He had tried hard to talk her out of it, but she'd been resolute, and finally he had given in and agreed to help. Once her plans were made, she spent most of yesterday and all of today with her mom, cherishing every moment. She had hung out with Cali, Caitlin and Stacie for a couple of hours last night, drinking wine and trying to have fun. At the end of the evening, she told Cali she was going to meet Stefan tonight about helping Bradley. But she didn't tell her what that really meant.

So her unsaid goodbyes were done. She hadn't trusted herself to see Rave again, instead letting their time beside the stream be their final farewell. All that remained now was to wait for Stefan.

She didn't have long to wait.

A flash of lightning revealed three dark silhouettes by a trailhead in the closed-up park, maybe fifty yards from the van. So brief was the illumination, Leesa wasn't even sure she had actually seen them, but if she had, it had to be Stefan—nobody else would be out on a night like this. But was one of the figures Bradley? Desperate to see, she squinted hard into the darkness, but it was impossible to pierce the blackness.

"Did you see someone?" she asked the professor, pointing anxiously through the front window. "Over there, a little way up the trail?"

"I think so." Professor Clerval leaned forward, trying like Leesa to see where seeing was impossible. "Three of them?"

Before Leesa could answer, Stefan glided into the pale glow thrown by the van's parking lights. He was alone. As usual, he was dressed in black—jacket, jeans and boots. He seemed oblivious to the rain streaming down his uncovered head and dripping from his long hair and his chin. He smiled at Leesa through the window.

Leesa grabbed her umbrella and climbed out of the van, snapping the umbrella open as soon as she was out the door. She heard the driver's side door thunk closed, and a moment later, Professor Clerval was standing beside her, also shielded by an umbrella.

Stefan turned to the professor. "Professor Clerval. We've not met, but I've sat in on your class several times over the years. I assume Leesa has told you who I am?"

Dr. Clerval swallowed hard, scarcely able to believe he was talking to a vampire. He almost forgot why he was here. "She has, yes," he said evenly.

"Then this must be quite a moment for you. To actually stand before the object of your lifelong obsession." He let his fangs drop slowly down from his jaw. "To know now without a doubt that we do exist."

Leesa faltered back a step at the sight of Stefan's fangs. Even though she knew he was a vampire, the sight of the pointed teeth startled her. An image of those yellow fangs piercing her throat rose unbidden into her mind. She shivered.

Professor Clerval was similarly distracted, but for a different reason. He stared at Stefan's fangs, studying them. They looked exactly like the ones on his prized skull. He forced the thoughts away and returned his gaze to Stefan's eyes. "Please don't make Leesa go through with this."

Stefan raised his eyebrows quizzically. "I've not yet even heard what her choice is," he said. His fangs disappeared, replaced by a thin smile as he turned to Leesa. "Am I making you do anything, Leesa? Or are you here of your own free will?"

Leesa studied his face, annoyed that a part of her still found him sexy. "I'm here of my own choice," she said. "To save my brother."

"You know what I mean, Stefan," Dr. Clerval said, still trying to make this turn out differently than these two intended. "You're forcing her to make this horrible choice for her brother's sake."

"That's where you and I differ, Professor. I don't see it as horrible. Indeed, I relish my current existence. I would not undo it even if I could. As for Leesa's brother, my kind do not lightly meddle in one another's affairs. What I'm offering her is no small thing."

Leesa spoke before Professor Clerval could respond. "Enough, you two. I've made my decision." She looked past Stefan, trying to probe the darkness, but still could see nothing. "Is Bradley out there?"

"He is," Stefan said. "Shall I bring him to you? Do you accept my offer?"

Leesa took a deep breath. This was it. She could still turn back, could still return to her old life, could still enjoy life with her mom, with Rave, with Cali and her other friends. As Professor Clerval had said, no one would blame her. Indeed, except for Rave and the professor, no one would even know what she had done. Or failed to do. No one but me, she thought. "Yes. I do," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. "Get my brother, please."

Stefan nodded, then vanished into the darkness. Leesa kept her eyes fixed on the spot where he disappeared, waiting to see her brother. The seconds dragged by. The rain slackened, floating down now in a misty drizzle. Without the drumming of the rain on the ground and on their umbrellas, the night was suddenly silent. After what seemed an eternity, she heard the splash of slow, heavy footsteps, and a moment later Stefan and Bradley emerged from the blackness. Lurking behind them, Leesa saw the outlines of three more dark figures. Stefan knew she had a volkaane friend and was clearly taking no chances Rave might be somewhere nearby. She guessed there were other vampires out there besides the three she could see and was glad she hadn't let Rave talk her into letting him come with her.

As Stefan and Bradley splashed nearer, Leesa's hand rose unbidden to her mouth. She had thought she was ready for anything, but she was not prepared for this. Not even close. Bradley lurched forward woodenly, his arm around Stefan's shoulders, his weight supported almost entirely by the vampire. His blond hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, plastered by the rain in twisted strands across his cheeks and shoulders. Soiled clothes hung loosely from his gaunt frame, and his pale skin looked almost yellow. But none of that was as distressing as his eyes. Eyes that should have been as bright and blue as hers were instead dull and lifeless, staring vacantly into nothingness.

This was not the Bradley she had been expecting, not the Bradley she could return to their mom's joyous embrace. This was a zombie straight from some horror movie. She should have rushed forward to hug him, but was unable to move. Her vocal cords seemed frozen as well.

"He'll recover," Stefan said, reading the distress on Leesa's face as he brought Bradley forward the last few steps. "His blood level is very low. He'll need rest, and lots to eat and drink." He looked at Professor Clerval. "And keep him warm. Very warm."

Leesa stepped forward and placed her hand lightly against Bradley's cheek. His skin felt like rubber and was icy cold. "Bradley?"

Bradley lifted his head. His eyes seemed to find some focus as he looked at her. "Pumpkin?"

Tears streamed down Leesa's cheeks at the sound of that single word. She dropped the umbrella and threw her arms around her brother, holding him close and trying to will her body's warmth into him. If only Rave were here to lend his heat.

She was suddenly aware that Bradley had put his arms around her, returning her hug, and she squeezed him even more tightly. The brother she adored was still inside this frail body. Her bargain would be worth it after all.

"Yes, it's me," she said. "Leesa."

"Leeee-saaa," Bradley whispered. He seemed to gain strength from her presence, from her touch. After a moment, he pulled his head back and looked down at her face. "I told you...not to...look for me." He turned toward Stefan, then back to Leesa. "Ohhh, pumpkin...what have you done?"

More tears welled up in Leesa's eyes, but she fought them back. "Only what you've done for me my whole life." She drew Bradley deeper into her embrace. "I'm taking care of you."

Bradley's knees buckled, his strength gone. Stefan caught him easily and held him upright. Leesa was glad her brother didn't have the strength to fight her.

"Let's get him into the van," she said.

Stefan lifted Bradley in his arms and carried him to the van. Leesa pulled the door open, and after Stefan deposited Bradley onto the seat, she buckled the seat belt around him. She kissed her brother's cheek and closed the door. She turned to Professor Clerval, waiting behind her, a sad look on his wizened face.

"Turn the heat up high," she said. "Get him home as quick as you can. You heard what Stefan said. Feed him and keep him warm. When he's better, take him to my mom, and give them the letters I gave you."

Professor Clerval nodded. "I will. I promise."

"Don't tell anyone the truth until Rave tells you I'm dead."

"I understand."

Leesa gave him a quick hug. "Thank you, Professor. For everything."

"I wish I could do more," Professor Clerval replied sadly.

"Don't worry about me. I won't suffer long. Not like Bradley would have suffered."

Stefan moved closer. "It's time, Leesa. Let's go."

Leesa looked into his eyes, hoping to see some sign he might change his mind, might release her from their bargain, but saw only the familiar bottomless pools. "Yes... okay," she mumbled. "Go ahead, Professor. There's nothing more you can do here."

Dr. Clerval's face was a mask of anguish. He stared mutely at her for several long seconds, then turned and climbed into the van.

The sound of the door clunking shut was like the sound of a prison door slamming shut behind her. Without really thinking about it, she picked her umbrella up from the ground.

Stefan rested his hand on her forearm. "You'll soon have no need for that. We do not feel the weather."

Leesa turned toward him. "Except for the sun," she said wryly.

Stefan grinned. "Well, there is that, yes." He grabbed both her hands in his. "Are you ready?"

Leesa was anything but ready. How could anyone be ready for what was about to happen? But she had made a deal, and Bradley was now free. She must keep that thought foremost in her mind, must cling to it and let it carry her through the dark days ahead. Glancing toward the van, she saw the professor watching them through the driver's window. She wondered if Bradley was watching as well.

"Not here, Stefan. Not where they can see. Take me into the darkness."

Stefan took her elbow and guided her away from the road. They didn't go far, perhaps a dozen steps into the deserted parking lot—the longest, most difficult steps of Leesa's life. Her bad leg felt like an anchor, dragging heavily through the puddles, as if it were reluctant to let her leave her old life behind. She wondered if she would still limp once she became a vampire, then chastised herself for the ridiculousness of the thought.

Behind them, the van's engine rumbled to life. She listened sadly while the professor let the motor warm. What she wouldn't give to drive away with them, to take Bradley back to her mom and see the joy on her face. But that would never be, Leesa knew. She had made a bargain, and her future, such as it was, was with Stefan. As if to reinforce the thought, his hands gripped her shoulders. She could barely see his face in the blackness. There was no way her brother could see them from the van.

Stefan's pale face inched closer, near enough now that she could see the sharp fangs curving down from his mouth, could feel his frigid vampire breath on her neck. She shivered as his teeth pressed against her throat. Her heart pounded inside her chest and her knees began to grow weak. She felt a brief moment of searing pain as his fangs punctured her skin, then mercifully, consciousness left her.

Leesa awoke slowly. Her first awareness was just that—a simple awareness of being. No details of who or where or what. She was a disembodied spirit, floating in a sea of nothingness. And for a while, that was enough. More than enough, for there was a strange comfort in not knowing. Something deep in the core of her being, some last vestige of herself, told her to hold on to the nothingness, to cling to it, that it was safer, preferable to what might await her. But slowly her consciousness increased, and the comfort faded, replaced by a growing disquiet.

She lay on her back, unable to move—or unwilling to. Unable or unwilling, it didn't really matter. There was no need for movement. She tried to let her mind drift, tried to regain the comfort of not knowing and not caring, but it grew increasingly difficult. Questions began to emerge from the recesses of her awakening brain—simple questions, but questions that pricked at her comfortable complacency. Where was she? How had she come to this state?

With infinite slowness, it began to come back. Fleeting images in her still foggy mind, images that became steadily more clear. Stefan... And Bradley. A thin, unfelt smile moved her lips. She had saved Bradley; she remembered that now. But at a price—a terrible price. For the first time, she noticed the dull ache on the side of her neck.

She reached toward her throat but stopped her fingers just above her skin, afraid of what they would find. How long her fingers hovered there she had no idea, for time still had no meaning to her, but finally she could wait no longer and forced them down to her neck. She gasped when she felt the rough scabs of twin punctures. So it was done. So be it. She prayed that Rave would find her quickly and put an end to her torment.

Opening her eyes, she saw only darkness. She rolled her head from side to side, trying to pierce the blackness, hoping to see something, anything—perhaps a window a bit less dark than the inside of this unknown place. But there was nothing. It had been foolish to expect anything else—the vampire cavern would have no windows, would have little need of light.

She let her eyelids fall closed. Why wake up, when what awaited her was worse than any nightmare? Better to sleep. Better to die—but she could not die, she realized. She could only be destroyed. Mercifully, sleep once again claimed her.

As before, wakefulness came slowly, but as her mind climbed from the depths, she realized something was different now. Instead of blackness, dull purple light flickered behind her eyelids, and she sensed a presence beside her. Her first thought was Stefan had come to claim his prize, but instead of cold, she felt warmth in the air. Warmth that hadn't been there earlier. A familiar and very welcome warmth.

She opened her eyes and found Rave standing beside the bed, his copper hair glinting in the glow of a tall candle he carried in his left hand. Somehow, beyond any hope, he had found her. She smiled weakly up at him. Her ordeal would be over before it had barely begun.

Rave returned her smile and moved his hand toward her throat. Gently, he touched the twin scabs. She felt his heat seep into her wounds. If only he could make them disappear, but she knew he could not. That was beyond even his powers. And even if he could, so what? Healing the wounds would not change what Stefan's bite had done to her. That was something that could never be undone. Nothing but death could undo that—the kind of death only one of Rave's kind could bring to a vampire. The kind of death she would eagerly embrace.

She watched as Rave bent his face toward her, drinking in his handsome features one final time. She closed her eyes just before his lips met hers. Thank you, my love, she thought as her lips parted for a final kiss.

His delicious heat surged through her, reaching every inch of her body, burning into every fiber of her being. She snaked her hands behind his head and pressed his mouth to hers more tightly, trying to draw the full force of his fire even more deeply inside her.

She could think of no better way to die.

34. EXPLANATIONS

It was a bright cold day. Bradley stood next to his mother on the deck of the Harbor Park Restaurant, leaning against the wooden railing and gazing out onto the sun-dappled river. He was bundled up in a dark green down jacket and wore a matching woolen ski cap drawn down over his ears. A week had passed since Leesa rescued him from the vampires, and while he was recovering rapidly, he still felt the cold more than most. Today was his first real outing, after five days spent lying in bed at Professor's Clerval's, warmed by an electric blanket, getting up only to eat and take short walks inside the house. His stay at the professor's was followed by two more days recuperating at Aunt Janet's, where he'd gone for a brief stroll outside with his mom each afternoon. Determined to make the most out of this trip to Middletown, he had insisted they go to the edge of the deck and watch the river before going inside to eat.

"Are you warm enough, Bradley?" Judy asked.

"I'm fine, Mom." He lifted his face toward the sky. "I thought I'd never feel the sun on my face again. It feels so good. I don't think I'll ever get enough of it."

Judy laid her gloved hand atop his. "I know exactly how you feel, dear. I don't think I will, either. We've both spent way too long in darkness."

Bradley watched a gleaming white pleasure boat chug past heading upstream, fighting the stiff current. "I still can't believe what Leesa did for me," he said after a moment.

"She did what she knew you would do, if your places were reversed. You always took care of her, ever since your father left. Lord knows I was no help."

"You had your own burdens, Mom. Which neither of us truly understood. Or believed, I'm sorry to admit."

"Well, your sister saved us both." She patted Bradley's hand. "I'm so proud of her."

"Me, too, Mom. Me, too."

"Is this a private party?" a cheerful voice called from behind them. "Or can anyone join?"

They turned to see a smiling Leesa limping toward them, holding Rave's hand. She was wearing jeans and a bright blue parka. Her head was bare and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a matching blue scrunchy. Underneath the coat, a navy turtleneck hid the scabs on her neck. Rave wore a heavy black and white checked flannel shirt, mostly to ward off any questions about why he wasn't cold.

"Hi, sweetheart," Judy said. "We got here a bit early, so we were enjoying the sunshine and the river."

Leesa gave her mom a warm hug and then embraced Bradley. "How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Pretty darn good, thanks to you." He kissed her forehead. "And I intend to stay that way."

"Then you'd better be a little more careful in your choice of girlfriends," Leesa teased.

Bradley laughed. "Okay, Sis. I promise to get your approval in the future." He let go of Leesa and extended his hand to Rave. "Good to see you again, Rave."

Rave shook Bradley's hand, using his ever-increasing control of his heat—a control Leesa was enjoying very much—to keep his hand from being too warm. He and Leesa had decided against telling her family about his true nature, thinking they'd had enough of supernatural creatures for a while.

"You, too," Rave said. He draped his arm around Leesa's shoulders. "I've never seen Leesa happier, now that you're back."

"Thanks to her," Bradley said.

"I still don't understand what happened," Judy said. "How did you get bitten, Leesa, but not end up as a vampire? Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"I'm not sure I completely understand it, either," Leesa said. "I passed out when Stefan bit me. When I woke up and felt the scabs on my neck, I thought I was a vampire. I should have known better, because I couldn't see anything, and if I'd been turned, I would have been able to see in the dark. But my mind was foggy, and I was feeling kind of hopeless." She leaned her elbows on the railing and gazed out across the river.

"I got the rest of the story from Professor Clerval. He said he had started to drive away when Stefan appeared out of the darkness, carrying me. Stefan told him I had vampire blood in me." She smiled at the irony. "It was the grafhym, Mom. You were pregnant when it bit you, so I got some of its essence. Filtered, but grafhym essence nonetheless. As soon as Stefan tasted the hint of grafhym in me, he stopped. He had no idea what would happen if he continued, but was afraid it would go badly. I don't think he would have taken my blood if he couldn't turn me in any case, but luckily, grafhym blood tastes really sour to a vampire, so he wouldn't have gotten any pleasure from drinking mine. He told the professor he released me from our bargain, and since I had fulfilled my part of the deal, Bradley could remain free as well." She wished she could tell them about Rave's kiss, how she thought it was meant to kill her, and what an exquisitely pleasurable way to die it would have been, but that needed to remain their secret, at least for now. She was lucky Rave had learned so much control. Otherwise, when she'd locked her arms around his head and pulled her mouth tightly against his, it could very well have turned into a fatal kiss.

She straightened up from the railing. "So I guess you could say we owe it all to ol' one-fang. The grafhym started all this, but in the end, it's what saved me."

Judy smiled broadly and hugged her daughter one more time. "I'm not sure I'll ever completely understand, but I'm thankful for the way it turned out." She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a digital camera. "Rave, take a picture of my beautiful children and me, please." She pressed the camera into Rave's hand.

Too startled to pull his hand away in time, Rave stared down at the camera, then looked helplessly at Leesa.

Leesa laughed and plucked the camera from Rave's hand. "You're gonna have to get yourself a new camera, Mom."

A puzzled expression creased her mom's brow. "What do you mean? I just bought that one." She took the camera from Leesa and began fiddling with the buttons.

"Trust me, Mom. You're gonna need a new one."

EPILOGUE

Rave waved as the Taurus pulled out of the parking lot. A smiling Leesa waved back through the rear window. Lunch had been wonderful. The Nylands had been so natural and easy with one another, in a manner he had never seen or experienced among his own people. He loved watching the way they interacted. Even more, he loved seeing Leesa so happy. And Leesa had made sure he felt included in everything. Her mom and Bradley had accepted him completely as Leesa's boyfriend and as a part of the family. They had even teased him good-naturedly about his refusal to ride in the car with them. A pleasant warmth radiated through his chest, and he knew it had nothing to do with his fire.

Only one thing bothered him, one thing that threatened the idyllic future he envisioned for all of them. The brillig and the tove were continuing to strengthen—Destiratu seemed a near certainty. And he knew that could endanger everything.

As Leesa waved at Rave through the car window, she couldn't believe how lucky she was. As a young girl she had dreamed about falling in love, but with her leg and her shyness had never really expected it to happen. And yet it had—with the most awesome guy in the world.

She had her mom and her brother back, and she had Rave. Everything was perfect.

Except that she couldn't shake the feeling that something strange was happening inside her. Something she didn't understand. Something that potentially could be very dangerous....

#####

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**LEESA, RAVE AND STEFAN RETURN IN** _DEATHLESS_ **, BOOK 2 IN THE BLUE FIRE SAGA. PLEASE ENJOY THIS SHORT "SNEAK PEAK" AT** _DEATHLESS._

Leesa and Rave walked back up the long entrance drive. Halfway up the hill, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn't know why, but a sense of impending trouble stole over her as she reached for her cell. She automatically stepped away from Rave, taking no chances his energy would zap the phone. He grinned at her in understanding. Max just looked on curiously.

The screen showed the call was from an unknown caller. Leesa breathed a bit easier. At least the call wasn't from her mom or her brother. Still, she could not shake the feeling that this call meant trouble.

"Hello?" she said.

"Is this Leesa Nyland?" asked an unfamiliar male voice on the other end.

"Yes, it is."

"The Leesa Nyland who was born eighteen years ago in Springfield, New Jersey?"

The alarm bells in Leesa's head really started clanging now. What was this all about? Her fingers began twirling in hair.

"Yeah, that's me," she said cautiously. "Who is this, please?"

Leesa thought she heard a sigh of relief through the phone.

"Leesa, you don't know how glad I am to hear your voice. I've been trying to find you for quite some time. Where do you live now?"

Leesa wasn't sure she should answer that. The caller still had not identified himself. She glanced at Rave and saw he was watching her intently, a concerned look on his face. With his volkaane hearing, she knew he had probably heard every word the guy had spoken.

"Who is this?" she asked again, more forcefully this time.

Never in a million years would she have guessed the words she heard next.

"It's your father, Leesa."

Leesa's jaw dropped. Was it possible? Her father had abandoned her family when she was only seven years old. She had not heard from or of him since. Her fingers danced more rapidly in her hair.

"Dad?"

There was a brief hesitation before the man answered. "No, not him, Leesa. This is your true father."

The phone slipped from Leesa's suddenly lifeless fingers. Max barked once as Rave instinctively reached out to catch it. With his speed, he could have caught it easily, but at the last second he pulled his hand back. If he touched the phone, its circuits would be fried, so he let it crash to the pavement. At least there was a chance the phone would survive the fall. It banged onto the asphalt and bounced into a small puddle beside the driveway.

Leesa bent to pick up it up. She felt like she was moving in slow motion, as if the air had magically developed the viscosity of water. Finally, her fingers closed around the phone and she picked it up. A narrow crack zigzagged through the plastic casing. She wiped the phone on her sweatshirt and then held it to her ear. The cell phone was dead.

Her knees began to feel weak and her head felt like it was spinning. She might have collapsed, but Rave had already enfolded her in his arms. She buried her head against his chest, unsure what to think or do. She barely felt Max rubbing his furry body against the back of her legs.

The man on the other end of the call was named Dominic, though he could not remember the last time anyone had called him that. He stared at the now silent phone in his hand and cursed himself. He should have been less abrupt with his message, should have told her to prepare herself for some shocking news, and to please listen to what he had to say. Instead, he'd been so excited he had bulled ahead with no finesse and taken her by complete surprise, telling her the man she thought was her father was not really her dad, and that he, Dominic, was her true father. That was correct in some ways, in others it was not. She would have difficulty understanding even if he was standing right in front of her trying to explain it—how could he have expected her to comprehend it through an unexpected phone call? He hadn't even gotten the chance to tell her his name. He had heard a noise before the connection was broken, but he didn't know if Leesa had simply hung up on him or if something had happened to her.

He slammed the phone down into its cradle, then looked quickly around to see if anyone had noticed his outburst. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. Dominic was tall and slender, with dark hair speckled with gray that hung fashionably over the collar of a black polo shirt. His neatly trimmed goatee was slightly lighter in color than his hair and came to a sharp point beneath his chin. He appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, but he was older than that—far, far older.

He stood in the lobby of the Springfield Public Library, in front of a bank of three pay phones. It was getting more and more difficult to find working public phones these days, but Dominic had no choice. To say he was "off the grid" would have been putting it far too mildly. He had never been on the grid in the first place. He had no permanent residence, owned no phone and no car, had never possessed a credit card or bank account, or even a driver's license. He had no social security number and paid no taxes. As far as the ordinary world was concerned, Dominic did not exist.

His enemies knew he existed, though, and they were undoubtedly searching for him with as much diligence as he was searching for Leesa. Those enemies were deadly, and they would never quit until they found him. So Dominic needed to remain invisible, even though it compounded the difficulty in finding Leesa. At some point, he might need to risk his anonymity, but not yet. No, not yet.

He was certain his foes had no idea Leesa even existed, and he was going to do all he could to keep it that way. That was why he had disappeared before she was born, and why he stayed far away all these years, resisting the impulse even to check up on her. Staying away completely was the only way he knew to insure her safety, and her safety was more important than anyone could know. She hadn't needed him to be around—not then.

She was going to need him now, though. He had to find her. He had been searching for her for almost a year, starting a few months before her eighteenth birthday. Things were going to start happening to her—puzzling, frightening things—that she would not understand, that she could not understand. Indeed, they may already have started happening. He needed to explain those things to her, and train her how to control them. Especially with the rise of Destiratu.

Destiratu forming at the same time Leesa turned eighteen was something he could never have foreseen, could never have planned for. The magical phenomenon was so rare the chance of the two events happening at the same time had never occurred to him. He was not sure exactly how Destiratu might interact with Leesa's coming of age, but it was another complication, another thing he would have to deal with.

He had not expected finding her to be so difficult. The bond between them should have allowed him to sense her location within a hundred miles, but for some reason, he could not. He wondered if Destiratu had anything to with it, or if it was something else entirely. There was no way for him to know. He had spent months systematically crisscrossing the country, stopping every hundred miles or so and casting his senses outward, seeking her unique vibration, the one that should have resonated with his own, but he had felt nothing. He had grown worried something might have happened to her, some stupid random accident perhaps, and maybe she was dead. At least now he knew she was alive. That was something, at least. Now all he had to do was find her.

Something was preventing his magic from connecting to her, though. Maybe he needed to be closer than he thought. There was just one problem—how do you get closer to someone when you have no idea where they are?

He inserted another bunch of coins into the phone and dialed her number again, anxiously holding his breath while it rang.

Please pick up, he implored silently. Please, please pick up.

The phone rang twice, and then went to a recorded message: "The number you are trying to reach is presently unavailable. Please try again later."

This time, Dominic controlled his frustration and dropped the phone into its cradle more gently. He would do as the voice instructed and try again later, but not from here. Waiting was not in his nature, and there was precious little time to waste. He needed to be on the move, seeking Leesa and avoiding his enemies. The area code for her cell phone was from San Diego. He knew people often kept the same cell number when they moved, so there was no guarantee she still lived in San Diego, but it was all he had to go on. He hurried from the library and boarded a bus that would take him to the train station.

He had no way of knowing he was heading almost three thousand miles in the wrong direction, and what his mistake would cost Leesa.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Scott Prussing was born in New Jersey, but was smart enough to move to beautiful San Diego as soon as he received his Master's degree in psychology from Yale University. Besides writing, Scott enjoys riding his bicycle near the beach, going to the movies, reading books of all sorts, hiking, and golf. He remains one of the few people in the United States without a cell phone.

Learn about Scott's books at http://www.scottprussing.com

You can also follow Scott on Facebook and on Twitter:

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Scott loves to interact with his fans and has placed many of them into his books as characters.

Books by Scott Prussing

The Blue Fire Saga

Breathless (Blue Fire Saga #1)

Deathless (Blue Fire Saga #2)

Helpless (Blue Fire Saga #3)

Fearless (Blue Fire Saga #4)

Heartless (Blue Fire Saga #5)

Restless (Blue Fire Saga #6)

Relentless (Blue Fire Saga #7)

Blue Fire Beginnings (origin short stories)

Blue Fire Heat (erotic short stories)

Stefan (Blue Fire Saga #3.5)

Fantasy novels

Anomaly (dystopian, post-apocalyptic adventure)

Dreams of the Last Born

Mystery/Suspense

Unturned Stones

Tangled Webs

XXX-rated Erotica

Seduction

Surrender

Teen Romance

Mine: A Love Story

Damian's Oracle (War of Gods #1)

By

Lizzy Ford

CHAPTER ONE

Sofia dropped her purse on the desk in her cube without removing her sunglasses. The early December sun couldn't set fast enough to prevent her pounding headache from growing worse on her drive to work. To ease her exposure to the sun, she'd volunteered for the evening shift to support the West Coast customers. Unfortunately, the commute to work every day was still excruciating.

"So... did the doc say you're turning into a vampire?" Jake, her ex-boyfriend from college and current coworker, appeared in the doorway of her cube as soon as she sat down. She ignored the hunk, hoping he'd take the hint. "I brought you something. You can pretend it's blood." He held out a bottle of red water.

"You have five minutes to leave my cube, or I'll bite _your_ neck!" she retorted.

"Really, what'd the doc say?" Jake grew serious and sat in the spare chair in her cube.

Sofia rubbed her temples. She was better off pulling a random diagnosis out of a hat.

"No brain tumors," she replied. "Probably not the neurological issue they thought. They're looking at other ideas."

"Do they know what makes you allergic to light and eat raw steaks covered in peanut butter for every meal?"

"They're not raw, and I only eat them for dinner."

"Did the doc explain your mood swings, too?"

She gritted her teeth. She'd known Jake since her junior year of college. They dated in college, parted ways mutually, and ended up working for the same financial planning firm in Virginia. Normally, she felt privileged that he still gave her the time of day, what with the way he'd turned out—formed like a Greek god with hazel eyes so pretty their boss swooned every time she spoke to him. But today, she didn't want to be reminded that she'd changed from a normal human being into a sunlight-intolerant, moody bitch in the two months since her twenty-fourth birthday.

"Think you can talk the boss into letting me come in an hour or two later?" she asked.

"Yeah, easy. I just smile pretty. Doesn't work on you, but it does on her."

"Thanks, Jake. The headaches are getting worse."

"Sofi, I'm worried," he said, softening. "What's going on?"'

"The doctors don't know," she said with a sigh. "They're flying in a specialist from overseas. They said it might be some sort of rare blood disorder."

"What the hell does that mean? That they really don't have a clue?"

"Pretty much."

" _I_ Googled your symptoms," Jake said and unfolded a piece of paper. "A lot of bullshit posted by wannabe vampires and _Twilight_ fans. But I found this, too."

He waved the page in front of her.

"This is fruit punch, by the way," he said, nudging the bottle of red water toward her. "Your favorite, right?"

"I don't remember telling you that."

"Anyway, among the wacko postings, I found this site." He pointed on the page to reveal a link to a website with a single name and phone number written on it.

Damian Bylun.

"What is this?" she asked, taking the paper from him.

Jake wiped his mouth the way he did when he'd admitted to cheating on her four years ago. She lifted her sunglasses to squint at him.

"It's a blog this doctor guy keeps. In it, he describes what you're going through."

"For real?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"How did you find it? I spent days surfing the net. Even Tanya tried to help."

"Aw well, you and your best friend just aren't as good as The Jake. She's still a bitch, by the way," Jake said.

Sofia rolled her eyes. He'd never gotten over her friend refusing to date him after she dumped him. Jake's ego was as large as his size sixteen feet.

"What does he say my symptoms are from?"

"I don't know. His blog is firewalled from here, though, so you should just call him."

_Damian Bylun._ It struck a chord deep within her, as if she should know it. Struck by something else, she removed her sunglasses and eyed Jake, saying,

"You know, you haven't spoken to me more than to say hello in two years. I haven't been able to get you out of my cube for the past two weeks. What's up with that, Jake?"

"I've been doing a lot of soul searching and am just trying to... be a better person," he said with a nervous chuckle and rubbed his mouth again.

She could almost see him standing before his mirror practicing the line before going to the bars to pick up chicks. But whatever he was hiding couldn't be that important.

"I'll look at this later," she said. "Go forth and leave me be, The Jake. Leave the punch."

"Sofia, I really think you should call this guy," he said, looking her in the eye. "Please."

A sense of uneasiness ran through her at the gravity in his normally light tone.

"Fine, I will."

He flashed a smile and strode from her cube. Sofia looked at the paper again. She retrieved her cell and tucked the paper into her pocket. Snatching her sunglasses, she almost made it to the door before she heard Lacy's voice.

"Sofia, can you come see me?"

She grimaced and turned to see the tall blond striding toward her office. Lacy wore a skirt too short and tight for office wear, but when you're the boss...

"I noticed you've been taking a lot of sick time lately," Lacy said as Sofia entered the room.

"Yeah, I'm having some issues," Sofia replied.

"Jake told me. HR passed it to upper management. I need you to bring in some sort of paperwork from your doctor stating what's wrong."

"They don't know what's wrong. I can bring you another one of the notes verifying that's where I am when I'm missing work."

"What do you mean? They're doctors," Lacy said, looking up from the memo in her hands. "Of course they know what's wrong. And those notes aren't good enough."

"They really don't know," Sofia said again.

"I can't make reasonable accommodations for you if I don't know what's wrong."

"That makes no sense, Lacy. If I have a doctor's note saying I'm under their care, isn't that good enough until they figure it out?"

Lacy arched a delicate eyebrow.

"No, it's not," she snapped. "I need a diagnosis, and I need a treatment plan."

"A _what_?"

"You deaf now, too?"

Sofia bit her tongue. She lacked Jake's golden tongue, and her bluntness had gotten her in trouble more than once. Normally she acquiesced in favor of a paycheck, but Lacy's demand was bizarre, even by Lacy-standards.

"Look, Lacy, I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm so frustrated right now. I just came back from a battery of tests that said nothing's wrong with me." The moment the words left her mouth, she knew her mistake. Lacy's eyebrows shot up.

"What do you mean there's nothing wrong? Are you making this up?" her boss demanded.

"No, Lacy, what I meant is that whatever is wrong—"

"So you're a basket case. One of those aphrodisiacs or something."

"Hypochondriac, not aphro—"

"I meant, you're making it up!" Lacy snarled. "Aphro, hypo, who gives a damn. They're the same thing! You've been lying to me!"

"No, Lacy—"

"You've been lying to Jake, too. He's been worried sick! Oh my God, what—"

"Lacy, stop!" Sofia snapped, standing. "I haven't lied to you. They don't know what's wrong, and I'm not making it up!"

"You've always thought yourself _soooo_ much better than the rest of us, and I'm sick of your attitude. Now you're lying to me about being sick. You know what? Until you can prove you've got some damn disease, you're on leave without pay."

Stunned, Sofia stared at her.

"Lacy, I'm—"

"Shut up and get the fuck out!"

Surprise, then fury, lit her insides.

"Fine," she said, wrenching the office door open. "But Lacy, everyone knows you're screwing Jake."

Lacy's mouth dropped open. Dimly, Sofia knew she'd never work there again after that low blow. She snatched her bag and hurried home, not reflecting on her behavior until she tossed her coat on the bed.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Her cell rang. She dug it out of her pocket.

"Hey, Tanya," she said, kicking off her shoes. "What's up?"

"Hey, hon, Jake told me you quit work?"

"Jake?" she echoed.

"He's still a dick. You're not seeing him again, are you?"

"Tanya, I have a headache. I'll call you later."

Sofia hung up, frustrated. She emptied her pockets and tossed her lunch in the fridge. When she retreated to the bathroom, she flipped on the light, cringed, but forced herself to stare at her reflection in the mirror over the sink.

She was going to die. She just knew it. Whatever her disease, it had eluded the doctors for months. By the time they found out what it was, she'd probably be near dead, like stage four cancer. She stared at her reflection, caught by something else that didn't seem right. She leaned forward, staring at her irises. Her favorite feature, her eyes, had always been a pretty shade of turquoise. But instead of a rim of darker blue surrounding her irises, they were rimmed by a thick band of iridescent silver.

"Oh my God," she whispered. As she stared, the silver seemed to flare into a deep glow and swirl around her irises like cars around a racetrack. She closed her eyes and opened them again. The silver was still there. "Hallucinations!"

She ran to her desk and pulled out a journal, jotting down her latest symptom.

Sensitivity to light, enhanced hearing so I can't sleep without noise cancellation headphones, aversion to fish, crave meat and broccoli, nails growing faster, HEADACHES, HEADACHES, HEADACHES, stuffy nose, addiction to peanut butter, weight loss, general weakness...

The strange symptoms went on for three pages. She read the list until panic stirred in her breast. Claustrophobic in the dark cave that had become her home, she grabbed her coat and purse and set out into the cold, brisk evening. She didn't want to die, and she didn't want to spend the rest of her life without ever seeing the sun again like Brad Pitt in _Interview with the Vampire_.

She joined crowds of people milling through downtown Crystal City to see the Christmas displays and shop. The sight of such normalcy calmed her, until someone brushed against her.

_A man's face, a woman in the hospital on her death bed, their children surrounding them_.

"I'm so sorry!" someone said, steadying her as she staggered under the impact of the sudden image. Her vision cleared, and she looked into the face of the man from her vision, though he was much younger standing before her.

"I'm okay," she said, forcing a smile. "Thanks."

He continued on his way, holding out his hand to the woman awaiting him. The same woman who would die in twenty-three years from ovarian cancer.

_More hallucinations. Nothing more,_ she told herself. Sofia shrugged the sense of foreboding away and stuffed her hands into her pockets. Her fingers brushed the folded paper Jake had given her. She pulled it free, once again compelled to stare at the name written there. She made her way to a coffee shop and sat at a table in the darker end of the shop, hot cocoa in hand. Someone careened into her as she pried her cell from her pocket.

"Cody, watch where you're going!" a mother scolded the little boy sprawled on the floor.

Sofia reached for him, helping him to his feet.

Cody, sprawled in the middle of the street after being hit by a car, blood trickling from his skull into a nearby storm drain. His dark eyes open and staring.

"Sorry about that," the young mother said, flashing a smile.

"No problem." Sofia blinked out of her stupor. Yet another symptom of her illness: insanity! She looked again at the name on the paper and dialed.

"This is Sondra. How may I direct your call?" a pleasant voice answered.

"Um, hi, I, uh, found this number on Dr. Bylun's blog. I'm not sure he can help me, but I would really like to speak to him."

"We have a _Mr_. Bylun, but he doesn't have a blog. Perhaps you have the wrong number?"

"Okay, I admit someone else said they found this on his blog and said I should call," Sofia said. There was a moment of silence, and she could almost see Sondra assessing what to do.

"Why don't you leave me your name, and if Mr. Bylun believes it in his best interest, he'll return your call." The cryptic response made her hesitate. Sofia sighed and raked a hand through her hair.

"Why not. I don't have anything to lose. My name is Sofia Fast from Crystal City, Virginia."

"And what is your call regarding?" Sondra asked.

"I'm sick. I have some sort of disease no one can diagnose, and one of my coworkers gave me this number to try."

"Who referred you?"

"Jake Hampton." She heard the secretary typing.

"I'm afraid he's not in my system," Sondra said. "I'll deliver your message. Please don't be surprised if Mr. Bylun opts not to return your call."

Sofia hung up and stared at the number on the paper, wondering if Jake had lied to her or if he flat out screwed up the number. He really wasn't a man of detail, which was why she was so surprised to see him working as a financial planner. She'd definitely never trust her money to him. Her cell rang, and she recognized her doctor's number.

"Ms. Fast, this is Linda from Dr. Mallard's office," an older woman's voice said.

"Hi Linda."

"Dr. Mallard wanted me to give you a call and schedule an appointment for tomorrow morning, first thing."

"Oh, God, what's wrong now?" Sofia exclaimed and balled up her free hand into a fist until her nails bit into flesh.

"The specialist he flew in from Zurich arrives tonight. He's apparently really interested in meeting you."

"Really? I'd love to come in. What time do you open?"

"Seven. I'll schedule you for seven-fifteen so Dr. Mallard can get his first cup of coffee," Linda said.

"That's awesome, Linda. Thank you so much for calling!"

"No problem. We'll see you tomorrow at seven-fifteen."

Hopeful, Sofia crumpled up the paper with Dr. Bylun's information. If Dr. Mallard's international guest was that anxious to see her, he must know what was going on! She sipped her cocoa, cheered by the thought of soon knowing what was wrong with her.

The sound of screeching tires and a scream drew the patrons from the coffee shop to the window. Sofia stuffed Dr. Bylun's paper into her empty cup, tossed it, and joined the onlookers lining the street. Somewhere a few blocks away, an ambulance wailed. A drunk man staggered from a dark blue BMW. She walked up the street to a better vantage point, curious to see what he hit.

She froze at the sight straight out of her vision—the little boy, Cody, spread-eagled in the street near the storm drain. His mother was hysterical, screaming at once at the driver and her dead son. Coldness seeped through her as she watched the familiar scene before her. In the distance, she heard her cell phone ring. It ceased and began to ring again. As if in a dream, she pulled it free and answered.

"Ms. Fast?" The deep baritone voice pierced her thoughts. "This is Damian Bylun. You left a message with my receptionist?"

Her world was beginning to spin as she realized her vision had come true. Her legs felt weak, and she sat heavily on the curb, struggling to control her breathing so she didn't pass out.

God, what's wrong with me? I saw him die...

"Pardon?"

Realizing she clenched the phone in her hand, she locked the screen and sat staring at the asphalt. Someone touched her, and visions flared across her mind. _A pretty brunette, mugged in a back alley, raped and killed._

"Hey, are you all right?" someone else asked. As the man took her arm to help her stand, his haggard face appeared in yet another vision. _An older man with dementia left to rot and finally die in an old folks' home._

"Get away from me!" she cried, tearing her arm away. She fled, staggering as she bumped into more people and more visions flashed. She ran until the cold air burned her lungs and the people were far behind her. She retreated to her apartment, breathing raggedly, with cold tears stiffening her cheeks.

She closed and locked the door behind her. She froze when she saw the disaster that was her apartment. Everything was overturned or shredded, from the furniture to the bookshelves to the TV lying on its face. The windows were open and the apartment cold.

Her headache was now a migraine, and she shielded her eyes against the light from the street that filtered past her honeycomb blinds. She all but staggered into her bathroom. She wrenched open the medicine cabinet for the most powerful of the drugs Dr. Mallard prescribed for her and slammed the cabinet shut.

Her eyes were fully silver, swirling and glowing in the dark bathroom.

" _What is wrong with me?"_ she screamed, slamming her fists against the mirror.

Her blood spattered on the wall, and buzzing filled her ears. She sank to the floor. Her phone began to ring again as she slid into a dead faint.

CHAPTER TWO

Sonoran Desert, Arizona

The White God's Headquarters

Damian Bylun stared at the phone. It was a cold day in hell when someone dared hang up on the White God, the Defender of Mankind, the Tamer of Evil. Or, in the words of his closest friends, the BS Master of the Universe.

His phone rang, and he answered, expecting the woman to return his call with a few dozen apologies.

"Damian, I'm one of your... employees. My name is Jake H, employee number 0092841."

Damian opened his PDA to do a quick search on the number. He didn't know the names of everyone in the latest generation of his Guardians yet, especially not those working in the field.

_Jake H. Organization year: 2000._ Only his undercover agents contained such little information in his database. Jake was risking getting caught to call him.

"Where are you?" Damian asked.

"NOVA Sector HQ."

"Stay there." Damian hung up and looked at his executive officer and sparring partner. "Han, I'm going away for a few to the Northern Virginia Sector. Don't hold up dinner on my account." Han nodded, and Damian trotted into the 20,000-square-foot mansion in the middle of the Arizona desert he called home.

"Say hi to Laney!" Han called.

Damian waved to show he'd heard and then took the stairs two at a time to his room. He changed into all black and strapped a sword to his back before closing his eyes and envisioning the interior of NOVA Sector. In a blink, he'd Traveled there. One foot was immediately soaked. He looked down as two of his Guardians hopped up from their positions.

"Who the hell put a pool here?" he demanded, pulling his right foot out of the shallow end of an in-ground pool. The two Guardians looked at each other, neither certain how to respond.

"It was a brutal summer," an amused voice said. Han's brother Laney, one of Damian's oldest Guardians and the station chief for NOVA sector, leaned in the doorway to the main house with a smile.

Damian walked over to him. "Laney, good to see you," he said warmly, clapping him on the arm. "One of your boys called me."

"Yeah, he's been pacing like a madman for a couple of hours. He's a newbie. Be gentle."

"It's fucking cold here," he complained as he walked into the two-story house in suburban Washington, DC.

He saw the man who had called him pacing as Laney had indicated. Jake turned and stared at him, dropped an awkward bow, and straightened, his mouth lax. Damian sat down on the arm of a leather couch, accustomed to the reaction, and pulled off his boot to drain the water.

"You gonna talk or stare?" he challenged. Jake looked at Laney, then at him.

"I found someone," Jake said.

"A Natural?" Laney prodded.

"I don't know what she is. I was embedded at this company we know is operating as a cover for Czerno's operations. I ran into someone I knew from college," Jake said and began to pace again, half-lost in his thoughts as he spoke. "She's something. I don't know what."

"Can you expand a little on that statement?" Laney asked.

"She's started having symptoms that the doctors can't figure out what's wrong. She turned twenty-four two months ago and started having all these issues, like she's a vamp. She can't go out in sunlight..." Jake trailed off, deep in thought. "You're going to think I'm crazy—"

"Already do," Damian said. "You wanna tell me why I'm here? Where are you even working? Your file was locked."

"I'm a plant at a front company we know one of Czerno's most trusted lieutenants uses to launder money," Jake said. "I recently gained access to this database that the company's owner uses. I was looking for Czerno's bank accounts, but I found this bizarro file on her instead. Her phone and computer are monitored. They have records of her vitals—like her body temperature and shit like that—and copies of her medical records. I found an email the owner sent to an email address we know Czerno uses. It says they want to force the transformation."

"She's a Natural," Laney said, frowning at him. "Treat her like any other. We'll assign her a Guardian and bring her in."

"No," Jake objected. "The email said she'd be ready soon for the procedure Czerno wants her to undergo. A medical procedure where he's going to drain all her blood and replace it with his."

Damian held up his hand. He'd begun to think their recruitment standards were slipping until Jake mentioned the operation. Surprise trickled through him. He recognized the procedure but hadn't heard of it being used since before his brother, Darian, had died thousands of years ago.

"What else did the file say?" he pressed.

"Nothing really. Just said he wanted it done soon because he wasn't taking any risks, even if she hadn't started transforming yet. I gave her your number, but I doubt she called."

Only an _Oracle_ 's blood was drained to force her to bind with her master. The measure was taken to give him unfettered access to her visions. Century-long wars had been fought in Damian's father's time over who claimed a discovered Oracle, no matter how competent the Oracle turned out. He met Laney's gaze.

"It's virtually impossible." Laney voiced his same thought.

"There haven't been any in tens of thousands of years," Damian said slowly. "What else, Jake?"

"That's it. I just have this feeling..." Jake said, his face troubled.

"You have a Traveler assigned to station, Laney?" Damian asked. Most stations had one of the Guardians—or Naturals—capable of Traveling great distances the way he did, by using magic to slip through space and time and end up elsewhere. Laney lifted his chin toward Jake, who nodded. "Watch her. If anything funny happens, bring her in, straight to my headquarters outside of Tucson. Don't take any chances with this one. Got it?"

Jake nodded again.

"Laney, tell Dustin what's going on. He gets pissy when you all call me directly without letting him know," Damian said.

"Will do."

Damian closed his eyes and opened them, materializing in his suite in Tucson. He stood before the low-burning fire, golden eyes swirling as he thought quickly.

A few Naturals were found every year, and he didn't bother to remember their names in an organization his size, leaving that level of detail to his most trusted men, the two regional commanders, and dozens of sector commanders worldwide. An Oracle... now _that_ was worthy of his attention. There had been none since Claire, whose powers had been so weak, she couldn't even be blood bound. The last blood-bound Oracle was Damian's mother, who went mad soon after his birth.

_He who binds the Oracle, binds the future_ , his brother had once told him. His phone dinged and drew him from his thoughts. A text popped up.

Bro, ur supposed 2 tell me when u visit.

Damian grunted, expecting Dusty's message. His regional commanders were the only two people in the world who would challenge him: the cold master assassin in charge of the western hemisphere and the warm master negotiator in charge of the eastern hemisphere. As different as night and day, they were his adopted brothers—and the only men in the universe he trusted with his life. Of the two, Dusty was more likely to call him to the floor when he crossed into his business. As their king, Damian owed them nothing. As his adopted brothers in the war against evil, the two of them were his equals.

He typed a response. _Next time, boss._

He left his room for his office. The quarterly conference held four times a century with the highest ranking station commanders was coming up soon, and he had more pressing issues to resolve before it launched. He entered his office and froze, sensing the presence of the otherworldly being.

"Y'all need to learn to _ask_ before setting foot in my house," he warned.

The middle-aged man with bright green eyes standing in his study looked harmless. His frame was slight, his hair silvered, his smile fatherly. Damian knew better than to trust the deceptive appearance of this type of creature. They were some of the most ancient beings in the universe, those whose first war drove immortals out of their world and created the mortal world.

Their second war almost destroyed the mortal world and ended in the Schism, the divorcing of the divine world from the physical one. They stranded the White and Black Gods on earth, preordained to be at each other's throats for all eternity. The Watchers then relegated themselves to the role of a benevolent audience in the bloody basketball game that was Damian's war.

"Forgive me, _ikir_ ," the Watcher said with a bow of his head.

"You're here to fuck up my life, aren't you?" Damian challenged. He crossed his arms to display roped forearms and sat on the edge of his desk.

"I've always enjoyed this era of the White God," the Watcher said and smiled, genuine mirth in his unblinking gaze. "You have a spark your forefathers didn't."

"I'm glad I entertain you," Damian said flatly.

"No disrespect meant, _ikir_." The Watcher's eyes went around his study, as if this was his first visit in a great while. Damian didn't trust the beings that saw all, knew all, and yet spoke in riddles—if they chose to speak at all.

"You here just to visit?" he prodded at the Watcher's silence.

"No, _ikir_. I will be in your territory for some time."

The words were the first sign of something very, very wrong. Damian's unease grew.

"There is a disturbance in the uh, basketball game, as you call it," the Watcher said. "One of the teams is cheating."

"Czerno. How bad is it?"

"Bad enough to change the final score."

Damian mulled his words, waiting for more.

"There are Watchers who have left the crowd for Czerno's team. They're coaching him," the Watcher said softly.

"Damn," Damian breathed. "The last time y'all fought, you nearly destroyed the universe."

"Our war has again spread to yours," the Watcher acknowledged. "I am bound by the oath of non-interference I took at the Schism. I, too, can only... coach, though I will choose when and where."

"So I shouldn't be surprised to see you in my territory, and I shouldn't expect shit from you," Damian surmised.

"Yes, _ikir_."

"How long will you be coaching in my territory?"

"It may be awhile by earth standards. Those coaching Czerno are shifting the future daily."

Damian hadn't expected his day to be so eventful. If the Watchers were once again bringing their battle to earth, it meant the Original Beings imprisoned by the Schism were stirring up old divisions again. He was too young to know much about those beings or much about the Watchers. Jule, the regional commander for the eastern hemisphere and the oldest of the three of them by far, had come from the same world as the Watchers but refused to talk about it.

"That is all I will say, _ikir_ , except to remind you that the White and Black Gods cannot kill one another directly. To do so would release the Original Beings, and then things would really be bad."

Damian's jaw clenched. He didn't often feel helpless, not when he held the powers of a god among humans. But Watchers played on a different level. He was restricted to the physical world by the Schism despite his god-powers. By and large, the Watchers did whatever the hell they wanted. That this one had come to him with a warning was the most he could expect.

"By your leave, _ikir_ ," the Watcher said and bowed his head again.

"Try not to screw up too much of my shit," Damian returned.

The Watcher nodded and disappeared in a wink of light.

First a possible Oracle, then a Watcher. He had a feeling the war was just starting to get interesting. Damian crossed to his window and gazed out at the setting sun. Chances were, things were about to get ugly.

*

The next morning, Sofia awoke stiff and cold on the bathroom floor. Her apartment was cold, and sunlight streamed through the blinds, making her head pound harder.

"Oh god, Sofia!" Jake's voice came from the doorway of the bathroom. "I've been trying to call..." His voice trailed off as he took in her bloodied hands and the pills scattered all over the bathroom floor. "You tried to kill yourself!"

"No, Jake," she mumbled and pushed herself up. She sat on her knees for a long moment. Jake reached for her, and she recoiled. "Don't touch me!"

"I've gotta get you to the hospital!" he said, grabbing her arm.

The visions started. _Jake cleaved in two by a maniacal man with a sword. S_ he shoved him away, landing hard on her backside while he careened into the bathroom wall.

"No, Jake. Leave me be!" She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her face from the light. She shivered from cold and pain. He brought her a blanket and draped it over her. "Jake, something is really wrong with me."

"No, really?" he retorted. "Did you call Dr. Bylun or not?"

"He didn't want to talk to me."

"Even when you told him your issues?" he asked, disappointed.

"I couldn't get past his secretary." She saw Cody's broken body again in her mind and pushed it away. Every vision she'd had, even when Jake touched her, had been of death.

"That's strange. He should've called you."

Her phone rang, and she saw Dr. Mallard's number flash on the screen.

"Hi Linda," she murmured.

"Sofia, this is Dr. Mallard. We were expecting you at seven-fifteen."

She glanced at her watch. It was nine. "I'm sorry, doc. I overslept."

"It's important Dr. Czerno sees you this morning. Can you come in?" he asked.

"No, no, my eyes are too sensitive."

"Why don't we do an old-fashioned house call and come to you?"

"Well..." She hesitated, surprised at his persistence. She could see a shredded couch cushion and broken glass in the hallway outside the bathroom door and recalled the shape her apartment was in. "Doc, I'll come in tomorrow. I'm not having a good morning."

"Hon, this is important. Dr. Czerno believes you'll begin to have more symptoms soon, ones that might indicate the disease is accelerating."

"Symptoms, like what?"

"Hallucinations. Paranoia. Sense of doom."

"Doc, I..." She couldn't bring herself to tell him about the visions.

"Here, let me put you on with Dr. Czerno." There was the sound of a phone being shuffled from one person to another, then a flat, deep male voice.

"Sofia, this is Dr. Czerno. It's imperative you see me at the earliest opportunity."

"Doc, what's wrong with me?" she asked.

"I can explain in detail in person, but it's important I see you now." There was something about his tone—flat and free of human warmth like the talking computer her blind coworker used—that made her uneasy.

"I'll be in when I can, doc," she murmured. "Can you tell me what other symptoms I might have?"

"Have you experienced any of the symptoms Dr. Mallard described?"

"Yes."

"And more?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about them," he ordered.

_No._ Her instincts were restless, and every fiber in her body warned her not to respond.

"I'll come see you right away," she said, suspecting this alone would pacify him.

"Very good. I will be here. How far out are you?"

"About an hour."

"I will see you soon. And Sofia, I don't appreciate being stood up." There was a warning note in his voice that made her more uncomfortable. She hung up. Her last hope for understanding what was wrong with her was someone she innately knew she didn't want to meet.

"Who was that? Dr. Bylun?" Jake asked hopefully, reappearing in the bathroom doorway.

"No. Dr. Mallard. He flew in a specialist," she responded, pulling the blanket over her head to shield her further from the sunlight. "I don't think I like him."

"I thought Dr. Mallard was the only doctor you hadn't fired yet."

"Not him. The specialist. He sounds like he's from Russia. His name is Dr. Cicero. Or Zirno. Or something."

"Czerno?" Jake asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, that's it. You heard of him?"

Jake was so quiet, she thought he left until he spoke again.

"Sofia, will you come with me somewhere?"

"Not during daylight." If not for the painful sunlight, she would've looked up at the hushed note in his voice. Her body was beginning to ache more, from her battered hands to her bruised cheek from when she'd fallen after fainting the night before. A deeper ache, as if she had the flu and every muscle in her body was on fire, was made worse by sleeping on the cold floor. She was in pain she didn't understand. A tear trickled down her cheek.

She'd never been moody or wimpy or weak! In high school and college, she played co-ed soccer and basketball. Since leaving college, she'd stayed in shape through the local gym, where she lifted weights and forced herself onto a cardio machine twice a week. She wasn't in tip-top shape, but she wasn't _weak_!

"What the hell happened to your apartment?"

"I don't know."

"Are you going to get up?"

"No."

"You've always been so fucking stubborn. I'm trying to help you!"

She hurt too much to move. If she were perfectly still, she could deal with the pain.

"You want something to drink?"

Her head ached too much to respond. He returned a few minutes later and rustled her blanket, setting a cup beside her.

She drank the cool fruit punch, grateful as it chilled her parched throat. She soon felt relaxed and drowsy. When her phone rang again, she stretched for it and found she couldn't move.

"Sorry, Sofi, but I'm taking you somewhere safe," Jake's voice warbled. "You gotta trust me."

*

Jake watched her slump again and rubbed his mouth nervously. He snatched her phone as he squatted beside her and tossed it in the sink above their heads, stretching to turn on the water. He wasn't sure how well Czerno was tracking her, but the Black God's men had grown daring enough to tear apart her apartment. It wouldn't be long before they came for her.

He lifted her and carried her to her bedroom, finding a spot on the bed that had avoided being shredded or covered with junk from her dressers. He quickly changed her out of her clothes and into one of his own long T-shirts, fearing her clothing would be bugged. He dialed Laney as he moved around her room.

"Yeah," Laney's gruff voice came over the Bluetooth.

"I'm bringing in a package."

"The one D's looking for?"

"Yeah."

"You heard him—ship it to Tucson," Laney instructed him. "She willing to go?"

Jake looked over at her still body, feeling somewhat guilty. Normally, Guardians were supposed to ease the transition of Naturals into their organization. However, he didn't have time to convince someone as stubborn as Sofi to do anything, and Czerno wouldn't wait for her to decide to go with Jake.

"More or less," he answered.

"Don't tell me. I don't wanna know," Laney said. "Take her there. Han knows you're coming."

"Thanks, boss," Jake said. "She's uh, a little bit asleep. Can you just let him know she's not really in any shape to meet D yet?"

"Yeah, sure," Laney said with a smoky chuckle. "Get outta here, kid."

"We're gone," Jake said with a grunt as he lifted her again. Laney hung up. Jake drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and disappeared.

*

White God's Headquarters

Damian sat in his office before the computer, glancing between the instant messaging boxes popping up on one computer screen and the geospatial depiction of the past hundred years' worth of battles between his Guardians and the Black God's vamps on another screen.

"D, you coming down for the festivities? It's pretty interesting. They're acting out some bizarre kid's story for the cancer kids," Han said, ducking his head into the office.

"No. Talking to Dusty and Jule," he answered without turning. "Save me some cake."

"Sure."

"The girl still sleeping?"

"She'll be out for a while. Jake gave her enough that she should sleep for another day or so," Han answered.

"All right." Damian returned his interest to the displays, and Han closed the door softly. Dusty, can you hear me?"

Dustin typed _yes._

"What the fuck's wrong with your mic?" Jule, the regional commander of the eastern hemisphere, demanded with a laugh.

Don't know. IT issues.

"At least it's just IT," Jule responded, growing serious. At the pause, Damian knew they were all looking at the geospatial depiction. His gaze roved over Jule's European front. It was slowly being decimated and fragmented by Czerno's blood-sucking vamps.

"You've got a rat," he said, reviewing the past hundred years of battles depicted on the map. To humans, it would look like the natural give and take of a long battle. To the three of them, the drastic changes that occurred over such a short time span after thousands of years of no change were a warning sign.

_Or more than one_ , Dusty typed.

"I think Dusty's right," Damian agreed. "You've got more than one rat to worry about."

"I have Antoine under surveillance. I have no leads on anyone else," Jule replied. "Thanks to Antoine, my spy network is shit right now. I'm rebuilding as fast as I can, but it ain't easy finding new Guardians, let alone those who make good agents."

"Discretion isn't a natural trait to Guardians," Damian said.

_Just like their supreme leader_ , typed Dusty.

"What'd you do to him, D?" Jule asked. "He's been cranky all night."

"Chill, Dusty, it's not that serious," Damian answered.

_An Oracle????? Not serious? Are you fucking insane?_ Dusty ended his message with a string of angry emoticons. Damian could feel his ire through the screen.

"It's not confirmed."

"Wow. Why didn't you tell him?" Jule scolded. "In fact, why didn't you tell me?"

"I just found out!" Damian snapped. "One of Dusty's newbies called me. If one of our guys calls, I'll go. They usually need something—they don't call just to chat. When someone gives me some more definitive info on her, I'll tell you."

"Anyway, back to my concern," Jule said. Damian knew if they had video chat, he'd see Jule rolling his eyes. "I'm out of ideas for dealing with my traitor issue, unless Dusty can send a few spies my way."

I'm short, but I'll send you a couple on loan. Want me to talk to Antoine?

"Cool, bro, thanks. Fuck no on talking to Antoine. I need him alive and preferably in one piece, Dusty, unlike the last time I sent someone to talk to you."

"I'll come to Europe after the Quarterly with some reinforcements," Damian offered. "We may need to make a couple of less-than-discreet strikes at Czerno's strongholds to push him back and give us some time. Can you hold things down for two weeks?"

"I'll do my damndest," Jule replied. "Hey—is it just me or is recruiting getting harder and harder?"

Definitely.

"Yeah. I think our traitors have some influence on that, too. I'm getting reports from the recruitment team that a lot of their newly flagged Guardians are getting whacked as soon as they make the list," Damian said.

_Ask Claire what's going on,_ Dusty typed with a smiley face.

Damian grimaced, recalling the last time he'd seen the beautiful woman, his slain brother's wife. They never got any work accomplished when she was with him. They'd had a falling out a few hundred years before and hadn't spoken since. He wanted to keep it that way. Sleeping with her made him feel... guilty, like he was betraying his brother's memory. Yet, she was all that remained of his brother, and he cherished the connection. He preferred to know she was alive and well—and somewhere else.

"I'll assume by your silence you're still not talking," Jule said.

"Nope."

I'll give her a call. Maybe she can come to the Quarterly.

"Fuck you, Dusty," Damian said acidly.

"Damn women," Jule said. "I don't know why they say you can't live without them. I'm doing quite well."

Damian snorted, gaze lingering on the map. Something was really wrong in Europe, and he needed to figure out what, before the European front was overrun by vamps. His thoughts returned to the Watcher, and he wondered just how many of his problems were caused by traitors influenced somehow by the beings coaching Czerno. With any luck, his Watcher wouldn't fail him.

His phone rang. He glanced at the number and let it go to voicemail, not recognizing it.

"I've got two rotating to Tucson," Jule said. "They're en route. I want Han, though, D. You promised."

"I know, I know. He's sick of it here anyway."

A crash came from the hallway. By the sound of it, it was one of his favorite, _priceless,_ Ming vases. With his luck, the kids were loose in the house. Irritated by the mention of Claire and the idea of his collectibles being destroyed, he snatched his phone to call for Han.

"Dusty, can you—"

A scream jarred him.

_WTF?_ Dusty typed.

"What he said," Jule echoed. "Everything—"

A second scream. Damian rose. His door flew open to reveal a huge, furry monster with fangs.

"What the fuck is going on? And why are you dressed like a sadistic teddy bear?" Damian demanded.

"You need to see this, D." The Guardian's muffled voice grew louder as he pulled the head off the costume. By his tone, something was more wrong than the horrible costume.

"Guys, we'll talk later. D out," he said into the mic before tossing it on the desk. "This better be good."

CHAPTER THREE

The in-between place where Jake's drugs put her were filled with horrifying visions of Cody and other strangers dying while Dr. Czerno screamed at her to return to him in his inhuman computer voice.

And _him._ Another... thing... had entered her nightmare and taken over. The dark monster sat in a dark corner of her mind and sobbed so loud, she thought them real. Once, she heard him call for help. She'd stepped near him in her dream, until he swiped at her, and she tried to free a scream from her frozen body. He retreated to the corner and sobbed while she fought the effects of the drug. The drug wore off, leaving her in a dark fog, hot and sweating with a different kind of headache, the kind she got after taking a lot of Dr. Mallard's drugs. Groggily, she couldn't remember taking drugs. She'd been drinking fruit punch when she felt drowsy.

Jake.

Furious, Sofia pushed off the bed coverings and stood, teetering dangerously before deciding to sit again. Moonlight drifted in through a window, and she stared in confusion. Her window was on the other side of her room. Disoriented, she stood up again and stumbled to the door.

She _hated_ the headaches and feeling like shit! She couldn't remember the last time she felt halfway decent. Determined first to get rid of her cotton mouth and then to kill Jake, she wrenched open the door, blinded by the hall light she didn't recall leaving on. She shielded her eyes with one hand and walked down the carpeted hall, stopping when she realized her hallway didn't have carpet.

Her vision was too blurry for her to see much beyond hazy shapes and colors. The carpet was a deep maroon, soft and cushy, the walls around her brown. She squinted through her fingers and braced herself against one wall to counter the effects the drugs had on her equilibrium as she moved down the long hallway.

"Jake?"

Suddenly, her bracing arm hit air. She tried to balance herself only to find herself toppling over and over and over down a stairwell. She landed hard on a cold floor. Pain roared through her, and she sought both to shield her eyes from a crystal chandelier blinding her and to grab her burning leg. She wore only a long shirt to her knees that twisted to her stomach with her fall.

"Oh, God!" she grated, pushing herself into a sit.

Her blood was a slash of stark red against a white marble floor. The pain in her leg cleared the haze of her mind, and she realized whatever was happening wasn't a dream. Panic peaked as she looked around her. There was nothing familiar about her surroundings— _nothing!_ Down one hallway, she heard the ring of a phone.

Phone, police, help. Slowly Sofia stood. Her first step was disastrous. She careened into a table and heard glass crashing as the table corner tore a stripe down her forearm. Her eyes hurt too much to make sense of the world around her.

Voices prevented her from losing herself to her pain. They came from the same direction as the phone. Whoever had brought her here was coming for her.

Dr. Czerno. The monster in the corner.

Fear flew through her as she recalled the disjointed dreams. She turned, slammed into something twice her size, and fell backwards. Her hand dropped from her eyes to reveal a furry, fanged monster from a nightmare framed against the light.

Sofia screamed. It swiped at her, and she backpedaled, hopping to her feet. She ran into a blurry wall, shoved herself off, and smashed into another monster. With another scream, she bolted and careened into a door that gave.

The room was dark aside from curtains opened to allow the moon to shine through. She staggered up, cursing the drugs and Jake for her inability to balance, and slammed into several pieces of furniture as the monsters chased her. The lights went on. Blinded, she tripped over a stool and hauled herself into a corner, chest heaving and body slick with sweat and blood.

"What happened?" a muffled voice asked.

She hugged her knees to her chest and peered through her fingers. One of the monsters pulled off its head to reveal a man. She squinted, realizing the two furry brown monsters were men in costumes from _Where the Wild Things Are_. Several more men entered the library, all staring at her in nothing short of total surprise. Either they were all huge enough to come straight out of an action movie, or her drugs had not yet worn off.

"Gods, are you all right?" one asked finally, moving toward her.

"No!" she shouted. "Don't touch me, don't touch me, _don't touch me_!" The last thing she needed was more of the gruesome visions!

"Sofi?" Jake's stunned tone drew her attention. While surprised to see him there, she was struck by how well Jake fit in with the other men. He was built from the same mold—large and muscular, the kind of man more fitted to military special forces or UFC prizefighting than financial planning.

The man approaching her had nearly reached her, and she huddled into a tighter ball.

"Han, don't!" Jake called. "Leave her be."

"She's bleeding to death!"

"Trust me. She'll go ape shit."

Sofia wanted to pound Jake's face in. Her heart raced to the point of pain, and she felt sick enough to puke.

"Go get D," the man called Han said. He squatted near her. "You okay?"

Her gaze cleared, and she focused on her surroundings. Her first impression was confirmed—the men in the room were UFC material, all well over six feet and solid. They were all dressed for a white tie party in expensive tuxedos.

"I gave you enough drugs that you should be asleep until next week," Jake said, joining Han. He was also dressed for the exclusive party. Seeing him well rested and well dressed pissed her off even more.

"Can I help you up?" Han asked, extending his hand as if approaching a wounded animal. His brown gaze was friendly but cautious.

The others fanned out, and she suddenly felt like a lamb surrounded by a wolf pack trying to decide what to do with her. She didn't know these men, but her instincts told her they were 100 percent predators. They moved in tandem without looking at each other, their movements controlled and efficient. If she flinched, they'd snap in unison.

"What did you do to me, Jake?" she demanded.

"We'll wait on that," Jake responded. "There's a lot of blood. You okay?"

"You drugged me."

He rubbed his mouth.

"She's little, pick her up before D sees the blood all over the floors," another of the men urged.

"Don't touch me!" she warned again.

Despite being able to bench press two of her, the men actually listened.

"What happened to my floors?" a new voice demanded.

If the men around her were predators, the man who entered next was their alpha. Unlike the others dressed for a white tie event, he was dressed in leather pants with a tight black Pearl Jam T-shirt, his hair braided, a chain from his spiked belt to his wallet, and heavy black boots. She didn't miss the way the others moved out of his way or the way the aura of command around him filled up the room. His gaze swept around the room methodically, coming to rest on her. He approached with a slow, steady gait, like a predator inspecting its disabled prey before going for the kill.

She tightened into her ball. He was as large as the others, with olive skin, long white-blond hair, and golden eyes the unusual color of honey. His features were firm and chiseled. He was not a pretty boy but a man with rugged, bad-boy beauty and a slow sensuality about his movement that made her heart skip a beat despite her pain.

"You got blood all over my floors," he told her, his golden eyes taking her in. He knelt beside Han. She tensed.

"You can blame the Wild Things, D," Han said. "They scared the shit outta her."

D reached out to her, and she recoiled, pushing herself farther into the corner.

"Sofi, you shouldn't—" Jake started, eyes going nervously to the newcomer.

"Not gonna hurt you, okay?" D said, holding up his hands.

A sense of power swirled around him that scared her. She felt it circle her, prod her, and retreat. His honey gaze was similar to Han's: warm but wary. She ducked her head and braced herself as he reached for her again. His large hand was warm against her arm. No visions pierced her thoughts.

"See?" he said.

She looked up at him, surprised. By the look of understanding on his face, he knew what she expected to feel. Relief flooded her, and she flung her arms around his neck. She'd never known the power of a single touch until everyone who touched her hurt her!

"Sofi!" Jake exclaimed. He touched her arm to pull her free, and she jerked as dark visions crossed her thoughts. She wrenched away from both men and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to stop the visions. D touched her, and the visions fled as if at his command. The warmth of his hand drifted up her arm and through her, comforting her.

"She's... special, isn't she?" Han asked D.

"Very," D replied. "Nobody touches her."

His command was quiet and firm, but Sofia knew no man in the room would disobey a man like him. His hand lingered on her arm, and she rested her forehead against his fingers, comforted for the first time in months.

"Jake, clean up the floors," D ordered. "Let's get you upstairs," he said to Sofia.

He lifted her and carried her down the hall and up the stairs. Sofia's heart fluttered as she tried to take in the world of blinding lights and blurry colors. He turned the lights in her room on low and set her down on the trunk at the bottom of her bed. She drew her legs up, feeling vulnerable and scared in the strange place.

"Han, get me some warm water and washcloths. I'll clean her up."

She didn't miss the surprised look on Han's face. He obeyed. D disappeared into the bathroom adjoining her room and washed his hands. When he returned, he pulled a chair from the wall nearer her and dipped one cloth in water, tugging her arm away from her.

"I can do it," she said, resisting.

He gave her a look that said he didn't have all the patience in the world then pulled her arm free again.

"Han, bring up some food," he said without turning to look at the blond man in the doorway.

Han disappeared.

Sofia was afraid to ask where she was, who the man was before her. Instead, she watched a man many, many times her strength gently clean the blood from her arm in unhurried, methodical strokes. His touch sent a tremor of fire through her, and she was embarrassed to feel her hormones stir.

Here she sat, covered in blood, drugged, one day from being all out crazy, then kidnapped—and the sight of the man before her turned her on. What was wrong with her?

He _was_ the sexiest man she'd ever seen, and the swirling aura of command only amplified his physical appeal. It didn't take much for her to imagine what the body beneath the tight shirt was like. Wide shoulders, chiseled chest, rippling abs... even his scent—of pure man mixed with the mystery of night—lured her like an animal falling for a hunter's bait. His attraction was inhuman.

"You okay?" he asked, his quiet, gravelly voice making her heart quicken. He glanced up at her, amusement in the upturned corner of his full lips.

She met his gaze with a nod, and they looked at each other until her face flushed. She cleared her throat and looked down. The wound on her arm was gone. She pulled her arm from his grip and stared at it, twisting it left and right before lowering it.

In fact, she felt no pain at all, anywhere. She kicked out her wounded leg. It, too, was healed. All that was left was to clean the blood.

"I'm going crazy," she said, voice tightening. "Oh God, I'm going crazy!" Her vision blurred with tears, and she stood precariously.

"You're not so good on your feet yet," D said.

She felt his arms around her and leaned into him, surprised at how natural it felt to be held against a complete stranger who made her want to flee for the hills and strip naked at the same time.

"You're not going crazy," he assured her. "When you're well, we'll talk."

"You know what's wrong with me."

"Yes."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Damian Bylun. If I'm not mistaken, you called me for help." His warm chest vibrated against her cheek as he chuckled.

Suddenly, she wasn't so sure she wanted his help. Damian Bylun was not a doctor. Hell, she had serious doubts he was even human. She didn't know what he was, and she had a feeling he'd welcomed her into a world that belonged solely to him.

God help me.

*

Damian wasn't sure how someone going from the second to first floor had managed to get bloody enough to look like she crawled through a war zone. Most women were too intimidated to go near him, let alone get close enough to throw their arms around him. This one clung to him as if he were the only thing preventing her from being swept overboard. He'd watched her thoughts of him naked, flattered and turned on. It'd been too long since a _normal_ woman overcame his first impression.

Of course, this was no normal woman. He reflected on the images in her mind when Jake touched her. The instincts of the newly minted spy were dead on. She was the greatest find since he'd taken over the war from his slain brother.

He tried to move away, unaccustomed to anyone touching him. She tightened her grip around him, and he was amused to think of himself as any sort of comfort to _anyone_ , let alone a little human like her. He hadn't held a woman in too long, and he'd never held one for the sole purpose of comforting her. She needed him. He was surprised to realize he liked the feeling.

Damian breathed in her scent, brutally aware that all that lay between her tight little body and him was a long T-shirt. He'd never been mistaken for a gentleman, but the woman shimmered with a sweet, pure aura that made him feel obliged to behave. Her turquoise eyes had been so lost and confused, he couldn't help but take pity on her.

Her eyes shimmered with more than tears—they swirled with silver, the way the eyes of ancient Oracles did. He hadn't seen anything like her since he sat in his father's court as a child.

"You're safe," he told her.

She sighed. With her large, two-toned eyes, flawless skin, and long, straw-colored hair, she resembled a doll. Hers was a cool beauty, and her gaze bespoke intelligence. That she was an Oracle was fantastic. A _sexy_ Oracle? Nothing short of miraculous!

"She okay?" Han asked from the doorway. Damian heard the amusement in his voice. None of his men had ever seen a human woman throw herself into _his_ arms. His own Guardians stayed out of arm's reach of him, and humans picked up and ran.

"Yeah, I think so," he said, drawing away. To his surprise, she'd passed out. He scooped her up and placed her on the bed, his gaze sweeping over her tiny, shapely frame. He felt unusually protective of the vulnerable human on the bed before him. Not sure what to make of her or what he felt, he led Han out and closed the door.

"I think I know the answer, but do we have any records that survived the Schism?" Damian asked, moving away from the door.

"Is she okay?" Jake asked anxiously.

"Kid, back off," Han warned.

Jake obeyed and darted to the bottom of the stairs, pacing.

"Not that I know of," Han answered. "There aren't any living Oracles to mentor her, either. Claire was the closest thing, but she never received the training because her power was too weak."

"That could be an issue," Damian said, gaze returning to the door he'd just left. "I don't know shit about training Oracles."

"I don't think anyone living does, except maybe Czerno. He knew enough to find her and plot to bind her to him."

The idea of something so sweet in Czerno's depraved hold irked him. He wouldn't let someone like her get stuck in the middle of their war.

"Most Oracles don't live long enough to be of use," Han added. "Or they're terrible."

_Not this one._ He felt it in his bones, just as he'd felt a soul-deep connection to her the moment he'd touched her. He pulled out his cell to text his confidants.

_U still online?_ he typed.

Both Dusty and Jule responded with smiley faces.

B on in a sec.

"Han, until I let you go back to war, you'll be her bodyguard. She knows Jake. If he doesn't drive her as crazy as he does me, divvy up shifts with him," he said. "She's gonna have a rough time ahead of her."

"Most Naturals get a little more notice before transforming. I think she's already started?"

"Yeah, and she knows shit about us or what she is." Damian felt the unusual urge to look in on her again, to feel her soft skin against him once more and make sure she was safe. Shaking his head, he retreated to his office. He picked up the headphone-mic combo. "Either of you know anything about Oracles?"

_Fuck no,_ typed Dusty.

"Nope," Jule seconded. "We were just discussing HQ. You having any issues?"

"You mean, like an influx of vamps to Tucson?"

Bingo.

"Yeah. If Dusty doesn't object, I might reorganize the southwest sectors. Something is up."

_Do whatever you want. You always do,_ Dusty typed with another string of angry emoticons.

"Damn, Dusty, you're a jackass today," Jule said, amused. "You sure you don't have a woman plaguing you?"

Damian smiled, waiting for Dusty's response. He could guess what Dusty was pissed about, and it didn't have anything to do with women or rearranging his sectors.

Today's my birthday, dick. You forgot again.

"Oooooooohhh," Jule breathed. "Another birthday? Not sure why you'd count at this point."

" _I_ remembered," Damian said promptly. "You'd think after oh, a few thousand years, you'd remember, Jule."

"I'm sorry, Dusty. I owe you one," Jule said, chagrined.

No, you owe me about thirty. Thousand. It's not every day your little brother turns 300K.

"I forgot you're still a baby. I passed that mark a few hundred thousand years ago. I'll send you this video game I'm addicted to," Jule offered. "You might like it."

If you love me, you'll send me the blu-ray versions of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour.

"Ah, my love, your wish is my command."

Damian chuckled. At more than double both their ages, Jule was as old as the Watchers, exiled to earth after pissing off someone somewhere in the immortal world just before the Schism. He'd never said why, and Damian didn't ask.

"You happy, Dust-man?" he asked.

Yes.

Han knocked, and he looked up.

"Rainy from the Tucson Sector is here. They're having issues," Han said.

"Gotta go, boys," Damian said. "We'll chat tomorrow."

He pulled off the headphone-mic combo and rose. Ruling an empire wasn't getting any easier; he rarely had a minute to himself anymore.

"Let's go," he said to Han.

CHAPTER FOUR

Northern Virginia,

The Black God's summer retreat

Two rolled from his place on the concrete floor in the corner and unwrapped the ratty blanket he used to keep himself warm. His skin was cold to the touch; his breath hung in the air as he moved. His master didn't believe a slave deserved heat. He dressed himself mechanically and deliberately, hiding away the scarred body his master hated. Every day he awoke wondering what happened to him, but he remembered nothing beyond waking up the day before. The scars covering him from head to toe were from more than his master's beatings. They were too deep and knotted to be from the daggers or the whip or the hand strikes of his master and his master's men.

Pants, socks, shoes. T-shirt, sweater, gloves. He made a rhyme out of the process, though he'd forgotten it again this morning. He put on his hood last and tucked its edges into his sweater. Above all, his master hated his scarred face. He flew into an abusive rage when he saw it.

He left the basement and entered the heated first floor. It was time for his master's breakfast, so he went to the kitchens to fetch his food. The cook was afraid of him and left everything in one corner. He took his bread and canteen of water—the morning sustenance for a slave—and tucked them into a cargo pocket. He lifted his master's tray. It held breakfast for two, and he racked his mind for who the other was. He couldn't remember—he never did. He climbed the steps to his master's chamber and knocked.

"Come in, Two," his master replied.

He obeyed. The air of the dark bedroom smelled of sex and blood. He opened the windows, which did little to shed light into the stone room with its masculine, black décor.

"It's so creepy," a woman's voice complained.

When he turned to place their breakfast on the table near the patio, he thought he recognized her. Maybe when she came in. He must have seen her then. His master said a slave didn't need to remember anything but his master, and he didn't try too hard to remember her.

His master emerged from the bed, naked. His hair was silver, his body broad-shouldered and muscular. His visitor wore a T-shirt and had hair the color of last night's sunset.

"I don't know why you bother with _it_ ," she said in disdain, looking at Two the way his master did.

"Your breakfast is served," Two said automatically.

"I see that, you fucking idiot," his master said and slapped him.

Two took his place in the corner, where he stood all day, no matter which room his master was in, in case his master needed him.

"Now that you're here, my lovely Claire, you can help me nail that son of a bitch for good," his master said. "Between you and the Oracle, there's no stopping me."

"Anything for you," she said.

They looked at each other. His master glanced over to make sure Two was in his assigned corner, and then pulled off the visitor's clothing.

"I want him to watch," his master said, "while I fuck you every way I know how."

His woman laughed huskily and approached Two naked. Her body was beautiful, curvy, with large breasts. He thought he remembered seeing her naked before, maybe when she arrived last night. He didn't know for sure.

"This is for you," she said and returned to his master.

Two watched them tumble into bed and fuck for hours, wondered why she seemed so familiar, before deciding his master was right—slaves were too stupid to remember.

*

Sofia tried to focus on flipping through a magazine. The mansion's heavy drapes on the ground floor were closed and the lighting in the library dim enough for her to tolerate. She'd roamed the ground floor before adopting the library as her favorite room and settling in front of a deadened hearth with a stack of celebrity magazines.

The monster in the corner of her mind was a man, shrouded in darkness. He wasn't a nightmare or vision—this much she knew. Since her dream, she'd heard him even when she was awake. His crying and shifting distracted her from the strange world around her and made her head pulse, as if he were trying to pry his way into her unwilling mind.

"You're still pissed at me?" Jake asked from his seat nearby. "I brought you here, didn't I?"

She gave him a withering look, wondering what crack he was smoking to think he did her any favor by bringing her here instead of to a hospital. He'd followed her around all morning, and she was sick of him.

"Come _on_ , Sofi, I'm trying to help you."

"Okay, fine," she said, tossing the magazine. "Tell me where I am, why I'm here, and what's wrong with me."

"I can't."

"Then leave me alone."

Han chuckled from his position near the window. He was pretending to read a book, though she suspected he'd been emplaced as her bodyguard. He'd followed her and Jake all around the house earlier like a bored puppy.

"Han, you following me to the bathroom, too?" she challenged, standing. He snorted. He remained in the same spot until she returned. So did her lying, cheating bastard of an ex-boyfriend.

"You're in Arizona," Jake said as she resumed her defensive position in the library's most comfortable chair. "This is one of D's compounds. It's where we come to... be safe."

"Who is 'we'? Safe from what?"

"You've always had this problem," he said, standing. "You're stubborn, suspicious of _everyone_ , and you ask so many damn stupid questions."

"I have every justification to be suspicious of _you_ , Jake," she reminded him.

"Here we go again. Maybe if you didn't suffocate me, I—"

"Suffocate? You sleaze ball! You couldn't keep your hands off—"

"You two know each other?" Han asked, lowering his book.

"Unfortunately," she snapped.

"Hey, now, I did bring you here and try to help you," Jake pointed out.

He was right, but she didn't want him to know she knew it. She'd long since forgiven him for cheating on her. They'd dated only for a couple of months, and she knew he wasn't right for her the first date. But he was so handsome, and she so amazed he wanted to go out with her, that she ignored the instincts warning her it would never last. As usual, they were right.

"You're a pain in the ass," he said with no heat.

"I'm sorry, Jake," she said. "I don't hold our past against you at all. I'm just... really frustrated right now."

"I'm a target of opportunity," he said. "I know. It's okay, really. I just wish you'd trust me. I'd never hurt you, Sofi, and I hope you know that and can trust me enough to know you need to be here."

" _Our_ past," Han mulled. "Anyone care to share?"

Jake ignored him, and she shook her head. Her gaze turned to the curtain, where not even a lost sunbeam could enter the room. Struck by longing, she gave a soulful sigh.

"Can I ever go outside again during daylight?" she asked.

"Yeah, after the transformation is complete," Han responded.

"Transformation?" she asked.

Han opened his book again, jaw clenched.

"Han, what do you mean?" she prodded. "What am I transforming into?"

At their silence, another thought hit her.

"Jake, am I a vampire? Were you joking?"

"You're not a vampire," he assured her. "They're not intolerant to daylight like you are. We'd have to kill you if you were anyway." He was serious, and she gaped at him. "They are _not_ cool. Right, Han?"

"Yep."

"Who can tell me what's going on?" she demanded.

"D," the two responded simultaneously.

_Damn._ The thought of him made her feel like a girl in junior high being asked to her first dance. Or a drugged rabbit wandering into a hungry bear's den. She wanted to see the mysterious D and couldn't repel his magnetic draw. Even now, her heart quickened and her thoughts raced to the image of him in tight black clothing.

"Most people react like that," Han stated. "Not many willingly confront him, especially when he's in one of his moods. Smart girl."

She wondered what he meant. She didn't fear him—she wanted him. Did most people want him? What if he was the only person on the planet that could ever touch her again because of her wacky visions?

"Where is he?" she asked.

"Outside," Jake said. "If you're brave enough, you can see him when he's back."

"And why should I be brave? What's wrong with him?"

"You're right—she does ask a lot of questions," Han said.

"See?" Jake exclaimed. "I told you!"

"New rule, Sofia. If you have questions, ask D. We're not at liberty to discuss much with you."

Frustrated, Sofia stormed out of the library. Standing in the hall, she couldn't stop the fear that slid through her. This world... _their_ world... was nothing like what she knew. She felt like she stood at the door of a plane fifteen thousand feet in the air getting ready to skydive, only she didn't remember packing a parachute. Her headache had been gone most of the morning for the first time in months, until the monster in her head started clawing at her mind.

She put on her sunglasses and started toward the one part of the house Han had warned her away from: the patio that led into the gardens. God help her, she was going into the sunlight no matter how much it hurt!

The light beyond the solid French doors made her flinch, but she forced herself to cross the doorway. The shaded patio was as wide as the mansion, with two small outdoor bars and groups of chairs around tables. Signs of the party the night before still remained, from the garbage bags awaiting pickup to one table with two wine glasses still present.

She began to sweat before reaching the door leading from the patio to the green blur that was the gardens over which the patio overlooked. She couldn't make out what was in the garden, but she heard the sounds of fountains and saw the dark green blur of a forest in the distance. By the time she reached the patio door, her skin was clammy, her heart racing.

She emerged into the bright light of a warm December afternoon and began to melt. There was no denying the sensation of sweat dripping off her body. She closed her eyes against the sunlight and took another two steps into the garden. Grass tickled her toes.

It was _hot_! She retreated to the patio and fled into the house, relieved when the sun was gone. Tears stung her eyes.

"You okay?" Han asked, his form blurry in front of her.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" she growled. "No, I'm not okay! What normal person can't go outside? You all kidnapped me, drugged me, dragged me to Arizona—if I'm really in Arizona—and you won't tell me why or what's wrong with me! And you know what else? I hate peanut butter. Hate it, hate it, hate it, and I can't stop eating it! I hate it!"

Embarrassed by her words and the tears streaming down her face, she ran past him and up the stairs leading to the second floor, issuing a cry of frustration when she realized she didn't know which of the three wings led to her room.

"Turn right, three doors on the left," Han called.

She followed his directions, slammed her door closed, and locked it. She collapsed onto her bed and sobbed, the man in the corner sobbing with her.

Outside her room, Han whipped out his phone to text Damian with an irritated sigh.

*

Your Oracle's a pain in the ass.

Damian glanced at the new text message from Han before his gaze returned to the small base camp tucked between two ridges in the Tucson Mountains. He smiled faintly, knowing how hard it was to rile up his trusted Guardian. Unfortunately, none of them knew what to do with an Oracle.

"Wish you had good news for me," he said to the Guardian standing beside him.

Rainy, a brooding Guardian with striking green eyes and a shock of dark hair, was his youngest station chief at a youthful two thousand years old. Damian followed him across the dusty landing pads to the helo-hangar. His phone dinged, and he looked down at one of the zillion text messages he received from any number of his Guardians every day.

The base camp housed the emergency response helicopters for Tucson and neighboring sectors and was manned with a skeletal crew of Guardians and one on-duty pilot, a Natural who'd been trained to fly.

_On a good note: logistical arrangements for Quarterly completed,_ Han texted. Pleased that one thing was going right, Damian tucked the phone away.

"The vamps have been conducting surveillance on us for weeks, but they just now started to act up," Rainy continued. "We didn't catch on until one of the new Naturals we just discovered was able to track them."

"A tracker?" Damian asked, impressed. "Impressive. Haven't seen one in a few thousand years."

"That's what Han said. Good timing. Had to be a woman, though."

Damian looked at him, touching his thoughts long enough to realize Rainy had _volunteered_ to take on the bodyguard assignment to the beautiful woman in his thoughts. He hid a smile as Rainy turned to him.

"Four safe houses in six days have been destroyed," he said. "All in Tucson."

Damian sobered, troubled by the news. It was how the destruction of the European front started. The safe houses dropped like flies, then the spy network, then the sectors' headquarters. He didn't know where the leaks were coming from in Europe, and he definitely didn't know where they were coming from in Arizona.

"How many men you need?" he asked.

"To maintain our operations, three more. To get ahead of the vamps..." Rainy shook his head. "At this rate, I don't know. Trac—the Natural tracker was able to identify patterns in the attacks. _Ikir_ , they're using our tactics against us."

Damian crossed his arms. It was the worst news yet. One of his Guardians was training the enemy.

"Traci's found signs of the vamps' surveillance around two more of our safe houses. None at your HQ yet or Sector HQ," Rainy added.

No one could find Damian's HQ unless they were on the guest list, or one of his Guardians revealed its location. He maintained a shield around it that made it invisible to those who didn't know where it was.

"Burn the six safe houses. What's the impact if we have to burn more?" Damian asked.

Rainy rubbed the back of his neck, pensive. "It leaves us with two, plus Sector HQ. _Ikir_ , I think Tucson Sector is going to be completely compromised by Christmas."

"The Quarterly is coming up in a week," Damian said, coming to the same conclusion. "I relocate HQ after each one for security reasons. We'll evac all Naturals and Guardian assets from Tucson Sector after the Quarterly and send in a clean-up crew."

Rainy nodded, a look of relief crossing his features, and Damian saw his mind was on his Natural ward, Traci.

"I love clean-up duty," he said with a cunning smile.

Most Guardians did, including Dusty, who personally oversaw every operation in his hemisphere. Damian issued few clean-up orders, for there was no way to maintain the discretion his Guardians needed to mask their shadow operations protecting humanity. It was loud and dirty, the type of work they'd ceased two centuries before when the human population exploded and globalized.

Damian thought hard. First Europe, then Tucson Sector. His mind traveled to the sexy Oracle, and he wondered if she'd be anything like the Oracles from his father's time. If so, he might have the key to crippling the cancer afflicting his operations. If she survived her transformation, that is.

"Keep me updated, and alert the neighboring sectors," he ordered. "How many Naturals you have in Tucson?"

"Only two."

"If you need to send them to HQ or want to evac Sector HQ, go ahead. Don't worry about knocking. I'll let Han know you all may be in."

"Thank you, _ikir_." Rainy's voice was quiet, and Damian sensed his heartfelt gratitude.

"Gods, she's got you mewling already," Damian couldn't resist saying.

Rainy tensed.

"No disrespect, Rain-man. Happy for you."

"You're not upset?" he asked warily. "Dustin says..."

"... women are the true scourge of mankind. I know," Damian replied. "He tells me all the time."

"Actually, he said no relationships with Naturals," Rainy said, giving him an odd look.

"If there's one thing that drives Dustin crazy, it's being kept in the dark. Let him know _now_ , before he accidentally finds out," Damian advised with a chuckle.

"Yes, _ikir_."

Even the younger Guardians referred to him by the ancient title that meant _my king._ Damian had long since lost any lofty delusions, but Dusty was a stickler for discipline and details. His phone dinged with a message from Han, and he pulled it from his pocket.

_I don't know what to do with a crying woman,_ Han had typed.

Damian snorted then glanced at Rainy. "Gotta go, Rain-man. Call Dustin. I'll arrange for evacs and a clean-up crew."

"Yes, _ikir_."

He started to Travel to the Oracle's room but thought better of it. She was scared enough. He opened his eyes to face Han outside her closed door. His normally stoic XO appeared irritated.

"She won't come out, won't eat," he said. "Gods, I forgot how difficult it is raising Naturals."

Damian clapped him on the arm and opened the door. Her curtains were down to seal away the sunlight, and she was curled up in a ball in the middle of her bed with her back to the door. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, and her blonde hair fanned out over a pillow. The unusual sense of tenderness unfurled again in his breast. He sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing one blonde lock from her face.

Her eyes were swollen and red, the silver glowing in the dim light of the room. Fear and uncertainty crossed her features. The images in her mind were of a little boy dying in the street, of Jake's death, of the deaths of many others. At his touch, her visions quieted.

She closed her eyes and uncurled. He'd expected her original reaction to him to be born of shock, but she wrapped her arms around him once again. His body responded with a surge of desire he gritted his teeth against. The woman in his arms was too delicate, too vulnerable, to face the lusty beast within him. Instead, he shifted and wrapped an arm around her. He was beginning to like these peaceful encounters. He'd never known anything like them in his long existence.

"You need to eat," he told her.

"No."

"If Han hasn't told you, when I give an order, no one disobeys me," he said firmly. "Even crying women."

"Do you make many women cry?"

"You'd be surprised."

She withdrew her face from his chest and looked up at him, her silver-blue eyes filled with emotion. Her gaze was unusually steady and clear, as if she were already a legendary Oracle capable of seeing through whatever was before her. The air around her shimmered with subtle, calm power that thrilled him.

No, this Oracle wasn't another Claire, without potential or skill. This was an Oracle the world hadn't seen since before the Schism, the type of Oracle that belonged at her king's side.

Darian.

The woman in his arms ducked her head again and closed her eyes, missing the flash of darkness that crossed his mind and face. He pushed the thought of his slain brother away but couldn't escape the lingering sense of unease. He'd seen from burying his brother that a king's greatest weakness was the woman at his side. There were only two men in the world he'd entrust with his life.

Something about the woman made him think of things he'd not thought about in ages. There was a reason he banned thoughts of Darian and Claire from his mind, an instinct he'd never been able to face in all the years since Darian's death.

I don't know if I trust my wife, brother.

Darian's words haunted him again, and he quickly suppressed the memories.

"Sleep," he whispered, releasing a warm burst of power into Sofia.

Her body obeyed. He held her another minute, resting his chin on her head. His new Oracle was dangerous. He'd almost forgotten that the word for Oracle in his native tongue also meant soul-reader, the dual nature of a woman whose talent allowed her to see a person's soul and future with a simple touch. Her presence alone was already prodding free memories he'd thought he'd buried.

His heart skipped a beat as he realized that the last great Oracle, his mother, appeared just before the Schism, when the Watchers went to war and the universe was almost destroyed.

CHAPTER FIVE

The clang of steel and sound of jeering drew Sofia from her sleep to her window. The distant sky showed signs of growing lighter. She checked the clock on the nightstand then the notepad listing the time of the flight she'd booked the afternoon before after exploring the mansion. To her relief, she still had a few hours to sneak out and make it to the airport.

Several of the beefy men living in the house were in the grassy, well-lit courtyard, sparring with swords, knives, and other weaponry that looked like it came straight out of the Middle Ages.

Her gaze swept over them, stopping to rest on Damian. D wore judo pants low enough on his hips that she blushed as her gaze followed the trail of hair that disappeared into his pants. His tapered waist and hips and washboard abs were on display, along with the wide chest and thick back. She watched him move, his swordplay as graceful and fluid as it was lethal. A sheen of sweat coated his body, and his white-blond hair was back in a braid.

Even from a distance he drew her, and it was not just the chiseled body of a god. She could see him sitting on a golden throne or commanding legions of soldiers.

In fact, she _did_ see him in those positions, and in many more. The visions were less invasive than those from others, like background music at a department store. She closed her eyes, watching the disjointed, fuzzy home videos playing in her mind. She saw a time before the emergence of human civilization, when his people ruled, a time when he was a prince among kings who grew up in the shadow of a war she couldn't see. Then there was the Schism and an era of disaster and grief, where his world collided with—then severed from—the human one, centuries where he was forced into the underground world as a prostitute, a beggar, a thief.

As silence fell over the courtyard, she opened her eyes. The men were dispersing, and her heart leapt when she saw Damian's gaze riveted to her window. His look was intense, much different than the warmth he'd displayed earlier that afternoon.

By the look on Damian's face, he wasn't happy. She wondered if he knew what she saw. She snatched her jacket and pulled it on as she raced down the stairwell and down the hall to the front door. She jerked it open only to have it pushed shut by an olive hand planted above her head. She cringed at the thick forearm brushing her ear.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately.

"For what?" His tone was measured. His scent drove her body wild, the mix of sweat, darkness, and man.

"I don't know."

His hand dropped, and she faced him. He stood before her as he had in the sparring ring, sans any clothing but judo pants. She felt dwarfed and delicate next to the mass of roped muscle and taut skin.

Heat rose to her face as she stared openly. His chiseled features were unreadable and hard. The sword was still clenched in one hand. The honey eyes were intent, his face flushed from exertion. She'd had never felt overwhelmed by a man before, and she'd certainly never been a woman who felt weak-kneed! She leaned back against the door, mouth dry and legs shaky.

"I'm not angry at you," he said at last, taking a step back. "You have a rare ability among our kind. I didn't realize you were as... capable as you are. No one has ever been able to see into my mind."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm not going to eat you, so you can stop looking at me like that," he said with a bitter edge that was lost on her. She looked down, near tears again. "That didn't come out quite right."

"Han said you're moody."

"He's usually right. C'mon. We'll talk."

She trailed him up the stairs, taking in every inch of his perfectly round butt to his slender hips and thick back. She'd never seen a man so strong, and she couldn't imagine talking to him without remembering how beautiful that body was. Thoughts of his sweaty body poised above hers made her want to swoon for the first time in her life, and her core ached so much from the vision that she gripped the handrail.

He led her to his private suite, which took up half of one wing. She sat in the living room as masculine as he, surrounded by wood, wool, and leather in dark colors. The window to a balcony was open, allowing in a cool night breeze that made the fire in the hearth dance. She pulled her knees to her chest, feeling small and vulnerable once more.

When he rejoined her, he'd put on a T-shirt and sandals. He leaned back in a chair across from her with muscular, feline grace, managing to appear both at ease and ready to pounce. They gazed at each other until she felt red creep up her neck. She looked toward the fire.

"Why can't I touch anyone else but you without seeing... horrible things?" she asked as the silence grew uncomfortable.

"In my world, you'd be called an Oracle, one who can see a person's future by touching them."

She stared at him.

"It's a rare gift, trust me," he said. "And a treasured one. You'll eventually be able to see other things besides their deaths. Death is the only definite, and so it's the first vision you see until you hone your skills."

"It's awful," she murmured.

"As for me, well..." He trailed off. "That shit doesn't work on me. We'll leave it at that for now."

"I saw you... I saw..." She didn't know how to say what she'd seen without seeming like the craziest person in the world.

"That is what we have to talk about," he said, leaning toward her. "You will see my past. You will say nothing to anyone about what you see about me."

"I'm not doing it on purpose," she whispered, distraught. "I don't even know what I'm doing."

"I know. However, there are boundaries to your gift that I must give you now. It's better you learn them from the beginning. One, no matter what you See, you are forbidden from telling the person exactly what it is. If you are asked, you can give them insight into their future, so long as you do not reveal everything. Two, don't fuck with fate."

"I can't keep such horrible things to myself."

"Three, you can't save the world," he replied. "You can tell me what you see, if you need to talk about it. Does that work?"

She frowned, unconvinced. He rattled off more rules, and she listened without registering any of them. What the hell was an Oracle anyway? How did one just morph into one? Maybe it was the mercury in the tuna she ate or the excessive amounts of chocolate. Could eating fake sweetener turn her into something like this? If so, what would hard water do to a person?

She laughed. Startled, Damian stared at her.

"Sorry. I was thinking... it's stupid," she said. "I'm overwhelmed. One day I'm a boring financial planner, and the next day, I can't go out in sunlight and I see the future."

"You'll be able to go outside once you transform."

"What does that mean? Transform into _what_?"

"One of us. Our kind tend to live much longer than the average human. You'll finish transforming soon and will be like a human, just with a very, very long and extended life. Except..." He trailed off, giving her a considering look.

"Except what?" she demanded, panicking. "I have three eyes instead of two? I grow a tail?"

"Nothing like that," he assured her with a small smile. "One day, I'll tell you. You'll eventually have additional requirements to sustaining your body."

"When can I go outside?" she asked again.

"Soon."

They gazed at each other again, and she tried her damndest not to look away. A slow, languid smile crossed his features, one that made her body flush and ache for him. The vision of him on top of her protruded into her thoughts again. She looked away.

"I'll always win that game," he warned.

_You have no idea_ , she mused. There were a great many things she'd let him do to her to win the game in her head.

"Like what?"

"You really can read minds," she whispered, stricken.

"Damn straight. And I'm willing if you're willing," he said with a smile that set her blood alight. He clasped his hands behind his head, giving her an unobstructed view of his body.

"I'm not some sort of floozy," she snapped, though she couldn't help wishing she was. "I don't sleep with random men, especially those who aren't... you're not even human, are you?"

"Nope."

"What are you?"

"I guess you could say I'm a divine spirit of sorts," he said, guarded once more.

"A ghost?"

"Not that kind of spirit." He didn't expand, and she was too afraid to ask. "I'm going out for a meeting in about an hour. I'll probably be gone until noon or so. Han will be here if you need anything. Or, I can cancel, and we can live out the—"

"No, thanks," she said, standing and all but bolting out of his suite. Her head hurt again, this time from trying to digest what he was telling her. She could see the future and he was a... what the hell was he?

He could read minds.

It made no sense, but neither did the sudden craving for peanut butter that dragged her to the kitchen, where yet another man she wanted to avoid was lounging. She snagged a jar of Jif and a spoon, retreating to her library. Jake followed, and Han was already waiting for her.

"What are you doing?" Jake asked.

"Transforming. Can't you tell?" Irritated he continued to disturb her peace, she leveled a glare on him.

He stalked off, and Han glanced down from his bored stare at the ceiling. She didn't care if he was miserable or not— _she_ hadn't ordered him to babysit her. A few minutes later, Jake returned with a jug of water, appearing less than excited.

"Your shift," Han said and rose.

Sofia retreated to her room, not wanting to fight more with Jake. She left the door cracked until she heard Jake greet Damian as the leader passed her room. After another half an hour, she gathered up a small backpack she'd found in a closet. The day before, she'd found quite a few treasures, to include the backpack, a flashlight, the key locker for the cars in the garage, and Jake's wallet, which happened to have a credit card, which she had secretly used to book a flight from Tucson to Virginia.

"I want to go out," she said and emerged from her bedroom.

"Great," Jake said, rising from his seat outside her door and trailing her down the stairs.

"To the airport," she added.

"That's a no-go, Sofi."

Ignoring him, she pulled out a set of keys and walked down the hall to the front door.

"Sofia," Jake called, trailing.

"You're not allowed to touch me," she reminded him.

"D is."

"D's at some meeting. Remember?"

He frowned but followed her into the cool, pre-dawn morning toward the garage. Damian had a lot of cars, and she found the black BMW whose lights flashed when she clicked the key fob. She climbed in. Jake slid into the passenger seat beside her, pulling out his cell as he did.

He dialed and spoke in a different language to the man on the other end. She tightened her grip on the wheel, assuming he spoke to Damian. He didn't appear out of thin air to stop her, and she made it from the mansion to the Tucson airport's arrivals drop-off area, where she stopped in front of the Delta curbside check-in sign and handed Jake the keys.

She was pretty sure Damian would find her no matter where she tried to go, but damn them all, she was going home.

Jake didn't follow her as she strode into the airport and checked in, careful not to brush up against anyone for fear of the jarring visions. She didn't relax until her plane was in the air, and only then was she able to loosen the muscles in her neck when she sat pressed against the window to prevent her elbow from touching the man beside her.

Several hours later, just as evening set in, she entered the disaster that was her apartment. Sofia dropped her backpack onto the kitchen counter, taking in the damage. She rummaged around one of the cupboards for her prescription painkillers, her head pounding.

"Hello, Sofia," a familiar voice said. "I was worried when you didn't show for your appointment."

She turned, startled to find the man in front her of the same make and mold as Damian's men. The doctor's eyes were the color of cold steel, his face stoic, his large form tense. His hair was silvered.

"Dr. Czerno?" she managed. "You're not a doctor, are you?"

"No, Sofia."

She stared at him and edged around the kitchen island. She darted for the door, but he snatched her arm. His visions were more than just his death; they were the first-person experience of the torturing and killing of many, many others, as if _she_ were mutilating others. She staggered under the weight of them, dropping to her knees. He released her.

"I think you see what I am about," he said. Tears streamed down her face as screams echoed in her mind. "I can carry you or you can walk out."

"Walk," she managed, shuddering at the lingering visions that left an acrid taste in her mouth.

"Let's go."

She pushed herself off the floor and rose. The kind of creature that could do such things to other men left her no doubt he'd do the same to her if she didn't obey. She shivered and hugged herself as they emerged into the cool fall dusk. A chauffeur opened the door to a town car waiting at the curb nearest her apartment building. She looked up and down the street. It was busy enough; she might be able to lose him if she made it to a crowd of people.

As if hearing her thoughts, Czerno gripped her arm again. Sofia sagged, crippled by the burning visions. He shoved her into the car, and she crawled as far from him as she could. The car started up, and they merged into traffic. Czerno raised the privacy glass between them and the driver with the push of a button.

"Tell me, love, just how powerful are you?"

She shook her head.

"Still transforming, I see."

And he smiled, a cold smile that did not reach the death in his eyes.

*

Damian turned the cell phone back on and emerged into the warm evening air from the Marriott's conference room, the random place chosen by his spy chief for this week's intelligence briefing. The situation in Europe plagued him, as did the declining number of Guardians. This would be the first year he'd gone into the negative in a thousand of years. He was losing established Guardians—mostly in Europe—and an entire class of new recruits.

Dusty's suggestion to bring in every station chief for interrogation was sounding better. As a former assassin and interrogator, Dusty didn't much care for people to begin with. Dusty's skills were legendary, but Damian had held off on what he considered a reign of terror for his seasoned Guardians. Dusty's interviewees rarely lived through the ordeal, and Damian wasn't yet ready for that step. His cell rang before it could upload the number of voicemails and texts.

"I'm done, Han. What's up?"

"This message is from Dusty. He wants to know what the fuck you were doing that you couldn't answer your phone."

"I'll call him," he promised.

"We have a serious issue," Han said in a flat voice. "You need to get to NOVA _now._ "

"Consider me there." He waited until he was out of sight of the hotel's cameras before Traveling to Virginia with his magic. Han had never led him astray in the thousands of years as his XO.

"'Bout time," Dusty said as he appeared.

Damian accepted his hand in greeting, looking around. The room was as still as a graveyard despite the dozen Guardians there. Dusty had called in the entire sector. If he were personally involved in the operation, something was very, very wrong.

"I think this is yours," Dusty said and handed him a few surveillance pictures taken of one of Czerno's safe houses in northern Virginia and an apartment building. Damian froze as he saw the photo of Czerno dragging Sofia to a car.

"How the fuck did she get to Virginia?" he roared.

"She flew," Dusty said, leveling a look on Jake, who stood in a corner with his head bowed.

Furious his order had been disobeyed, Damian started for the young Guardian. Dusty planted a hand in his chest.

"D, we need to get to her now. We know what he's planning," he said calmly. "You hear me? We know where he's taking her."

Damian met Dusty's clear blue eyes, blood boiling.

"C'mon, bro. If he finishes with her before we get there..."

They were _fucked._ Damian forced himself to focus on Dusty, though he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around the newbie's neck. The thought of Sofia in Czerno's hands did worse than anger him—he felt _fear_ for the first time in millennia _._

"You know where she is," he said.

"Yes."

"We'll do this your way, Dusty. We raze the place. No survivors."

"We'll drop you in first," Dusty said. "Whatever you don't destroy, we will. I called in the DC Sector for support as well."

"He's going with me," Damian said, indicating Jake.

"Agreed. Jake, prepare yourself. You've got half an hour."

It was a death sentence, and Damian saw the realization in Jake's eyes before the newbie left for the weapons room. The other Guardians filed out in silence befitting a funeral.

"He's the only one at station who can Travel," Dusty reminded him.

"I don't give a damn. If we can't un-fuck what he did, Czerno will destroy humanity overnight." _And Sofia,_ he added silently.

"I'll put out a recruitment requirement for a new Traveler," Dusty said and begin handing him weapons.

Damian pulled off his sweater to reveal a black T-shirt and tucked weapons into his cargo pants, boots, and pockets. They were silent, aware this would be one of the most crucial battles they'd encountered in ages.

"Is she like the Oracles in your father's court?" Dusty asked. "Does she understand how important her gift is?"

"Not yet," Damian admitted. "She's this sexy little thing with beautiful eyes. Lots of spunk and stubborn as an ox. Nice rack, killer legs. So sweet and innocent. Were we ever innocent?"

"Nope. We were damaged goods when we were dropped onto this planet."

He felt Dusty's thoughtful gaze on him and looked up from strapping a gun to his ankle. "What's up?" he asked, straightening. Dusty shook his head, though Damian saw his faint smile. "Bro, what's up?"

"Either you need a woman real bad or there's something special about this one."

"Hey now, don't insult my Oracle," Damian warned. "Assuming she survives tonight."

He ignored Dusty's intent look, aware his adopted brother knew when he was avoiding answering his question. Dusty was right on both accounts: he needed a woman, and this one was special. He didn't dare mess with an Oracle, though. It was common sense: never piss off the woman who could see the future, lest she alter it and make your life hell. Thousands of years hadn't given him much insight into a woman's way of thinking, but this he knew without a doubt.

"As if the European front wasn't enough," Dusty muttered.

"Tell me about it. After this is over, I'll tell you about the Guardian recruitment stats."

"Gods."

"Yeah."

Hang in there, Sofia.

CHAPTER SIX

They drove west, away from DC. Sofia watched the scenery turn from urban to rural and recognized the roads leading up to Skyline Drive, the scenic route running through the mountains of northern Virginia. The town car moved at a quick pace, bringing them to a mansion atop one of the private, gated drives tucked away from sight along Skyline Drive.

Czerno motioned her out of the car as it stopped in front of the Georgian-style manor house.

Not expecting the dizzy spell, she staggered against the car, cringing away from Czerno as he snatched her arms and dragged her to the house. He released her and tossed his coat to a waiting maid before motioning Sofia to follow.

She followed, heart racing. She passed several men with guns hidden in the alcoves of doors as she walked. Upon passing the first, she realized they weren't men at all. No human's eyes glowed red, and their inhuman growls as she passed resembled those of animals. They watched her like they intended to make her their dinner. She hurried to follow Czerno, silently praying Jake ratted her out to Damian.

There were two other men in the study Czerno into which led her. The door closed behind her, and he pointed to a chair. She sat, taking in the Goth décor that made the study as welcoming as a graveyard. The other two men gazed at her. One was of medium height and slender, an older man with sharp green eyes the color of forest moss who seemed out of place in the middle of the room. The second was closer to Han's age with midnight hair and eyes.

Neither looked friendly. She stayed the urge to curl up in her chair, jumping when a shadow with lopsided shoulders emerged from the corner dressed like an executioner in black hood and gloves.

"Jilian, check her," Czerno ordered. "Two, prep the room."

The man in the executioner's hood left while Jilian, the man with midnight hair and eyes, approached. She blinked, shocked when he walked through the man with the green eyes as if he weren't there. Jilian wrenched her up. Visions slammed into her, each one as vivid as the next, the sights, smells, sounds. He was Czerno's personal hit man, an executioner with no heart or soul.

"Unbound," Jilian said, releasing her. She dropped into her chair, shaking.

"I'm impressed," Czerno said. "Bylun's gone soft."

"If he didn't act, there's a reason," Jilian observed.

"If he didn't act, I will," Czerno responded. "Get her ready, fast. Damian's not gonna sit around for this one."

Jilian grabbed her again, and she grated her teeth against the visions, staggering as she tried to keep upright. He led her down the stairs into a basement that looked more like a dungeon. One well-lit room gleamed with stainless steel. Until she saw the blood on the walls and ceiling, she thought it was a surgical room.

The torture room from her visions. Panic gripped her, and she tried to bolt. Jilian snatched her and slammed her onto the table, pinning her in place as he strapped her wrists and ankles in.

"Please don't—" she cried, yanking at her arms and legs.

"Shut up. The more noise you make, the worse I make it for you."

She obeyed, breathing raggedly. He retrieved a jar from the small refrigerator and laid it next to a surgical knife, a large rubber tube, and a huge syringe.

_Oh, god, oh god, oh, god!_ Sofia pulled again at her bindings and closed her eyes against the blood splatters on the ceiling.

"What are you going to do?" she whispered.

" _You're_ the Oracle."

"I only see other people's fates, not mine."

"You see mine?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"You die." _Horribly. At Damian's hands._ That Damian was capable of the same level of violence as these men reminded her that this world was nothing like hers.

"Guess they forgot to tell you I'm immortal," Jilian said and laughed. "Only Czerno or Damian can kill me."

I'm sorry, Jake. I'm sorry, Damian.

"I'm going to drain your blood," he said conversationally. "You should be grateful. Czerno wants this done his way, not mine."

From her visions, neither of them was capable of any measure of kindness. Tears trickled down her face, tickling her ears.

"Then we'll bind you to him."

"What does that mean?" she forced herself to ask to keep hysterics from claiming her.

"An Oracle must be blood bound to her master to be of any use and keep you from dying from the Transformation. We'll bind you to Czerno, and you'll serve him for all eternity."

His words were too extraordinary for her to understand fully, but she knew serving men like these _for eternity_ was equivalent to living with the devil in hell. Her breathing stilled, and she strained against the bindings.

"Hold still. If I miss, I'll paralyze you for eternity."

He held up the long syringe. By the glimmer in his eye, he wanted her to move. Sofia closed her eyes. He injected the gel into her arm, and warmth spread through her. Sweat soon covered her, and her chest began to tighten.

"We have to kill you first," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. A slow, cold smile spread across his face. "I didn't use the cocktail mix. This might hurt a little."

Fire formed in her stomach, racing through her. The man in the corner of her mind stopped clawing at the edges of her thoughts and chose that moment to speak to her.

My name is Darian. Please don't leave me. You must live through this.

Sofia began to scream as her nerve endings sizzled from the inside out. She strained and bucked against the bindings, her body seizing. Darkness lingered at the edges of her mind but refused to take her. Instead, the agony grew, tearing her apart, cell by cell, while Jilian's laughter echoed in her mind.

*

The alarm sounded the second Damian materialized into the compound. He expected it to; he sensed Czerno as well as the Black God sensed him. He snatched Jake as a knife sliced through the air where the newbie appeared. Damian whirled, whipping out the sword at his back. He sliced through two vamps before shooting the other two in the small courtyard. Bullets rained down on them.

"C'mon!" He yelled and dragged Jake against the building and loosed part of his power to locate Czerno's position in the compound. Jake shot off a burst of rounds as several vamps raced across the courtyard, their red eyes glowing and growls loud.

"You okay?" Dusty's voice came across his earpiece.

"Great," Damian grunted. "You got the schematics on this place?"

"Here," Jake said, whipping out a PDA. He ducked into a doorway while Damian shot two more vamps and reappeared, the blueprints on the screen.

"Guide me in," Damian ordered.

"Tell me when you're ready for us," Dusty said.

"Will do. D out."

Jake led him into the Gregorian mansion, whose stone walls resembled an old school fortress. Czerno's affinity for castles meant they couldn't simply blow the place up and hope she survived an avalanche of stone. He had to find her fast.

Damian located the enemy ahead of them, shooting intersections clear as they reached them. Jake led him into a dark wine cellar, and they paused to reload. Czerno was moving somewhere behind the walls.

"There's another basement," Damian said, pacing the room in search of a door.

"It's not on the schematics," Jake confirmed. "You see a door?"

They heard a sound that made them freeze and look at each other. It was the scream of a soul dying.

"Sofia!" Jake breathed, guilt and anger crossing his face.

"Stand back," Damian ordered. "Cover the door."

He traced Czerno's path to locate the hallway behind the wall then placed his hands on the stones. They exploded into pebbles and dust. Light from the hidden hall filled the wine cellar. Jilian and a few other vamps were down the hall and turned as the stone wall caved. Sofia's anguished scream was still muffled.

"Sofia!" Jake shouted.

"D, watch out for Jilian. Czerno brought in fifty of his goons. Jilian's—" Dusty called.

"Jake!" Damian shouted as the Traveler disappeared. "Fuck!" He saw Jilian's blow cleave the Traveler apart the moment he materialized down the hall. Jake dropped silently. Damian charged Jilian, Czerno's longtime executioner. Jilian met Damian's sword with his own, barking orders to his vamps.

The screams stopped, and Damian's heart quickened. The period between when an Oracle could be bound and when she permanently died was brief. Jilian's men pounded down the hall. Damian gritted his teeth, unable to unleash the blow that could destroy them all in a blink without taking out Sofia as well.

"D!" Dusty called.

"Busy!" He whipped out the vamp-killing hand cannons and shot the first two of Jilian's men. Several rounds drove him back, and he ducked a blow aimed at his neck by Jilian.

"I'm here!" Dusty materialized beside him, his gun roaring in the narrow hallway as he mowed down Jilian's men.

Damian slashed through Jilian, and the vamp dropped. He hacked him apart until there was nothing but pulp.

"Laney, send in everything!" Dusty barked into his mic. " _Now!"_

Vamps jammed both directions of the hall, and Damian sensed Czerno making a beeline for the room behind the wall in front of them.

"Hold 'em, Dusty," Damian shouted and placed his hands on the wall.

"Got it," Dusty said, reloading before his hand cannons began roaring again.

The wall before him burst into dust, and Damian crawled through the opening, firing a full clip at Czerno's form at the other end. The mansion rocked as Dusty's first set of explosions went off. The ceiling began to crumble. A second explosion threw him across the room. Czerno disappeared as chunks of stone ceiling piled in front of the doorway.

Damian rose, sickened by the sight before him. Sofia lay on the cold steel table, her tears still wet but her eyes open and staring blankly. A tube ran from her neck to the vat of blood on the floor. What had started as a stream of blood had slowed to a few remaining drops. Fury filled him. A stone dropped from the ceiling into the vat, and warm blood splashed over him.

Dusty joined him, drawing a sharp breath at the sight.

"This place is about to come down," he warned. Damian launched forward, snatching the tube and whipping out a knife.

"Cut me," he ordered.

"You know what you're doing?"

"Think I just got me an Oracle," Damian said grimly. He felt Dusty's gaze on him before it went to the still woman.

"This is more permanent than marriage," Dusty said in a hushed tone.

Damian followed his gaze. He felt fear again, an emotion he hated. Every instinct in his body ached to feel Sofia alive. He didn't know if she'd understand—or forgive him—for what he was about to do to her. He didn't know if _he_ understood what he was doing. But seeing her lifeless on the table made his soul wrench in a way that reminded him of how he'd felt when he found his brother's lifeless body thousands of years ago.

Darian.

"Do it," he ordered. He handed Dusty the knife and pulled off the high-collared vest to expose his throat.

Dusty obeyed and punctured deep into his jugular. Damian shoved the other end of the tube into his neck, releasing his power. He sealed his skin around the tube, forced the flow downward, and placed his hands on her, forcing her body to accept his blood. Dizziness made him lean onto the table, and he loosed his regeneration powers.

Dusty watched in silence. The house was crashing down around them. He couldn't Travel with a dead body; the White God's magic only worked on living things. She needed to have a pulse.

"D!" Dusty shouted as a chunk of stone crushed a stainless steel cabinet.

"C'mon, c'mon," Damian urged, watching for signs of life in the woman. He forced his blood out faster and faster.

"We gotta go!" Dusty yelled, slapping him on the back. " _Now!"_

He felt the flicker of a pulse and prayed it was enough. Damian carefully gathered the woman into his arms and closed his eyes. Dizziness washed over him, and he his body strained to Travel. Silence, and he opened his eyes to find himself kneeling on the NOVA Sector's kitchen floor. Her eyes were closed, but color bloomed in her cheeks.

"D, put her down. Laney, get the defib!" Dusty barked.

Damian ordered his body to cease the transfusion and pulled the tube from his neck, healing the tear. He gently removed the tube from the Oracle and placed his hand over the wound to heal it. He touched her face, exhausted for the first time in years. He leaned against the cabinets behind him.

"Move, D," Dusty ordered, snatching the defibrillator from Laney. He cut her shirt open while it charged and placed the paddles against her chest. Her body bucked, and her eyes flew open. The Oracle gasped.

Dusty felt for her pulse before resting against the cabinets opposite him. Damian met his gaze, and they sat in the kitchen, bloodied and breathing hard as they recovered.

"Jule's gonna be pissed we didn't invite him," Dusty said at last and pulled off his gloves, tossing them.

"He would've tried to talk us out of it anyway," Damian said. "He's not as violent as we are."

"I think you mean not as violent as I am. He gives me shit all the time," Dusty corrected him. "Congrats, _ikir_. You are the proud owner of an Oracle. You figure out how to train one?"

"No fucking clue," Damian admitted with a ruthless grin.

"May the gods help you. I sure can't."

"What is she?" Laney asked, returning to the kitchen. Damian rose and pulled Dusty to his feet.

"That, Laney, is my Oracle," he said. "Watch her for a bit while we go back and clean up what's left of Czerno's goons."

Laney's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at the unconscious, blood-spattered woman.

"Yes, _ikir_ ," he murmured and knelt, lifting Sofia off the ground. "I'll take care of her."

*

She stared at the sunbeams moving across the ceiling, not remembering where she was or how she arrived. Her memories wiggled their way out of the mud of her mind, and she sat upright. She was alive! She touched her face, her arms, her body. At the memory of the pain, she began to shake.

It's over!

Yet the sensation of fire creeping through her remained. She suddenly realized the curtains were open, and the sun streaming into her window didn't hurt her eyes. Her memories overshadowed, she threw open the curtains. She shoved the cracked balcony door all the way open. She bathed in the midmorning sun. Morning air had never tasted so wonderful! She didn't have to wear sunglasses indoors anymore, didn't have to hide from moonlight!

"You look good."

She whirled, heart leaping at the sound. Han sat in the corner of her room nearest the door.

"I can go outside!" she exclaimed. "I'm cured!"

"More or less," he said. She looked again at the sunlit courtyard beyond her window.

"I'm _here_ again," she murmured, troubled, and faced Han. "I'm... transformed?"

Han nodded grimly.

"Isn't that good?" she prodded. "Isn't it what you all wanted?"

"It is," he confirmed.

"You don't look happy."

"It all turned out well, I guess," he said at last. "As long as you're okay?"

"I am. I can go outside again." She sat to pull on shoes and saw the scars around her wrists, evidence of her fight against the bindings Jilian used to strap her onto the table. "Han, what happened to me?"

"It's better you don't remember."

"I _do_ remember. At least, part of it I remember. Jilian injected me with something to kill me," she paused, shuddering at the flash of residual pain from the memories. "Did he succeed?"

"Yes."

"So I died?"

"You did."

"What happened then?" Her eyes closed at the bizarre news. How many people lived to hear they'd died?

"Ask Damian."

She shuddered, afraid to face him after ditching him as she had before. No doubt he'd had to do some terrible things to free her from Czerno.

"Is Jilian dead?"

"Damn straight."

"I told him so," she said softly, disturbed. "Is Damian okay?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you upset?"

"We lost Jake." Jake's death flashed through her thoughts.

"Jilian killed him," she said.

"Yes."

_Because of me._ Sofia slumped. As much as Jake annoyed her, he was still her friend. And he'd brought her somewhere where she could be safe.

"Han, can I be alone?"

He complied. Sofia crawled into bed and cried again. She'd not only seen his death—she'd _caused_ it! Her heart ached for her friend. She cried until she was too tired to cry more and drifted into a vision, reliving the few moments she spent with Jilian.

You must die first.

... an Oracle must be bound...

for all eternity...

She jerked out of the memory with a cry. Han slammed the door open, and she squeezed her eyes closed, expecting the light from the hallway to hurt her. When it didn't, she uncurled herself from the ball she was in. Han's gaze swept over her before he retreated outside her door.

It was dark outside. She'd wasted her first day of light. She forced herself out of bed, exhausted and hungry. She took a shower and padded through the quiet mansion to the kitchen.

"At least I don't crave peanut butter anymore," she murmured as she went through the contents of the fridge.

In fact, she didn't crave _anything_ anymore. Her stomach grumbled but the thought of a ham sandwich disgusted her. She made one anyway and forced herself to eat it, blaming her recent trauma for her queasiness. Five minutes later, she bent over a toilet, paying homage to the porcelain gods.

"My God!" she gargled between bouts of heaving.

Han watched, handing her a wet wash cloth when she was done.

"Han!" she wailed. "What's wrong with me?"

"Ask Damian."

"I knew you'd say that," she muttered.

Though nauseated by the thought, she heated up a can of soup and forced herself to eat it. The soothing warmth slid down her throat. Five minutes later, it returned, scorching her throat on the way out. She wiped her mouth again and flung the rag against the wall, chest heaving.

"Han, please," she begged. "What can I eat?"

"Damian's in his room. Go see him," Han said, concerned yet unyielding.

"Does he have food?"

"More or less."

"It better be a feast," she growled and stood. She returned to her room to clean herself up, cursing peanut butter for ruining her appetite as she went. A sense of dread filled her as she approached Damian's room. Han hung back, and she turned to him as she knocked.

"Are you coming?"

"Hell no."

"Why not?" If Damian hadn't opened the door, she would have run back to her room. Han was as big as the man before her, and if he feared him...

Damian's gaze swept over her. A burst of need washed over her as her body responded to his scent.

"Are you well?" he asked with a brusqueness that caught her off guard. His face was guarded. She swallowed hard and nodded, struggling to control the strange sense of desire bubbling uncontrolled within her.

"Han said I should see you," she said. At his long look, she backed away from the door. "I'll come back later."

He threw open the door and walked away. She hesitated, sensing that entering his domain would somehow seal her to a fate she didn't yet understand.

_I owe it to Jake_.

Damian turned down the stereo blasting trance music and faced her, crossing his arms as she closed the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said again, unable to see his face in the shadows of the dimly lit room.

"It's fine."

"Damian, I'm so sorry about Jake," she said, voice cracking and fading into a whisper. "He's been my friend for almost t...ten years. I'm so sorry."

He emerged from his defensive position, pausing near her. She wiped her eyes.

"I saw what Jilian did to him and what you did to Jilian. I saw what Jilian did to everyone, and Czerno..." She closed her eyes. Damian rested his hands on her shoulders. The images left. "I didn't know there were such people in this world."

"They're not people," he told her. "Jake's death is not your fault."

"But it is. If I stayed here, he wouldn't have come to save me and died."

"Jake was a warrior, one of my loyal Guardians. I mourn him, but he died doing what he was trained to do. No warrior wants to die of old age," he said.

"He deserved better."

"You've been dropped into the middle of a war no human knows about. Men like Jake wouldn't want to die any other way than honorably defending people like you."

He touched her face, and her mouth went dry. Not trusting herself, she refused to look at him and instead wrapped her arms around him. He hesitated before hugging her. Engulfed in his heat and scent, she relaxed. He felt like home. No, better. He felt like a piece of heaven!

Her stomach grumbled loudly again.

"You're hungry," he said, withdrawing.

"I'll get something later," she said, surprised when he retreated across the room again. "Is everything okay?"

"Wonderful," was the sarcastic response. Confused by his moods, she watched him cross to a thick goblet with a knife beside it.

"I'll go now."

"You are about to confront your new reality," he said. His tone made her back toward the door. "C'mere."

She shook her head, fear spiraling through her.

"Sofia, what's done can't be undone, even if you want it so."

"You're scaring me."

"I told you I'd never hurt you," he said in a softer tone.

"I'm not feeling reassured right now!" she retorted.

He left the corner and approached her, stopping when she took a step back. He held out his hand.

"C'mere," he said more gently. "I promise not to harm you."

She hung in indecision for a long moment until she recalled that being in his arms was the only place she ever found peace. She placed her hand in his. He tugged her forward until their bodies met. Her blood surged with desire, her breathing quickening. She stared at his chest, afraid again to look up.

"Jilian killed you," he said, wrapping his arms around her in a secure hug.

"He said he was going to drain all my blood out." She leaned into him, at peace yet hyped up on adrenaline and desire.

"And he did. I brought you back."

"How?"

"With my blood. My blood runs through your veins. You need it to live."

"Of course I need blood to live," she said with a nervous laugh.

"It's the deepest bond my... our kind can share and one that Czerno had in store for you."

You must die first.

... an Oracle must be bound...

for all eternity...

"You will never hunger for food nor thirst for water. I think you found out what eating does to you?"

She said nothing, her heart somersaulting.

"It's also a bond that folks in my position have to be careful about taking on, because it leaves me vulnerable. That can be an issue when you don't know how to fight. You make an easy target."

"Yes, I can see that," she agreed. "Are you going to teach me to fight?"

"Maybe. We have to get through this first."

She didn't want to ask but did. "Through what?"

His grip tightened around her, and she resisted the urge to push him away and flee. He pulled the knife from his pocket, flipped it inward, and sliced into the tender flesh of his wrist.

Horror and hunger surged through her. The scent of his blood was more intoxicating than a shitload of vodka on a Friday night. She craved him in a way that nearly crippled her.

"Oh God!" she whispered raggedly. "No! No, no, no!"

"You have no choice," he said with calmness that terrified her. "You'll die without it."

"Let me go!" She shoved against him as hard as she could, knowing when he released her it was because he wanted to. She tore out of his room, the scent of his blood ensnared in her senses.

She ran from the mansion into the gardens and toward the forest. Too weak to continue, she dropped to her knees. Her scream was one of fury and frustration. She screamed until she was hoarse, shaking in the chilled air.

"I guess he told you," Han said and squatted beside her. "You know, to our kind, it's an honor to be blood bound to someone like him."

It should have been her instead of Jake! Damian's words swirled through her thoughts, along with the scent of his blood. The thought of drinking from him made her sick, and she pushed herself up to vomit.

"I want to die, Han," she cried. "I can't live like this! I'm a monster!"

"You have no idea what he went through to save you. Because of him, you're alive, and you still have a soul. If he didn't bind you, you'd be bound to Czerno, and then you'd _really_ want to kill yourself," he said. "You're bound to our king, our god, our master. If anyone else saw you refuse him, they'd kill you for disrespecting him."

"I'm human, Han," she argued.

"Not anymore. You're one of us now."

"I won't do it," she swore. She threw up again, sick and weak.

"You have no choice, _ikira_."

_What's done can't be undone._ She wept, not objecting when Han deftly lifted her and carried her back to her room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

_My name is Darian. Help me._ The man in her head just wouldn't leave her alone. She spent the better half of the next day too depressed to leave her bed before forcing herself up and parking on the patio in the sun, determined not to waste another day in the dark. Darian—whoever he was—would drive her crazy if she didn't find a way to distract her thoughts. Han stayed with her, not moving until two Guardians—a raven-haired man with a quick smile and a brooding blond—approached. He stood and shook hands with both of them.

"The winter's better here than Europe, I imagine," he said with a smile. "This is _Ikira_ Sofia."

" _Ikira_ , I'm honored," the dark-haired man said with a bow and a thick Spanish accent. "I'm Grande."

"That would be a description of his ego and nothing else," the brooding blond said with a light French accent. "I'm Pierre, _ikira_."

"Boring," Grande said. "He skipped the class on good nom de plumes."

Pierre gave him a sidelong look at his butchered French, and Sofia smiled despite herself.

"Grande and Pierre are joining us from our European front. We rotate every twelve months or so," Han explained.

"Front? Like war front?" she asked.

"Fighting Czerno and his monsters."

" _Ikira,_ welcome," Grande said.

"Thanks. Call me Sofia."

"No," Han said, leveling a look on them both. "Dusty's a stickler for titles."

" _Mi corazón_ ," Grande said, faking a wounded look. Pierre punched him in the shoulder, and they walked toward the garage.

"What is _ikira_?" she asked, turning to Han.

"Similar to 'my queen.' You rank up near Damian now."

Her smile faded. The mention of him reminded her of her cramped stomach and the half dozen failed attempts to eat normal food.

"It's a good thing," Han said at her silence. "He owns your ass. No one will mess with you."

"Great," she muttered.

"I bet you won't make it another day and a half," he said.

"We'll see. Let me ask you something, Han," she said, facing him. "What am I supposed to be doing? If I'm not a financial planner, should I be oracl-ing or something?"

"Ask your master."

"I knew you'd say that. And he's not _my_ master. I'm an American; we don't have masters."

"I will give you a piece of advice," he said, unaffected by her tirade. "Don't wait until tomorrow to go to him or you'll crawl to him on your knees. No matter what you think, you can't live without his blood. You might as well make it on your terms, ordering him to submit, rather than begging and mauling him like an animal."

"Wow," she murmured. "You really want to win this bet, don't you?"

"You're too smart to be so damn stubborn. Jake lost his life saving you, Sofia, and you're acting like a fucking two-year-old." And he walked away. Sofia watched him, stunned by his rebuke. Her thoughts went to Jake, and she saddened. He was right. He was always right, even when he told her to ask Damian something he knew very well.

On her terms. If she had it her way, she'd not do it at all. She'd never known hunger like this!

"It's your fate," she reminded herself.

How silly was an Oracle who refused her own destiny? If for no other reason, she owed it to Jake to try. She drew a deep breath and marched into the mansion. Damian was rarely indoors during the day, and she hoped he wasn't in his room when she knocked. Her courage fled to see him framed in his doorway, as seductive by day as he was by night.

He didn't ask her why she came but stepped aside and motioned her in. Sofia balled her fists and entered, sweating at the thought of the ordeal ahead.

"I feel like some sort of animal," she told him. _But I want to live._ "I'm scared, Damian."

"I know," he said, holding out a hand to her.

She took it, her insides quaking in anticipation and hunger. He sat her down on the couch and sat down across from her with the knife in hand. She closed her eyes, more of his home videos playing through her mind.

"Stop," he warned.

She opened her eyes. A flash of darkness went through his gaze, and the same sense of hidden fury returned.

"You hate this."

"I do, but not because of you," he said.

"Someone hurt you? Was this during your dark period?"

"It was," he confirmed between clenched teeth.

She took the hint but wondered who had hurt him so badly that he still bore a grudge thousands of years later. He sliced his wrist, and her attention turned immediately to thick liquid bubbling against his olive skin.

This isn't right.

You'll die without it.

She recoiled, pushing herself against the couch. He sat beside her, stroking her hair with one hand.

"You won't hurt me," he assured her.

She refused to move. He shifted his hand to her neck and held her in place, placing his bloodied wrist against her lips.

The scent, the taste, was unlike anything she ever experienced. Sofia licked her lips, the rich flavor as ensnaring as his scent. She lapped once with the tip of her tongue, tasting both the metallic, spicy blood and her tears. She opened her mouth and drank from him, timidly at first then hungrily. Damian hissed beside her, his grip on her neck tightening. She withdrew, afraid to hurt him.

"Don't stop," he urged, his voice huskier, lower. "Drink."

She closed her eyes and drank. When she pulled back at last, she sat in a daze, fulfilled and content yet unable to shake the horror of what she'd done. Damian had turned his face away and was clenching a thick knuckle between his teeth.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, appalled.

"No," he grated. "Are you done?"

"Yes."

"You better go." Something in his voice compelled her to hurry. Sofia fled to her room, amazed at how good she felt. She was no longer hungry, and she felt energized, fulfilled.

Guilty.

How long could she live like this, drinking someone else's blood?

It was still sooooo wrong!

She tried to sift through her emotions before she returned to his door. He opened it before she knocked, dressed for sparring in his judo pants and nothing else. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from devouring his body with her eyes.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay," she said. "And... I'm okay, right?"

"We're cool," he said, pushing himself away from the doorframe. "Whenever you're hungry, you can come by."

He was guarded again. She felt like the morning after a drunk, one night stand. What did she say after the most awkward experience of her life? The thought of his blood lit her afire, almost as much as the sight of his bare chest.

What would sleeping with him while drinking from him be like? She backed away from his door, wondering how that deviant thought emerged. Han eyed her as she hurried past him toward the library. Dressed for sparring, he waited with Grande and Pierre for Damian.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"You always ask me that. If I'm not, you'll know," she replied curtly.

"Very well, _ikira_."

She glared at him, sensing his amusement. Damian trotted down the stairs. She didn't look at him until his back was to her on their way toward the door. As if feeling her gaze on him, he paused at the door.

"If you ever want to try it, let me know."

"Try what? Sparring?"

_Screwing and drinking._ His voice was as clear in her mind as if he spoke the words. She sucked in a sharp breath, at once confused and thrilled. Without looking at her, he strode through the doors into the courtyard.

"I do _not_ understand you," she whispered after him. His simple words turned her inside out, and yet, what would _he_ want with a woman like her? If he was what Han claimed—king, lord, master of the entire damn universe—wouldn't he take the supermodel of his choice?

Target of opportunity. Maybe that's all she was.

She shook her head. If she was an Oracle, she needed to learn to be one. She retreated to the study and began to search the shelves for books on Oracles. Many of the books looked ancient, with some written in different languages. One volume, _Oracle, See Thyself Home,_ caught her attention.

She collected what she could find and perched in a chair, reading until sundown, when the hunger pangs hit her again. They were always worse at night, when Damian's draw was overwhelming. The thought of him without his shirt on, or better yet, naked...

"No way in hell," she breathed.

She gritted her teeth and forced her attention to the stack of books, jotting down notes on her notepad. There appeared to be no such thing as a do-it-yourself manual for seeing the future, but the books had a few good—if bizarre—anecdotal stories that gave her ideas. Armed with her notes, she emerged from the library.

The mansion was quiet, and she roamed until she found where everyone was. The men were at dinner, including Damian. The scents of what looked like pizza night taunted her, and she stood peering through the cracked door at the long dinner table.

Bitterness slithered through her.

She was even different from _them._ Her reading had shed some insight, saying that when an Oracle died, she could be brought back to life by a blood bond. There weren't many details, and she could only guess that this was not the normal case, as some stories mentioned Oracles attending great feasts.

She watched the men eating happily around the table and left the mansion for the gardens. A cold wind comforted her as she sat alone. The moon was covered by clouds, and she crumpled the notes she'd taken. Tears began to spill again, and she began to understand how Darian felt, utterly alone and abandoned in the corner of her mind.

"You should go inside." Damian's voice was soft. She didn't hear him approach.

"I don't belong there. I don't belong anywhere."

"You belong here," he said resolutely. "You were forced into a transition without being prepared for it. I'm sorry for that."

"But are you sorry for what I am?"

"Not at all." He pried the notes from her hand. "What is this?"

"I'm trying to learn to be an Oracle. I read a couple of books today."

He studied what she had written.

"There's no dummies guide," she added. "I think I can teach myself how to keep from seeing deaths whenever I touch someone." She sneaked a look at his face, surprised to see the warm smile there as he read through her notes.

"Have you tried any of this?" he asked.

"No."

"Try it."

She took it back. She wanted to reach out to him, but she was ashamed even to look at him. Would he soon grow tired of her showing up at his door, demanding a meal?

"I don't want to use you," she voiced out loud.

"Pardon?"

"I don't want to use you for... for your blood. I don't like being dependent on anyone. It'll get old for you one day."

"It won't."

"How could it not? It's just the way things are," she insisted. "I'm an addict. You're the supplier. What if you get a new job someday and stop selling drugs?"

"I never thought of it that way," he admitted, chuckling. "I am what I am, and you are what you are. I don't second-guess that."

"I'm not as confident as you. My existence relies on you giving me blood. Sometimes I think you'd rather eat me than talk to me." She hugged herself and faced him, agitated. "I don't like being hungry and not being able to go to the kitchen."

"I understand."

By the reserved note in his voice, he did. If she closed her eyes, she would see the black memories crossing through his mind, but she allowed him his privacy.

"I will never make you beg or deny you what you need," he said, gaze dark. "If you're hungry, visit the kitchen. I won't say no."

"I don't want this."

"It's not your choice. You must learn to trust me."

_Trust!_ She almost laughed. Kidnapping, involuntary resurrection—these were not the foundations on which trust was built!

*

Damian held out his hand to her. She hesitated while her silver eyes swirled with hypnotic slowness. His terrified, brave little Oracle was entrancing, the shimmer that caught his attention when they met much stronger with their bond.

She was _trying._ He never thought something so simple could please him so much. He couldn't flush away the dark memories from his time after the Schism when he'd been enslaved by humans intent on using his god-powers, but he could protect her from a similar fate. She moved forward, taking refuge from him in his own arms, a reality that amused him.

"Damian, I'm a monster, even in your world." Her heartbreak was in her voice, and he squeezed her closer to him. He didn't think he'd ever met a human or Guardian as honest as this one.

"At least you're a cute monster," he replied.

She pulled away, her anger rippling through him. He didn't know how something so innocuous could piss her off, but then again, thousands of years hadn't given him much insight into a woman's mind.

"You're a jerk, Damian!" she said, glaring at him before running away.

"You better run, woman," he growled, irritated by her response.

His gaze followed her until she disappeared into the house, and he shook his head. He let her get away with so much! She had _no_ idea how his world operated! He didn't understand the ins and outs of their blood bond, but he knew how much she rocked his world when she drank from him earlier.

In a different time, he'd simply command her to take her place at his side and in his bed as his mate and slake his heated blood whenever he felt the need. The ancient kings—his father and brother included—had regularly taken Oracles as their queens. He began to understand why and couldn't help but feel frustrated at having to find a way to _win_ her instead of command her.

His phone dinged, and he pulled it out to see the odd text message.

Ikir, may I enter your home?

He gazed at the message, puzzled, before he realized who it was and typed a response.

At your risk, Watcher.

"I knocked this time, _ikir_."

He turned to see the small man with bright green eyes that glowed in the moonlight. Damian crossed his arms and leaned against the wall around the trickling fountain at his back.

"I admit, this technology makes it much easier for me to communicate," the Watcher said, gazing at his phone.

Damian raised an eyebrow, not about to humor the otherworldly harbinger of bad news.

"I hope you don't spend enough time here to learn to use too much technology," he said pointedly. "What's up, Watcher?"

"The Grey God is coming."

"The _what_?"

"I had to wait until you found your Oracle to tell you. I do apologize," the Watcher said. "If you hadn't found her, he wouldn't come. But now he will."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"To contain the, uh, coaching being done, the Original Beings are ordaining a new god to act as a sort of referee here on earth who will have the ability to bridge the physical and divine worlds."

"Y'all pissed really them off this time, didn't you?" Damian said.

"Yes, _ikir_ , I think we did."

"What is this Grey God?"

"I can't tell you, but you must be on the lookout for him. You have to protect him," the Watcher said.

"Didn't your Original friends give him god-powers?"

"It's hard to explain." Damian waited. The Watcher returned his gaze to his phone, reading a text. "Fascinating."

"You gonna try to explain?" Damian prompted.

"No, _ikir_."

He studied the small man infatuated with his phone. He'd hoped never to see the Watcher again.

"I've assigned you a ringtone," the Watcher said in satisfaction.

"Didn't think you Watchers liked us lesser beings contacting you."

"In an emergency."

"Is that your way of saying something bad's gonna happen, and I'll need to call you?"

"No, _ikir_ ," the Watcher said, looking up. "But in case it does..."

"Right," Damian said, not amused by the cryptic responses.

"Will you tell your team captains I may visit them?"

Despite his suspicion, Damian chuckled. "You can stop with the basketball analogies. You mean Dusty and Jule?"

"My apologies, _ikir_. I wanted to explain things to you in a way you'd be able to understand."

"Yeah, we're all idiots here on planet earth."

The Watcher smiled in response, and Damian knew well enough his kind truly thought themselves superior.

"I'll tell them not to kill you on sight, if that's what you're asking," Damian continued. "But I'll warn you as well: if you speak in riddles to Dusty, he'll cut your heart out. And Jule may smile at you, but you better disappear fast if you tell him something he doesn't like."

"I understand," the Watcher said. "I want only the opportunity to speak to Dusty, if needed. Jule's still on what you might call the otherworldly shit list."

Damian straightened, at his limit with the cryptic nonsense. "Anything else you wanna avoid telling me?"

"No, _ikir_."

"Walk yourself out." He strode away. He felt the Watcher's presence disappear as he entered the mansion. His phone dinged again, and he glanced down.

Thank u, ikir.

"Just when things were complicated enough," he muttered and retreated to his study for his evening telecon with Dusty and Jule.

They were both online already, swapping vamp stats.

"Dusty, do I need to send someone to Miami to fix your IT?" he asked as a message popped upon his screen.

"You know he's a techno-phobe," Jule said. "Still using stamps and envelopes."

_I prefer the personal touch to this e-shit,_ Dusty typed.

"Hey, there's something I need to tell you guys," Damian said grimly. "The Watchers are in town, and they may be dropping by to visit."

There was a pause in activity before Dusty's _Uh-oh._

"You have no idea," Damian said. "We'll talk when you're in town. Whatcha got for me tonight?"

*

"Okay, _ikira_ , what do you See?"

She tentatively touched Pierre's outstretched arm. He took his place on the sparring field, and Grande leaned close to her.

"He'll win in seven moves," she told him.

"Pierre for the kill," Grande said, handing Han one from the wad of dollars in his hand.

"This is working too well," Han said, eyeing her.

"If only you could touch horses," Grande said with a sigh of exaggerated melancholy. "We'd be kings at the races."

She was getting a better grip on her newfound talent and was now able to predict the winner of their rounds—without flashes of their deaths. Han motioned him away, and Grande shifted down a seat.

"Isn't there a better use for your gift than lining Grande's pockets?" he asked.

"I asked you the other day, and you weren't at all helpful," she reminded him. "If you have any ideas, let me know." Her stomach growled loudly. She ignored Han's knowing look.

"I win again!" Grande exclaimed as Pierre's opponent went down. " _Dos dolares, señor_."

"Enough," Han said. "No more bets with _ikira_. It's called cheating in the real world."

"You have any other magic tricks for us?" Pierre called to her.

"Not today."

"Magic tricks," Han muttered. "In my day, Oracles were the most revered, most feared and celebrated. This generation has no idea. Including you, _ikira_. You're all fucking idiots."

"You're no fun today, Han. What gives?" Sofia said, surprised. He grimaced in response. She touched his arm. "You're leaving me," she said, saddening. "Why?"

"Battle is what we do," he answered then looked at her. "What did you see?"

Damian's rules for Oracles returned to her.

"You'll live," she said. _After your leg is broken next week._

He appeared relieved, and she felt guilty. And hungry. Always hungry. She chewed her lip and glanced at her own wrist. Did her blood taste half as good as Damian's? She made a face, drooling at the thought of Damian's blood again.

"I guess I'm done here," she said and rose.

She placed a checkmark next to the first of her ideas for learning to use her power. She wandered the mansion as she often did, restless and starving. She found herself again in front of Damian's door. She'd been there twice before today and only knocked once for fear he'd answer. And then she'd tried to eat chocolate and ended up in the bathroom even weaker and hungrier.

_I don't want this!_ Her stomach growled. Angry, she turned to leave when Damian's door opened. He was dressed again all in black, a color that should have minimized his size but just amplified how ripped he was beneath the clothing.

"You need something?" he asked with a casualness that pissed her off, as if he didn't know why she was there.

"No."

"Alrighty then." He closed his door. He was messing with her—he knew she was hungry!

_He promised!_ She sighed and knocked. He answered.

"You need something?"

"Yes," she grated. "I do."

He pushed the door open. She entered and saw car keys on the table near the door.

"Are you going to town?"

"Yep."

Bet he's got a girl in town.

"Figures," she muttered.

"Pardon?" he asked, looking up from the wallet he rifled through.

"Nothing."

"You finish your thoughts out loud pretty often."

"Bad habit," she said.

_Maybe I do_ , he said into her mind.

" _That_ is not cool," she told him.

"The girl or the ability to read minds?"

She gritted her teeth and turned to go, trying not to think of how jealous the idea of another woman made her.

"There's no girl," he called after her. "You can stay."

"I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were. Sit down."

He was amused and she fumed, her emotions scattered by his mere presence.

I have no right to be jealous. If he has a woman, he has a woman.

"Sofia, stop thinking and sit down." She obeyed, embarrassed. "There's no woman, though I'm flattered."

He sat beside her on the couch. The sight of the knife in her hand still made her squeamish.

"I keep trying to entice you, but you seem immune to me," he teased. "No other woman has been able to resist me. It's fascinating."

"I appreciate you trying to make me feel less nervous, but you shouldn't lie to me," she snapped.

"I can have any woman I want. I wouldn't bother with you if I didn't want you."

The edge of arrogance surprised her. She looked at him. His look was intent, the gold of his irises swirling.

"Let's get this over with, so you don't miss your hot date," she said coolly.

He lifted her chin with one finger. His lips brushed hers, and she felt something within her melt at the simple touch. Hunger for him—not just his blood—roared through her. He kissed her gently, tasting her, savoring her. At his prodding, she opened her mouth. His mouth was hot, his flavor as addictive as his blood. He nipped at her lips, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth. He pressed her back against the couch, and she yielded, her hands touching his face, his soft hair, his neck. Touching him sent warm energy racing through her blood. Maybe he had a harem of women at his beck and call, but she couldn't see herself with any other man. Ever.

"You believe me now?" he whispered against her lips, pulling away.

She sighed in response.

"The offer's always open," he assured her. "Now drink."

He placed his bloodied wrist to her mouth. She closed her eyes, body on fire as she drank from him while imagining what his mouth could do to the rest of her body. When she was sated, she pushed his arm away. He had turned away again and was chewing his knuckle.

"Why do you do that?" she asked, embarrassed when her voice came out husky. "Are you in pain?"

"Not the kind you'd understand."

"What do you mean not the kind I'd understand?" she persisted, standing. "I don't want to hurt you, Damian."

His eyes were closed. He gave a husky laugh at her words. "I mean, when you do that, I want to fuck you, and if you don't leave like, NOW, I'm gonna drag you into my bed and—"

She ran before he finished, emotions roiling and high off the kiss and his blood. Though she couldn't see her own fate, she began to suspect which direction it'd take her in.

"Any day now!" he shouted as he passed her room to leave.

*

_She stood in a dark, cold place, gazing at the hunched form in the corner. She couldn't tell if he was human or beast. While afraid, she knew whatever he was, he needed help._ Her _help._

Darian stirred, pushing himself farther into the corner. She approached and knelt a safe distance from him, trying hard to see into the darkness of the corner. She couldn't make him out.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered.

"Free me."

While his form was large enough to be a man the size of Damian's Guardians, his voice was terrified and gravelly, as if he hadn't ever spoken to anyone.

"Are you okay?" she asked, creeping forward.

He began to cry, the soul-deep weeping of a man who'd lost all and spent his tormented life in a level of hell she'd never be able to imagine. The sound made her gut twist and her chest tighten. Tears formed in her eyes at the heartbreaking sound of his pain. She moved closer and held out her hand. He reached for her, but his scarred hand passed through hers, as if all that remained of him was a ghost of the man he'd been. She made out the shape of the bottom of a tattoo on his bicep, what looked like a half-sun. The rest was shrouded in darkness.

Darian wouldn't leave her alone. The scene played over and over in her thoughts, growing stronger until he was as vivid during daylight as he had been at night. She rubbed her temples and issued a challenging glare to the contents of the pantry, furious once more she could eat none of the wonderful things it held.

"Gods. She does this a few times a day. She can't eat food, but she refuses to admit it to herself," Han explained to Pierre. "Since you'll be her new—"

"Babysitter," she interjected.

"Exactly. You'll be holding her hair for her in the bathroom several times a day."

"She cannot eat?" Pierre asked with a frown.

"No. She's blood bound."

Pierre's look turned from disappointed to approving.

" _Bien_."

"I want real food," Sofia said with a sigh. Damian hadn't returned the night before after their last interaction. She wondered again whether or not he had a harem elsewhere. That thought coupled with her nightmare made her even angrier at not being able to eat.

"Go eat," Han grumbled.

"No."

"Fine. Let him sleep. He had a rough night anyway. I know you're mad at him and thought you'd like to pester him."

"Why was his night rough?"

"He had a run-in with a whole bunch of Czerno's goons."

Concerned, Sofia turned to face him. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Cranky."

"Then I definitely don't want to see him," she said, eyes going to the ceiling.

He'll be too sleepy to tempt me. If he doesn't refuse me because he's tired.

He promised.

She returned her gaze to the Pop-Tarts.

"Damn you all," she muttered and closed the pantry.

"Go. Eat."

She didn't acknowledge his order but headed toward the stairs. Her daily debate about drinking blood made her pace in front of Damian's room until he wrenched the door open and stared at her, bleary-eyed and bare-chested.

"Either come in, or go think somewhere else!" he snapped.

"Good morning, sunshine!" she said with false cheerfulness.

He muttered a curse and flung his door open. She smiled, pleased to see him as pissy as she felt. It was his turn to be ticked at the world—she was sick of being alone and angry. She closed the door behind her.

"Han said you were out doing battle last night," she said, noticing the shredded T-shirt on the floor.

"This world is so fucked up I don't know why I bother." He flung himself back into bed. Irritated, Sofia pulled open the curtains to his windows overlooking the bed.

"Sofia!" he snarled, burying his head under a pillow.

"You promised," she reminded him, enjoying his misery. "The kitchen is always open."

He flung out an arm.

"I'm not going to cut you," she objected.

"Then you're not going to eat."

"Fine. Your precious Oracle will just starve to death," she snapped and started toward the door.

"Stop!"

She turned to see him pull a knife from under his pillow. He rolled onto his side.

"C'mere."

"Did you win your battle last night?" she asked as unease swept through her again.

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

She waited at the edge of the bed. He sliced his forearm and tucked the knife beneath his pillow once more, closing his eyes.

"Are you going to get up?" she asked.

"No."

The sight of him in bed made her blood surge. His head remained shoved under a pillow, and his body relaxed, as if he were falling back asleep. Turned on and starving, she gingerly crawled across the bed and settled beside him on her belly, pausing guiltily before lapping up the bubbles of blood. She drank until full.

"Thank you, Damian," she whispered and placed a small kiss on his elbow.

His other hand snaked out and rolled her onto her side beside him. He looped one leg across her hips so she couldn't move.

"Damian—" she protested.

"Hush."

The curtains closed at his silent command, and she lay still, waiting for him to make some move on her. He tucked her against him and fell asleep. The sense of peace descended upon her again, and she relaxed against him, content to her soul to be surrounded by his scent and heat.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Usually when he awoke with a hard-on and a woman in his bed, what happened next was pretty straightforward. He rolled onto his side, watching her sleep. Her cool beauty turned haunting in the moonlight that slid through the curtains. She lay sweet and vulnerable on her back, her lips parted and warm body tucked against his side. He touched her face and trailed a finger down her neck, between her breasts, and rested his hand on her stomach.

There were many things he _thought_ of doing to her. He couldn't risk alienating the woman in his bed, partly because she was still too delicate, too new to his world to take the next step and partly because he was still leery of the powers of an Oracle.

"Damian?" Her voice, thick with sleep, ratcheted up his hormones another level.

"I'm here, _kiri_ ," he said. He brushed stray hairs from her face and replaced his hand on her stomach. The simple movement took discipline Dusty would be proud of.

"Do you think I'm a monster?"

"No, _kiri_. I think you're a lost angel."

"I know where I am," she said with sleepy stubbornness that made him smile. She roused herself and lay on her side, facing him. His hand shifted to her hip, and he felt the absence of her warmth to the bone. Her eyes glowed and spun. They gazed at each other for a long moment.

"You're always welcome in my bed, _kiri_ ," he said, satisfied when her pupils dilated and her face reddened. She looked away, embarrassed.

"You shouldn't say those things," she whispered.

"Why not? You're mine already. You just haven't realized it," he said.

She gave him an agitated look and rolled onto her stomach, twisting her head away from him.

"Will you answer something personal, Damian?"

"Shoot."

"What are you? And don't tell me a divine spirit of sorts. That doesn't make sense to me."

He pulled her into his body, even as she refused to look at him. She didn't resist his touch. She never did, and yet she never surrendered either. It was an odd mix that warned him she'd not yet accepted her place in his world.

"My father was the White God, the deity charged with safeguarding good and battling evil on behalf of all the creatures of the universe. My brother inherited the title when he died. I inherited it from him on his death," he started.

"You're a god?"

"Yeah. Cool, isn't it?" He rested against her, enjoying her scent.

"Why are you on earth? Shouldn't you be floating in the sky somewhere?" she asked skeptically.

He chuckled.

"A long time ago, there was a battle so horrible it threatened to destroy the whole universe. There are... creatures older than me in the universe, and they were fighting a turf war over who ruled what part of the universe. The battle got so bad that the only way to prevent the annihilation of every being in the universe was to divide the physical and divine worlds. The Schism occurred, and some of us were exiled to the physical world—the human world—while the rest of my kind and the other creatures were confined to the divine world," he explained. "So, while I am a god, I have to stay here, where I'm preordained to fight Czerno, the Black God, for the fate of humanity."

As he spoke, memories streamed through his mind, memories of the universe before the Schism and afterwards, when he and a few others were cast alone onto earth. He thought again of the Watcher's latest warning, of there being a new god in town.

"Were there many Oracles before the Schism?" she asked.

"Oracles are rare but there was at least one every generation. When the kings of our people found them, they mated with them to bind them to them."

"Instead of blood binding?"

"Depended on the king and the Oracle. I would say it was a rough lesson in history when the kings of my time learned that killing a woman with the intent to bring her back as your servant doesn't really work as they'd planned," he explained.

"If you killed me, I'd make your life hell."

"Exactly."

"Who's Darian?" she asked and pushed herself up enough to look at him. Damian's jaw clenched. When he didn't answer, she continued. "I have dreams about him where he's sad and alone."

"Darian was my brother, Sofia," he said quietly. "He died a long time ago."

He met her gaze and saw her confusion. The tension between them was thick. He knew without touching her mind that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She cleared her throat and lay down again, facing away from him.

"I'm bound to you forever," she whispered.

"Yep. You're mine."

"Will you... can you have a mate and an Oracle?"

He considered, smiling to himself. For her sake, he made an effort to behave, but he truly loved the openings she gave him.

"I can," he concurred. "Many times, a king will take an Oracle as his mate. But if you don't stop messing with my weak heart, I'll go elsewhere for a mate."

"You're a jerk."

"I'll say again: you're welcome in my bed, preferably naked, though this is good enough for now, I guess."

"Damian..." She didn't finish. He understood. She was terrified of what she was, of his world, of him. He was a saint through and through for rubbing her back instead of seducing her. He liked that she needed the comfort only he could provide, trusted him on a level that seemed to him far more intimate than fucking.

Then again, he was a man, and he didn't pretend to understand a woman's mind. _He'd_ never lie down in a woman's bed and expect to sleep when they were both horny. It was purely a woman thing.

"You must miss your brother," she said softly.

His thoughts turned dark. He didn't like that she was able to pull those memories free of the prison he'd sent them to. He released a small burst of power into her. She fell into a deep sleep. Damian wrapped his arm around her and held her close for a moment, torn between thoughts of her naked and thoughts of his brother's death.

A light knock at his door distracted him from both painful thoughts. He covered Sofia with a comforter and closed the door to his bedroom behind him.

"Come in," he ordered. The door opened, and he froze.

"Hey, love." Claire was as beautiful as the last time he'd seen her. With red hair, glowing skin, a voluptuous body he'd experienced many times over, and beautiful eyes, she was the epitome of beauty.

"Hello, Claire."

She closed the door behind her, dressed in clothing that accentuated her large breasts and tight body. His blood boiled more at the memories that pricked his mind. She looked at him with a coy smile before approaching. He didn't move, unable to determine if this was a dream or a nightmare. His slain brother's wife had always been a painful sight for him, the reminder of his brother and a happier time before the Schism. She leaned against him, her hand trailing down his chest and settling on his crotch.

"I see you remember the last time we met," she said, desire clouding her gaze. She kissed him, and he responded, his mind on her and Sofia. It would take Sofia awhile before she came to his bed of her own accord. Claire was ready for him _now._

Her arms slid around him, and he pulled her against him, kissing her hungrily. She gripped his ass the way he liked. He kneaded her breasts, wanting nothing better than to suckle her until she cried out in ecstasy.

_Sofia._ He pulled back, breathing deeply.

"C'mon, love, I'm wet for you," she purred.

_Shit!_ He wanted to fuck someone, and that someone was sleeping in his bed. There was a time when he didn't care who he slept with, when he was hard at the sight of any woman who would take him to bed.

"I can't, Claire," he said and pushed her away from him.

Surprised, she tried to move toward him. He held her at arm's length, forcing himself out of the cloud of desire tormenting him. He wished Sofia would wake up and intrude. Her presence would bolster his weak will.

"Love," Claire said, "for old time's sake, please."

"Not this time, Claire," he said with resolution. "Things have changed."

*

_Sofia._ The voice awoke her from her deep slumber. Moonlight slid in through the crack between the curtains. The voices were not happy, and she was surprised to hear one of them. It was a woman's.

"...and I've told you no," Damian said. "It ain't happening, sister."

"Why not? We're so good together."

She peeked through the crack in the door to see the voice of the speaker.

_Claire._ Darian's whisper was tortured. He was silent, as if watching. Sofia rubbed her temples but didn't move, grateful he wasn't hurting her head for once.

The woman was beautiful, tall and shapely with auburn hair and deep blue eyes that made no attempt to hide her interest in the bare-chested man before her. Damian's hair was mussed, his arms crossed.

"How long were we a pair?" the woman continued, tracing a finger lazily down his bicep. "Centuries, no?"

Her accent was exotic and complemented her sexy, sultry voice. Damian crossed to the window.

"Claire, no," he said. "I didn't realize you were rotating _here_ , or I'd have blocked it."

"My love, we've been destined for each other since I wed your brother thousands of years ago. We had eyes only for each other then."

"And I learned the hard way. What we had is gone. Long gone."

"We don't need love. I know you want me," Claire said.

At his hesitation and the heated, lustful look he gave her, Sofia's mouth dropped open. He shook his head despite the desire on his face.

"Come, love. We will fight and fuck together. What else is there?" Claire urged. She had a damn good point, Sofia admitted, and hated her for it. Damian's gaze turned to the door to the bedroom, and she ducked back, remembering he could hear her thoughts.

If he made a choice, she wanted it to be the choice he'd make whether or not she was there.

"Not possible," he said.

She didn't know if it was meant for her or the woman sidling up to him. Or both.

"Why not?" Claire purred.

Sofia peeked out. The woman was all over him! Her boobs were pressed against Damian's bare chest, and her hands were on his biceps. Sofia knew she had no right to claim him, especially when she just rejected him less than an hour before. Fuming anyway, she pushed the curtains away from the balcony door and stepped into the night, winter's chill taking some of the heat out of her.

"Stupid men. Always want women with huge boobs and nothing between their ears. _Let's screw, Damian. We're good at it, so why not?_ "

What in God's name was wrong with her? Her balcony was several feet from the edge of his. She looked to the bushes several floors down and decided it was worth the risk. Not wanting to be around to hear Claire get her way, Sofia climbed onto the edge of Damian's balcony and stretched upward toward the ledge running around the mansion. She yelped as someone grabbed her hips and pulled her from the edge of the balcony.

"What the hell are you doing?" Damian demanded, lowering her to the ground and spinning her to face him. "Are you _jumping_ to your balcony?"

She glared at him in response.

"There's a door. Use it," he snapped.

"I didn't want to interrupt your reunion."

His eyes narrowed. His body was warm against hers, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him.

"God, I'm so stupid!" she growled.

"You're _jealous_?" A smile flickered across his face and turned into a laugh. He hugged her against him.

"No, of course not!" she snapped, pushing at him.

"Woman, you're something else!"

"Damn you, Damian!"

"You're more welcome in my bed than she is!"

A thrill went through her. Embarrassed at the emotions bubbling within her, she pulled away and folded her arms across her chest, marching into the living room. Claire apparently had left.

"It's okay, Damian, really. You can do whatever with Claire. Just put a sock on the doorknob or something so I don't bother you."

"You are very magnanimous to give me permission to do whatever the fuck I want in my own house," he said, borderline pissy once more.

"You're such an ass, Damian!"

"And you're fucking naïve."

Her face flamed red. She marched to the doorway.

"Sofi, wait," Damian called. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm not interested in Claire. I'm interested—"

She ignored him and slammed the door behind her, returning to her room, angry and agitated. A breeze made her curtains flutter, and she closed it, certain Claire's cries of ecstasy would soon fill the air around the mansion.

Her thoughts returned to the dead man alone in the dark room. She shook out the sexual energy running through her and turned on a light, not wanting to be alone in the dark while the dead man in her thoughts began to sob once more. Like the night before, he wasn't going to let her sleep. She read, paced, and finally just lay down to stare at the ceiling until morning came. The sounds of sparring in the courtyard drew no interest this morning. She waited until they stopped and the full light of day streamed into her room before heading to the kitchen.

A short time later, she sagged against the toilet, ignoring Pierre as he tsked and held her hair. She'd seen Claire in the kitchen and hallway, eating Pop-Tarts, eating chocolate, eating broccoli. So once more, Sofia had tried to eat.

She groaned and held her stomach. Claire could _eat_! There was no crueler fate in this world than her own!

"Have you tried crackers?" Pierre asked. "Or maybe antidepressants?"

She glared at him.

"We've eliminated every other type of food, and the drugs might help you accept that you cannot eat."

"Bonjour, Pierre."

At Clair's soft voice, Sofia wanted to throw up again.

"What's this?" Claire asked, pausing in the door frame of the bathroom. "Hello, love. I've seen you around a lot the past couple of days. Are you one of the help?"

_One of the help?!_ Sofia bit back a retort and forced herself to her feet. The pain in her stomach was almost crippling. She motioned for Pierre to close the door so she could clean up. When she opened it, Claire gazed at her with a look both guarded and surprised.

"How... interesting," she said with a forced smile, looking at her in reproof. "My, how things change."

She sashayed away. Sofia looked down at herself. She looked decent in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. She wasn't dressed in skin-tight workout clothes like Claire, who joined Damian as he trotted down the stairs for their daily sparring session. Of course, she wasn't nearly as smokin' hot as Claire either. Claire greeted him with a kiss on his cheek and a look so smoldering it made Sofia blush. Damian glanced at the redhead and touched her arm in affectionate greeting.

Sofia drank another glass of water and forced her attention to her list. She had checked off three of the seven exercises she'd learned from the books she read. She was so fatigued, she hurt everywhere.

"Pierre, I'm going to lie down. I've lost my will to live today."

"Very well, _ikira_ ," he said with his usual stoicism. "If you decide to live, let me know."

"I will."

He followed the group to the courtyard to spar. Nearly doubled over in pain, Sofia returned to her room. She clutched her stomach as pain pierced her concentration. Darian was crying, and her head hurt.

"Pierre _recommended_ I see you. You are so damn stubborn," Damian snapped, pushing her door open. "What's the purpose of starving yourself? Jealousy?"

He closed the door and moved the laptop Pierre had brought her to supplement her Oracle research. He sat on the bed beside her and pushed her onto her back. She strained, but he planted one heavy hand on her chest.

"I'm not sleeping with her, Sofia," he said and sliced his wrist.

The scent of his blood overwhelmed any objection she could make, and she snatched his arm. She drank heavily and opened her eyes, surprised to see his eyes open and the gold swirling within them. The tick in his jaw belied how tightly his teeth were clamped.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"And?"

"And what?"

"I said I'm not sleeping with her," he repeated.

"Good for you."

"Stubborn, infuriating woman."

"I'm not jealous." She gazed at him, completely aroused and angry at the same time.

"Bullshit," he replied.

She rolled onto her stomach away from him, blood flying with desire and heat.

"Gods, woman. In a different time," he muttered then swore. "When the common sense fairy smacks you upside the head, you know where to find me."

He left, as pissed as she was. She sighed. It was getting harder and harder to deny what she felt toward him. In the long silence that followed, she heard Darian's sobs. She held her head in her hands, tormented by his pain without understanding how she was supposed to help a dead man.

"Please stop," she whispered, wondering if Oracles could go crazy, too.

Unable to be alone with the man in her head, she went to her library. Pierre returned a couple of hours later as she checked off the fourth box on her list of Oracle self-training. He smelled of soap, and his hair was wet.

"You know, the French are the kings and queens of love," he said and sat in his chair by the door. "I can help you."

"That's the last thing I need."

"You would be more pleasant if you fucked him every once in awhile."

"Wow, Pierre, that's the most inappropriate thing I've ever heard," she retorted.

"Forgive me, _ikira_." By his tone, he didn't give a damn what she thought. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. We Europeans enjoy a more liberal form of commitment than you Americans."

"You sleep around," she surmised. "I don't think all of Europe does that. Just you maybe."

"Yes, and it's very relaxing."

"I don't want to sleep with a bunch of men."

" _You_ wouldn't be permitted that freedom, _ikira_ ," he almost scoffed. "But you have one man you can sleep around with."

"He wants Claire and probably has a private brothel in town. Pierre, I'm some sort of resurrected monster killed by a psychopath. I can't even eat real food," she said bitterly. "The last thing I need is to complicate things more."

"It's not that bad. Claire?" he tsked. "I would not sleep with her. Damaged goods."

"Pierre, you can sleep with whomever you want, really."

"I know. Why do you not ask him?"

"To sleep with me?" she asked.

" _Oui_."

_Because he would agree._ She mulled his proposition and forced her thoughts away from it and her gaze to the paper again.

_5. Test ability to control skill on new target._ There was one person she wanted to know more about.

"Do you know where Claire is?" she asked.

" _Oui_."

"Let's go."

He led her from the library, across the courtyard, and into the far wing of the mansion she'd not yet explored. It was a barracks for the Guardians, most of whom greeted her with a quiet _good day, ikira_ as she passed. The wing housed an indoor basketball court, indoor pool, a small game room, and a huge theatre room where music blared from some action movie. Claire sat beside another Guardian, watching the movie. Sofia didn't have time to plot how to approach her.

"Claire," Pierre said, stooping to kiss her cheek.

" _Bonjour, mon amour_ ," she purred in response.

" _Ikira_ wanted to meet you."

Claire rose, the smile freezing on her face as she faced Sofia. Sofia forced her own smile, noticing how Claire's gaze swept over her as if she were an uninvited insect in her bedroom.

_Claire,_ Darian said again.

_I know, Darian!_ she replied, hoping the man in her head didn't distract her.

"Hello, Claire," she said, extending a hand. "We haven't formally met. I'm..." Claire shook her hand, and the visions that protruded into her thoughts floored her.

Czerno.

"... I'm Sofia," she choked out. "I wanted to welcome you."

"Enchanté, Sofia. It's my pleasure," Claire said. "Pierre will defend you well. Damian couldn't have chosen a better guard."

"Babysitter," Pierre corrected her.

"Exactly," Sofia agreed. "I didn't have a choice."

"If you must be with a man, it's good that he's French," Claire said with a wink at Pierre. "Please excuse me."

Sofia stepped out of her way, trying hard to digest what she'd seen.

Claire and Czerno in bed together.

"Sofi!" Damian's call pulled her from the vision replaying in her head. "C'mon!"

He waved her out of the theatre and led her toward the mansion. She sensed his excitement and trailed, troubled.

"Heya, Dust-man!"

Three men stood in the main foyer, two in the same shade of brown as her bodyguard and a striking man in designer jeans and an expensive sweater. He shook hands with Damian, a small smile on his chiseled features. Dustin was lean and handsome with clear, cool blue eyes and sharp, angular features. His hair was sandy blond, his skin golden. His noble features and cold, aloof air gave her the impression of an ancient Greek prince.

"Good to see you!" Damian said with warmth she hadn't seen him display toward anyone else.

"Better circumstances this time around," Dustin said with a glance at her.

"Hold the salt, Dust-man," Damian warned. "Sofia, this is Dusty, the commander of the western hemisphere. He helped me rescue you from Czerno."

Her face felt warm at the look both gave her.

"It's a pleasure, _ikira_ ," Dustin said and held out his hand to her, palm up.

She looked at it curiously, then at Damian.

"You haven't taught her shit, have you?" Dustin asked Damian.

"Not the traditional greeting."

" _Ikira_ , in our time, an Oracle greeted all visitors to the king's palace to assess their loyalties to her king. Visitors held out their hands like this," Dusty said, indicating his outstretched hand. "It's a sign of the ultimate respect. The visitor is giving you an open invitation to his soul. You have the option to touch me or not."

She braced herself and placed her palm against his. His memories were much like Damian's: fuzzy home videos with no sense of his future. She removed her hand. Dustin assessed her in silence for a few seconds, and she had the feeling his sharp gaze missed nothing.

"You're better off than when I saw you last," he said at last and turned to Damian. "You got time to talk, D?"

"Yep. Before we do, I need to discuss something with both of you. Come." He motioned them both down the hall and into his private study. "Pierre, stay."

Pierre obeyed and closed the doors behind him.

"How's Florida?" Damian asked, crossing to his desk.

"Good. Looking forward to Christmas," Dustin replied.

"Don't expect anything from Jule. He'll never remember Christmas. I already ordered your present."

"That's why I like you better."

"Dusty likes presents," Damian explained, glancing at Sofia.

" _Good_ presents," Dustin clarified. "None of that shit you gave me last year."

"You don't get to pick. A present's a present."

Sofia sat in one of the plush chairs, legs pulled to her chest, and watched their brotherly exchange. Dustin didn't look like the kind of man who would like anything, let alone presents. She glanced toward the door, mind on what she'd learned earlier.

_Claire._ Darian wasn't crying for once, and his voice almost too hushed to make out.

Damian dropped an envelope on the table in front of her.

"There are traitors on the council," Damian started. "Our European front has been growing progressively weaker the past hundred years. They know what they shouldn't about our capabilities and our weaknesses. Jule's going crazy trying to keep up."

He pulled photos from the envelope as he spoke. Dustin began sorting through them. She didn't want to look, sensing she'd met a source of their issues already.

"Sofia, Han tells me you've gotten quite good at reading people," he said. "The quarterly council meeting is tonight. You'll get to meet all my council members."

Dread trickled through her.

"You can tell me who the traitors are."

"Is this what Oracles do?" she forced herself to ask.

"Oracles do many things, but this is one of them," Dustin responded. "It's unfortunate you don't have a mentor to show you more about your talents. The ability for you to determine a traitor from a loyalist is one of your most valuable talents. It's also what makes people hate Oracles."

"People hate Oracles?" she repeated, distraught.

"Let me rephrase—people _fear_ Oracles. It's a good thing. The more people fear you, the less they'll fuck with you," Dustin said.

She rested her chin on her knees, gazing at Damian.

"You'll identify the traitors," Damian continued.

"Then we take them out back and—" Dustin ran his finger across his throat.

"You kill them?" she whispered, horrified. She gripped her throat with one hand.

"Bad people," Damian said. "People who would kill you. People like Czerno. Dusty takes care of these kinds of people."

"Yep," Dustin agreed.

She shuddered as the distant sensation of burning returned. If any man deserved death, it was Czerno. But _did_ any man deserve death? And if she told Damian who to kill, did that make her _worse_ than them? Her eyes slid to Dustin as she tried to reconcile the executioner with the man who liked presents. She met Damian's gaze.

"Ours is not a pretty world, _kiri_ ," he said firmly. "This is what you are."

It wasn't the reassurance she hoped for.

_Stop Claire,_ Darian all but demanded. _Trust Damian._

The dead man was getting annoying. The plan to identify traitors made sense, as ugly as it was. Who better to weed out traitors than the one who could see them for what they were?

"I wanted to see if you're to the point where you don't need human touch," Damian said, gesturing to the pictures.

She shook her head. She leapt up and closed the door behind her, turmoil in her breast. She didn't belong in the human world anymore, and yet, she couldn't just dump it. Her thoughts darkened and returned to Cody and Jake.

No, she could never become as cold and accepting of death as the men around her, even if they were at war with a monster like Czerno.

But it's my fate.

*

Damian's gaze lingered on the door after the Oracle fled. Something more than Dusty killing bad guys was upsetting her.

"Wasn't expecting that. Wanna visit the sector?" he asked, turning his attention to Dusty. "I'll show you what Rainy's guys found."

"Yeah."

He held out his hand, and Dusty clasped his wrist, allowing Damian to Travel them both to Tucson Sector HQ. They appeared in the quiet living room, turning at the startled gasp. Rainy's Natural, a beautiful woman with mocha skin and blue eyes, leapt up from her seat.

"No worries, Traci," Damian said, seeing her panicked look. She'd been there for about two months, not yet enough time to acclimate to the Guardians.

"Rainy around?" Dusty asked.

Traci's eyes were on Damian. A human's reaction to him never ceased to intrigue him. It was irritating most of the time, like now when he wanted to get a quick response out of one.

"Traci," Dusty said more sharply. She looked to him and blinked.

"He's sleeping," she said at last.

"You wanna wake him up or you want us to?" Damian asked in amusement. She hesitated only a moment longer before bolting and disappearing up a set of stairs.

"Can't take you anywhere, D," Dusty complained.

"Like you're normal," he replied.

"Who decorated this place?" Dusty groused, taking in the lopsided posters of cars and beer bottle décor.

"You're such a woman, Dusty," Damian said with a chuckle.

"Speaking of women..." his friend said, pinning him with a look. "What's up with your Oracle? She didn't seem happy today."

"Damned if I know. She walked in on me and Claire last night."

"I bet that went well," Dusty said dryly.

"Nothing happened, and they're both pissed at me. You didn't tell me Claire was coming this way, Dusty."

"D, I didn't know. You can blame Jule for that one. Is Sofia doing any oracl-ing yet?"

"She's learning. Han says she's progressing pretty quickly, though since none of us know how to train her, it's hard to tell. She's trying," Damian said. "We'll find out what she can do when our guests arrive."

" _Ikir,_ boss," Rainy greeted them as he trotted down the stairs, dressed in jeans and nothing else. "You scared the shit outta Traci."

Damian caught his eye and looked pointedly at Dusty, silently asking if the Guardian had done as he asked and told his boss that the Natural was more than a new recruit. Rainy smiled faintly with a nod.

"What'd you find?" Dusty asked, oblivious to the exchange.

"Traci found several of the vamps' stash houses here in Tucson," Rainy said, motioning them to follow him into a small, dark study humming with electronics.

He sat down in front of a computer and pulled up a satellite image with the stash houses marked.

"This is what's interesting," he said, pointing to a trail leading from a stash house on the northeastern side of the city and dead ending in the desert. "She can't pick up anything past this point."

He drew a box around a large area.

"Only you and Czerno can put up one of those types of shields," Dusty muttered to Damian.

"And it's not mine," Damian responded. "Any cell phone intercepts on why he's in town?"

"The local intelligence collection team is having a problem tracking his vamps. We think they're using disposable cells. As soon as we get a number, it goes inoperable."

"But we know he's here," Dusty said.

"Yeah, pretty sure. This area is ten square miles, though. Unless we know where to look, we won't find where his base is."

"It can't be a coincidence he's here, a few miles from _you_ ," Dusty said, turning to Damian.

Damian nodded. He suspected Czerno's Watcher allies tipped him off.

"The vamps we've captured for interrogation have a new technique. They've been killing themselves with cyanide pills," Rainy added.

"What happened in Europe is happening here," Damian said, meeting Dusty's gaze. "Antoine probably wasn't the main threat in Europe."

Dusty studied him, an odd look crossing his face. Damian waited expectantly, but Dusty shook his head.

"It's probably nothing," Dusty said. "I'll check the records to see which Guardians rotated here from Europe from the past year."

"After the Quarterly, we'll pack up and clean up," Damian said. "Hopefully, Sofi can tell us who's on Czerno's payroll."

"I hope so," Dusty replied. "Rainy, can your Natural trace anything at all within the square?"

"Nope, though I've only let her past the barrier once. Not sure what traps Czerno might have set."

Dusty gave Damian a cool look, and he heard the unspoken warning about women being the downfall of mankind. He smiled.

"Send the UAVs over the area," Dusty said. "We'll see what we can see."

"Got it," Rainy said, turning to face them. "I need more people, boss, or a Traveler at least."

"I've got several incoming," Dusty replied. "Damian, Travelers?"

"None have survived recruitment," he said grimly. "We had three in the last class, more than we've seen in a few hundred years. All three were gunned down. Jule's short, too. We can pull in a Natural from Latin America. He's the closest."

"Hector?"

"Yeah."

"I'll contact his station chief," Dusty said, pulling out his phone. "Whoever is taking out the recruits knows who to hit first."

"They do indeed," Damian agreed.

"Call me if you need a Traveler in the meantime, Rainy," Dusty directed. "I'll make myself available."

"Thanks, boss," Rainy said. "You have a new Natural, _ikir_?"

"I do," Damian answered.

"If she's flipping out, you can call Lon's wife, Linda. Traci hasn't adjusted yet, and Linda's been a big help."

"Linda's the talker, right?" Dusty asked, glancing up from his phone.

"Yeah. Good girl," Rainy said.

Damian had been considering how to help Sofia adjust. She seemed like a solitary person, but he wondered if she'd benefit from meeting the Natural women in the organization. She'd been stuck in the mansion since he'd found her, mainly because he wasn't about to let a fucking _Oracle_ —the first in a few hundred thousand years!—out of the safest place he could put her. His gaze returned to the screen as he deliberated over how close Czerno was and shelved the thought of letting her out of his sight.

"I'll keep it in mind," he said.

"Jasmine's pissed, but Hector will be in this weekend," Dusty said.

"Awesome, boss."

"Dust-man, we've got a Quarterly to prep for," Damian said.

"Let's go," Dusty agreed. "Rainy, thanks. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Roger, boss."

Damian's attention lingered on the image on Rainy's screen. He couldn't help the sense of unease sliding through him. He didn't like the new level of battle Czerno was fighting. The playing field was as uneven as the Watcher had warned, and it appeared as though Czerno's Watchers weren't as dedicated to non-interference as _his_ Watcher was.

At least he'd know who the traitors were by the end of the night.

CHAPTER NINE

Sonoran Desert, Arizona

The Black God's southwest base camp

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the vamp demanded.

Two dropped his arms to his side.

"Water," he said.

"Slaves don't drink the master's water."

Two felt the stinging blow at the back of his head and wobbled, dropping to his knees. One of his master's men—the one with the red eyes—shoved him away and took his canteen, dumping its contents.

"Get the fuck outta here!"

He threw the canteen and it hit Two's cheek. Two took his canteen and rose. He moved mechanically out of the single large kitchen in the underground lair. He went back to his small room and sat on the bed staring at the white wall in front of him.

"Two, what're you doing?" another voice, this one softer, asked.

He didn't remember when this man had arrived or why he was supposed to remember him. But he knew he must remember him as he did his master. He concluded he was his master's friend, or he wouldn't be here. His master's friend, the man with eyes as green as the moss in the corner of Two's room, stood in his doorway.

"I'm thinking, master," Two said.

"Thinking?"

His master's friend was powerful. Two sensed it and cringed as he entered the room. His master's friend had never hit him, but he scared Two.

"Slaves don't think, Two," his master's friend said. "What are you thinking?"

"I see a woman in my head," Two said.

"What woman?"

"I don't know her."

"What does she look like?"

_Kiri._ He didn't know where the word came from or what it meant. It sounded pretty, like the poof the desert dust made when the first drops of rain fell. The last time he went to the surface, it had rained huge raindrops. Then a rainbow had come out, and he'd stared at it until his master beat him.

"Slave, what does she look like?" There was an impatient note in his master's friend's voice that scared him.

"Who, master?" Two asked.

"The woman."

"What woman?"

"The woman in your head," the master's friend said.

_Kiri._ A strange voice in his head spoke the word again, and he saw the woman with blue and silver eyes. She was crying, because his master was going to hurt her.

_Don't cry, kiri,_ he thought.

"Did you remember to do as I told you? Did you stop drinking the juice your master gave you?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

He looked up, surprised to see his master's friend in his doorway, the man with eyes the color of the moss in the corner of his room. He rose in respect.

"Yes, master."

"Good boy. You must do as I tell you," his master's friend said. "It's very important you don't drink that juice ever again. Don't forget."

"Yes, master."

"Come. Your master calls for you."

Two obeyed. He followed the man with eyes as green as the moss in the corner of his room down the busy hallways, unaffected by the men who spit on him or shoved him as he went. Slaves were treated this way. The man with mossy eyes turned down a corner and vanished from his sight and thoughts. Two continued to the master's command center, where his master was planning a battle. As usual, Two took up his place in the corner to await his master's orders.

He'd had a dream last night, something he never remembered in the morning, except for this time. He thought hard. There were many people in his dream, and he thought he should remember them. He heard the strange voice again.

_Kiri._ The woman with the blue and silver eyes came from his dream! She was talking to him. He didn't know what she said, but she was holding out a hand to him, crying. Uneasiness swept over him. He didn't want her to cry.

Don't cry, kiri.

But she kept crying.

"Two, coffee," his master said.

Two obeyed and left the room filled with lights and computers. The man with green eyes was waiting for him in the hall and touched his arm. Two cringed. He saw the woman come into focus, and the man with mossy eyes released him.

He went to the kitchen. The woman stayed with him. Two wondered if she'd ever come out of his head, or if she had to stay there, like he stayed in his master's corner. If she stayed in his head, his master wouldn't beat her like he did him.

*

Stay there, kiri. I'll take care of you.

"Are you hungry?"

Sofia jerked from her place beside her window, not sure which voice came from her head and which from the handsome man before her. She'd watched the arriving guests with a mixture of fascination and dread. They wore tuxedos and ball gowns like wealthy celebrities attending an exclusive Hollywood party. Beautiful women that rivaled Claire and men so handsome, even age couldn't diminish their muscular bodies or riveting looks.

"You're not dressed," Damian said. He wore a white shirt and snug tuxedo pants that outlined long, thick thighs and a tight ass. His body drew her, and his scent surrounded her when he knelt beside her.

She wanted to tell him about Claire, but she was afraid to. He cared for Claire, or at least, he was attracted to her, and she didn't know if there was more than what she knew about them.

He held out his wrist, and she grudgingly took it, drinking from him while smelling the scents of the feast being prepared for his guests.

_It's not fair._ The taste of him filled her, calmed her. She let her head drop back and sighed.

"You should get dressed, Sofia."

He wiped the corner of her mouth, and she resisted the urge to nip his finger. His warm lips met hers, and she opened her eyes, surprised. He kissed her gently, a long, slow kiss. She savored the sensations of his hot, wet mouth and the buzz she got feeding from him.

"Come, meet your people."

She watched him retreat, desire burning within her. Pierre had brought in a dress box and shoe box earlier. She flipped on the light and opened the dress box. Inside was the most beautiful gown she'd ever seen in a mysterious shade of dark blue sprinkled with silver sequins. The dress was thick silk and moved like water as she pulled it free and held it against her.

It must have cost a fortune!

She picked up the box to toss it on the chair when something slid out. She opened the slender jewelry box and gasped. Inside sparkled a diamond choker with an unusually worn, plain charm of a half-sun, half-moon pierced by an arrow. Diamond earrings completed the set.

If the dress didn't break him, the jewelry did! Sofia lifted the choker carefully, touching the charm.

"What are you, little friend?" she murmured. It must have been significant to be surrounded by so many diamonds! She marveled over the clothing and jewelry before changing. She pulled her hair into a simple French twist, the kind she wore to work, and applied her make-up carefully.

Her irises were half silver. Sofia gazed at her two-toned eyes. They sparkled like the blue dress and diamonds. She looked herself over, satisfied that she looked good. Not Claire-good, but good enough.

"His colors and his symbol." Pierre greeted her with an approving smile that buoyed her.

"Is that what this is?" she asked, fingering the charm.

"It's old, maybe as old as him. His family's coat of arms, if they had those then. Very special. Even he does not wear it," Pierre said and motioned her to follow him towards the party below.

She trailed him down the stairs, eyes on the guests milling in the courtyard beyond the opened double doors. Damian and Dustin appeared deep in discussion as she approached. Both wore tuxedos with matching blue cummerbunds, which amused her for such starkly different men. Claire, stunning in maroon and bedecked with diamonds and rubies, looked her over dismissively before returning her gaze to the men.

" _Ikira_ ," Dustin said, breaking away. His blue gaze swept over her. "You look lovely."

She eyed him and then looked to Damian, who stared at her with an intensity she'd last seen aimed at Claire.

_I am so hot._ Sofia almost laughed at herself. She lowered her gaze at the heated look from the man who drove her crazy every other minute of her day. She cleared her throat and focused on Dustin.

"You guys match," she observed.

"Only because of _my_ efforts," Dustin said with an edge that warned her not to laugh.

_He's sensitive about that shit, like a woman,_ Damian whispered into her mind. She coughed to cover her startled laugh. Dustin looked at her then tossed a look over his shoulder at Damian before directing her away.

"Dick," Dustin said under his breath. "Come, _ikira_. The guests must be greeted."

"Is it really necessary?" she asked. Her cheer faded. He motioned her toward the entrance to the courtyard.

"It is."

She felt Damian's gaze on her as they walked away. She wanted to warn him about Claire... Later. After this latest ordeal.

She stood beside Dustin on one side of the entrance while Damian and Claire assumed the other. Claire was all over him, in his space, rubbing her breasts against him. Sofia watched, astonished at the blatant display, and almost didn't prep herself for her first encounter.

The first man was in his prime, and his eyes crinkled in a genuine smile when he clasped hands with Dustin. They exchanged a greeting in a foreign language that sounded like Russian before he held out his hand to her. His eyes went to the symbol at her neck, and one eyebrow shot up. His name... _Sasha._

She saw killing in his future, but only in defense of his family. She released her breath and prepared herself for the next, relieved the encounter wasn't as bad as she expected.

She had greeted ten men and two women before she felt the first flash of cold. The man before her was middle-aged and handsome, but she saw his dealings with Czerno's men. He sold out Damian's men—his own men—for money. _Antoine._

The second traitor came soon after, a man whose past stunned her. She held his hand longer than she should. The man looked no older than Damian and was indeed from the same era.

He and Claire sold out Damian's brother to Czerno. _Isac._

If Damian knew the woman trying to crawl back into his bed had helped murder his brother, her husband... She couldn't see him over the crowd. Her throat tightened in unshed tears of sorrow and anger.

Damian's world was brutal. _Her_ world was brutal.

"Be strong, _kiri,_ " Dustin said without looking at her.

She swallowed hard and held out her hand to another woman in red. The last man in line was the final traitor, a man who'd helped Jilian torture his wife then claimed Czerno's men had done it. _Haydaen._

She all but snatched her hand away, overwhelmed at the images in her head. Dustin escorted the man into the mansion, and Pierre wrapped an arm around her as she sagged.

Pierre unloading his shotgun on the man in executioner's garb from Czerno's. It was dark, cold, and the shots hit the man with lopsided shoulders, dropping him dead to the ground. An explosion blazed in the distance. A woman was screaming, another man shouting.

"So much death," she whispered. She pushed herself away and leaned against a wall. Dustin returned for her. She wiped tears from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, _kiri_ ," he said with rare warmth. "Remember, we want them to fear you. Don't let them see you cry."

She steeled herself and nodded. She didn't want to disappoint him or Damian and couldn't help but dread the conversation to come. She tried to think of how she could soften the pain she'd bring him.

Dustin escorted her into the boisterous banquet room, and her spirits fell further. She was seated at the end of the table opposite Damian while Claire claimed the spot to his left. The seat of honor was given to Sasha. Dustin sat beside her. From what little she knew about etiquette, she was occupying the seat of the lady of the house. A few of the guests cast curious looks her way, and everyone who looked at her seemed more interested in the plain charm at her chest than in meeting her gaze.

Caterers served up food she'd kill to eat. Sofia watched the plates swap out before her as those around her gorged themselves on gourmet dishes she'd only seen on TV. As each course came and went, she felt another piece of her die.

What's done can't be undone.

She stared at the embroidered tablecloth, tormented by the scent of food she couldn't eat and the visions of death and betrayal that left an acrid taste in her mouth. No one spoke to her. She wasn't human. She wasn't one of _them_. A freak among freaks. Would she spend eternity like this, doomed to knowing only the dark secrets of those around her? If Dustin's words were true, she'd never be welcomed into the home of any of Damian's people, not if they feared the sight of her! Once she told Damian about the woman whose hand rested intimately on his arm, who he smiled at with genuine affection...

If not for the dead man in her head, she'd be alone.

She fled the banquet hall for the library. Pierre trailed, balancing a plate of food. She stood before the window, feeling very much like a prisoner in her new world. She wondered if the dead man in her head, Darian, felt this way when he cried. She heard Dustin order Pierre out before he approached her.

"Sofia, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth," Dustin said in a soft, firm voice.

She hugged herself, waiting.

"Claire...?" His unfinished question lingered in the silence between them.

"Yes," she whispered.

He tensed. She looked up at him, sensing both his anger and his regret. His blue eyes were colder than the sky on a winter morning in Virginia. She resisted the urge to move away from him, chilled by the visions of his work as Damian's executioner.

"I thought so," he said at last. His face softened as he looked at her. "You have to tell him, sweetheart."

"It'll kill him."

"He must know. You don't carry this burden alone."

She nodded, throat tight. With a squeeze of her arm, he left her.

"Sofi." Damian's voice jarred her from her thoughts.

She wiped her eyes before turning to face whatever new challenge Damian brought with him. He was accompanied by Dustin and two other men, one she knew as Sasha, a man who'd struck her with his devotedness to his family, and Levi, a man who'd been present in many of his pre-Schism memories.

Damian's gaze swept over her. He was the lord and master again, his form and commanding presence filling up the room. His display of checked power disturbed her.

"Sasha, Levi, this is _Ikira_ Sofia," he said.

"An honor, _ikira_ ," Sasha said with a bow.

"We've waited many years for you, _ikira_ ," Levi said.

"Sasha and Levi are two of my most trusted advisors. Sasha manages the operations for Dusty out of Miami and Levi for Jule in Europe," Damian explained.

"We've been through much together," Levi added. "I owe D my life."

"I'm honored to meet you both," she said.

"Shall we review what you've learned?" Damian asked. His tone was genuinely questioning, and she felt grateful that he was giving her the choice to opt out. She met Dustin's gaze, sensing he felt the same pain she did.

"I'm ready," she said with more confidence than she felt.

They sat around the low table still scattered with pictures. Pierre remained at the door. She sifted through the pictures, aware of the intent attention the others paid her. She found Antoine and drew his picture out. She swallowed hard, uncomfortable with playing the role of judge and jury.

"Antoine," she said. "He's a spy for Czerno. Czerno pays him well for the locations of the safe houses in Europe and the names and locations of the Guardians."

"That we knew," Sasha said with a firm nod.

"Haydaen," she said, drawing out another. "His wife's death was by his own hand. He felt you suspected him and devised a plot with Czerno to torture..." Her voice caught at the images replaying through her mind. Damian reached across the table and touched her face, dismissing them. "... to torture and blame her death on Jilian. He sold out his family for money and land in Italy."

No one spoke. She reached Isac's picture and stopped, looking up at Damian.

"Damian..."

"Whatever it is, it's okay," he said.

"Isac. He killed your brother." She struggled to control her emotions as the words came out. She didn't think anyone heard her choked words. Silence followed. When she was brave enough, she looked up at Damian. He had leaned back in his seat, his face a frozen mask. She met Dustin's penetrating gaze.

"And Claire," she added.

"Claire _what_?" Damian growled in a voice that bordered on inhuman.

"She and Isac." She couldn't bring herself to say what they'd done. The words were too painful, and by the predatory stillness of the man across from her, she was terrified of what he'd do if she said it again. He rose, as if on autopilot, turned, and faced the window.

"I know you're jealous, but this is disgusting," he said in a low voice so sharp she jumped.

"I'd never do that to you," she said, unable to stop the tears she'd been holding back since the start of the evening. "She's sleeping with Czerno and feeding him the names of the new Guardians. She and Isac killed your brother. They plotted together during the hunting trip you and your brother took the day before he died. Claire lured him away from his Guardians to the warm springs by the—"

" _Enough!_ " He faced her, eyes whirling madly. His accusation and fury were plain on his flushed face.

"Why do you think she came here? She wants to find a way to kill you, too!" She forced herself to continue.

"You jealous little bi—"

Before she knew what she did, she'd closed the distance between them and slapped him hard. Fury bubbled within her, breaking free.

"Tonight, I've given you the last shred of me that was human!" she shouted. "I just signed their death warrants, and you think I'd stoop so low as to point the gun at someone because I'm _jealous_? You think I'd sell my soul because of something so stupid? I'm doing this for _you_! This is what I am! But you know what, Damian? Fuck you. _Fuck you_!"

Hurt, she fled into the cold night air, stopping only when she reached the center of the gardens. Pierre trotted after her. She dropped to her knees and sobbed, unable to control her pain and fear.

*

Damian started after her, furious. Dusty caught his arm and motioned for those in the library to leave.

"You're a dick. You know how hard it was for her to tell you that?" his closest friend snapped.

Damian glared at him, his restraint on his powers rippling. Long-buried rage was bubbling upward, along with the tiny instinct he'd squashed thousands of years ago.

"I can't believe—"

"I believe her, Damian," Dusty said in a calm voice. "Claire's been on the European front for a hundred years. She just rotated to the southwest on orders that neither you nor Jule nor I issued, and the Tucson sites have fallen like flies. Because of her natural ability, she's been intimately involved in screening new recruits. It'd be easy for her to flag the newbies for Czerno's men."

Dusty's words floored him, and Damian couldn't help but feel hurt that his best friend hadn't told him of his suspicions sooner. He paced, mind racing with memories he could no longer suppress, thoughts of his brother, of Claire, of Darian's death. Sofia's words freed them from deep within his mind, and Dusty's hammering at the facts made it impossible for him to silence them as he wanted to.

I don't know if I trust my wife, brother.

Maybe Darian hadn't been talking about infidelity but about something else. The memories came faster. Darian was chopped into so many pieces that there'd been no body to bury. Not providing his brother a proper burial—the burial of a king!—had sickened him. Almost as bad, how many others had died from the treachery of a single Guardian? How many Guardians had he lost _this year alone?_ How many humans were dead because he lacked the strength to face his instincts?

He roared and slammed his hands on the desk at the far end of the library, unable to stop the images racing through his mind. Claire was all that remained of his brother, and he'd loved her out of respect for a man whose death he'd never been able to accept. Memories of how much Darian loved Claire, of his own nights in her bed, overwhelmed him. That she'd used him, killed Darian...

"Damian." Dusty's whisper brought him out of his mind, and he realized he was kneeling on the floor with his head bowed. "Brother."

He knew Dusty was right, knew Sofia was right, knew he'd known since just after Darian's death that there was something not right about Claire but was too desperate to hold onto the last piece of his brother to face the truth. He was reliving the pain of Darian's death, sickened by his own cowardice. Darian had even tried to warn him, and he'd never wanted to see what was in front of him.

Forgive me, brother.

"I know, Dusty," he admitted in a thick voice. "I think I've always known."

"No, Damian, you couldn't have known how twisted she was. No one could."

"Even someone who reads minds?" he demanded with a bitter laugh.

"Did you ever read hers?"

"No. It was Darian's rule—if you trust someone, don't do it. She is... was the last of my family."

If he had, how many thousands of lives would have been saved? How good was a Defender of Humanity who purposely looked away from something that led to so many deaths?

"Darian's death is not your fault," Dusty said in a hushed tone.

Damian closed his eyes. Dusty knelt beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

"Trust me," he whispered. "We're in this together."

The words were familiar, the same words he'd spoken to Dusty thousands of years ago, when he'd discovered the youth who was not yet a man on a slave trader's block, bloodied and weeping for the family he'd just lost. He met Dusty's pale blue eyes and saw his pain reflected in Dusty's tight face.

"These Oracles are dangerous," Dusty said with a faint smile. "I forgot that part about them."

"Darian's finally dead to me," Damian said hoarsely. "Tonight, I lose him forever."

"You've still got me and Jule," Dusty reminded him. "And a terrified little Oracle who's sobbing her eyes out right now."

"I fucked that up."

"She's resilient to make it this far. She'll be okay," Dusty said. "As for the traitors, I'm offering up my skill set, if you need it."

"You can have the others. I'll deal with Claire."

"Are you sure?" Dusty asked.

"I should have done this long ago, brother. No one else will die because of me."

Dusty's phone dinged, and he retrieved it. "Jule's asking if you're okay."

"Tell him we identified his Europe issue," Damian said and picked himself up, grateful for Dusty's presence. "Have the four rounded up. Let them sweat for a day, then do whatever you want with the three."

"Interrogation? Execution?"

"Both."

Dusty nodded and strode out. He'd not had to work too hard for confessions in the past thousand years, not after word of his cold, methodological skills leaked to the Guardians. Dusty was a one-man Internal Affairs department. The Guardians knew that betrayal would be confronted by Dusty, and even those loyal to Damian feared him appearing unexpectedly at their door.

Damian knew him well enough to know all the tales weren't true. His reputation alone was enough to make most men weep when confronted. But this time, he suspected Dusty would live up to his legend.

As for Claire... pain spiraled through him. He waited in the library until he'd composed himself and left for his suite. He couldn't stem the memories flooding his mind and felt the wound of Darian's death reopen wider than it had originally been.

Pierre was in front of Sofia's door. Damian stopped, guilty yet too raw to confront her. Pierre glanced up from his video game at his hesitation.

"She sleeps, _ikir_ ," he supplied. "It's the best time to deal with her."

Damian snorted. Pierre's lip was completely insubordinate, and it was obvious he'd never worked for Dusty. Dusty was a stickler for formality from his men, while Jule's hemisphere was far more relaxed. Damian didn't care; Sofia liked Pierre, and he had a feeling Pierre's blunt dose of reality was soothing to her in a world where nothing else made sense.

He entered her room, emitting enough of his power to hide him from her senses. Her curtains were open, as they had been every night since she transformed. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes puffy even in sleep. Her sleep was troubled. He sensed the visions in her head, not surprised to see his own black memories playing on the screens on the back of her eyelids along with a dark nightmare of a man in a corner crying. He wondered if the man was his soul, weeping for his brother.

He sat down heavily in the corner, watching her. He was ashamed of his last words to her. She'd struggled with Claire, wanting to spare him the pain he'd unleashed on her. Her eyes had been shadowed since he met her, her own struggle with her new world taking a visible toll on her. The videos running through her head were dark and disturbing, had been since she entered his world. They drove her away from him and the true purpose of his Guardians. She was alone and segregated, partly because she was new, and partly because an Oracle's soul-reading job was brutal enough that most Oracles—including his mother—killed themselves soon after their full powers manifested within them.

He wanted her to see what he saw, the good his Guardians did for humanity, the courageous, selfless hearts of his men, the difference they made in fighting evil. It was a war his family had been fighting for millennia, one that wouldn't end even with his death. He ached to show her how much she meant to him, to open her closed vision of him and his world and show her the beauty that made him fight as he did.

She saw nothing but death and the darkness in every soul she ran across.

Yet she tried to learn her new role with a selflessness that struck him now as incredible. Everything she did, she did for _him_ , even if she feared him. Jule had always said he inspired men to follow him, though he saw nothing different in what he did than what his deputies did. He'd been as gentle with her as he'd known how, and still she suffered under the weight of the visions. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless to help the small form of the woman before him.

He rubbed his face, mind going to Dusty. Despite his reserve, he could tell Dusty liked her. He suspected it was because the same mettle lining Dusty's backbone lined hers. They had similar cool reserve, unlike Damian and Jule, and had both survived ordeals that would cripple anyone else. He understood why she'd looked at Dusty before telling him about Claire. She'd found courage in a kindred soul.

He leaned forward. He'd hurt her tonight. He didn't want to hurt her. Ever. Even with all his powers, his armies, his ability to read minds, he didn't know how to make things right with her. True, they had eternity to figure each other out, but he didn't want her turning cold like Dusty or jaded like Jule. He loved her fresh innocence, her selfless courage. He loved her hugs, though he'd never experienced hugs since he was a babe. He liked that she sought him out, not as the leader of the Guardians, not as the White God, not as the Defender of Mankind. She wanted _him_ , the man behind the titles and the power.

He'd treated her like shit tonight, and he was at a loss as to how to prevent the tortured existence that became the fate of most Oracles.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He snatched it and Travel himself out of her room before he woke her. Jule's text message brought him back to the unpleasant task ahead of him.

I'll be in town in a day or two. Dusty told me everything.

Grimly, he returned grudgingly to his duties of entertaining his guests, feeling as if he needed to do something for his little Oracle.

*

"Sofia."

She stirred from her trance at the voice, mind replaying scenes of Darian's death. Darian had quieted as the scenes of his violent demise played through her dreams. He sat in the dark corner of her mind, still and silent.

"We must go, Sofia." Pierre spoke from her doorway, framed against the light of the hall. The clock read 2:38.

"Right now?" she asked, confused.

"It's important."

The thought of Czerno loose somewhere in the house made her sit up quickly. She still wore the gown, though strands of hair blinded her and she knew her pillow would be filled with makeup. Pierre eyed her and crossed to her bathroom, tossing several items into her travel bag. She fixed her hair while sliding on her shoes.

"Is Czerno here?" she asked.

" _Mon dieu non!_ "

"Then what's the rush?"

He waved her out and led her at a quick pace to the front door.

"You look terrible," he said, considering her.

"Rough night," she muttered and snatched her makeup bag from him.

A town car with darkened windows awaited them. She spent the next half hour in the dim lighting of the car fixing her makeup with Pierre's persistent pointers. They entered a large neighborhood and drove the same few blocks a few times before stopping in front of a large adobe hacienda walled off from its neighbors.

"Go inside. I'll wait 'til you enter the gate. You'll be safe," he instructed her.

She hesitated then exited the car and shivered in the late night breeze. The town car left as she stepped inside the gate. She knocked on the door. When no one answered, she knocked again. It wrenched open, and a man in a black trench coat Damian's size looked her over once.

"Not tonight. Get the fuck outta here." And he slammed the door. Sofia took a step back and silently urged Pierre to hurry. Damian's men were not the type she wanted to piss off.

"Why are you not inside, mademoiselle?" Pierre asked, agitated as he trotted through the gate. "It's not safe out here."

"You said it was."

"Relatively speaking, it's much safer inside."

Sofia swallowed a retort. Pierre pounded on the door with the discretion of a jackhammer. The door opened, and a different, blond man looked them over before stepping back.

"Pierre," her bodyguard introduced himself, clapping him on the arm.

"Everyone and their mothers are here tonight. You might as well come in," was the surly response.

"What happened?"

"Rainy was supposed to protect a Natural he found. The vamps fucked her up real good tonight."

"What's her talent?" Pierre asked.

"Tracking."

Sofia listened and trailed them through the house that resembled a frat house. The only décor consisted of international beer bottle displays and pictures of scantily clad women or cars. The living room was equipped with a massive flat screen television and worn furniture. They reached a second foyer where the man in the trench stood next to a caramel-colored man covered in blood.

"This is the Tucson Sector team," Pierre said. "They're the Guardians at the operational front of our war. Their job is to kill the vamps and any other of Czerno's creatures while minimizing collateral damage."

"You mean without killing anyone else," she said, crossing her arms again.

"It's one of our most sacred creeds: we do not kill humans. Sometimes we find Naturals, humans with the ability to track Czerno's creatures or to heal our kind or some other natural talent."

"Like me?"

"Sorta."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means you're in a category all by yourself, but if it gets my point across, sure."

"You're an ass, Pierre."

He moved away from her to meet the others. The tension of the stiff forms in the foyer was overwhelming. Without Pierre, she'd never set foot in such a dangerous situation.

"Rainy, Ving, Justin, this is Pierre," the surly blond said.

The bloody man—Rainy— looked at her with pure hostility. The other two were too occupied by whatever happened to do more than glance at the newcomer. Ving—the man in the trench coat—looked at Sofia.

"What the fuck? Lon, did you let her in?" he asked.

"Yeah. She's with him."

The four stared at her. If she ran, they'd eat her, she was sure. So she stayed put and hugged herself more tightly. Pierre was at ease among his own kind.

"You a doctor?" Rainy demanded.

"Damian sent her," Pierre answered.

Rainy hesitated before throwing open the door he guarded. Pierre motioned her forward, and she went, afraid of what she'd find. As she passed Rainy, she noticed the lines of worry in his face. His gaze was stormy, but there was more there, a profound sadness that made the large man more human.

She entered, and Rainy closed the door behind her. A bloodied woman lay on the bed, unconscious and breathing shallowly. A brunette woman worked to stabilize her, and Sofia froze in place.

She didn't want to see more death.

"Can you give me a hand?" the woman called over her shoulder. "I need this hung high."

She held up an IV bag. Sofia forced herself to walk over and take it. The woman looked up at her, surprised. She was in her mid-twenties, with crystal clear blue eyes and porcelain skin.

"I thought you were... never mind," she said, scurrying around the bed. "It's better you help anyway. The boys are clumsy."

Sofia looked down at the beautiful woman on the bed before jerry-rigging the IV over a lamp to keep it elevated.

"Is she going to be okay?" she asked then realized how stupid her question was when she could see the future.

"I'm not sure."

Sofia sat down on the bed, careful to keep the blood from her gown, and touched the woman's face, bracing herself. What she saw amazed her, and her eyes watered, this time out of relief and happiness. _Traci._

"She's bleeding internally," she said.

"Are you sure?" the woman asked.

"It's her spleen. Can you fix that?"

The brunette paled before belting, "Rainy!"

The door flew open. Sofia stood as his hot gaze fell to her, sensing he wanted no stranger near the woman.

"We need to take her to the hospital, _now,_ " the brunette told him.

He shot forward and gathered the woman in his arms while the second woman scrambled to grab the IVs.

"Where the fuck is Damian?" Rainy roared as he tore through the house.

Pierre motioned Sofia aside as the mad rush went through the house to the garage.

"I want to go, Pierre," she said, following.

"Yes, please come," the brunette urged. "I don't know how you know this, but I stopped asking questions awhile ago. C'mon."

The men piled into two Tahoes, and the woman led her to a small Honda. Pierre crammed himself into the backseat.

"I'm Linda," the brunette said.

"Sofia."

They were quiet the remainder of the trip while Sofia dwelled over what she'd seen in Traci's future.

What was Damian doing? Why had he sent her, and where the hell was he? She knew he could heal people. Was he that busy?

She hung back as they entered the hospital and watched the emergency room personnel take Traci. Linda flashed her a strained smile that made her feel welcome for the first time in a week before the pretty brunette gave the blond man, Lon, a hug and kiss. He relaxed visibly with her in his arms.

They waited. Rainy paced, flung himself into a chair, paced again. She didn't like seeing someone else suffer the way she did every time she thought of Cody or Jake or others dying. She approached him. His gaze raked over her.

"Rainy," she said, clearing her throat. "Traci's going to be okay."

"How the fuck would you know?"

"I just do."

"Who _are_ you?" he demanded, approaching her so quickly she backpedaled. His jaw ticked, and his fists were clenched. She cringed away from him as her knees hit a chair. He was ready to snap, and she didn't want to be the first one he took out when he did.

"Careful," Pierre warned from nearby.

"Down, boy," Ving said, taking his arm.

"The babies are okay, too," Sofia added. They all froze, and a look of surprise crossed Rainy's stormy features.

"The _what_?" he demanded.

She said nothing, realizing she'd told him something he didn't know.

"Sofia found the internal bleeding. If I were you, I'd listen to her. Traci will be fine. Sit your ass down," Linda said, planting her small form between them and physically pushing the man who towered over her.

To Sofia's surprise, Rainy obeyed, though he sat across the room and stared at her. She curled up in a chair, afraid to move too quickly under the tense Guardian's gaze. A doctor emerged soon after, hesitating as his gaze swept over the room full of massive, bristling men, until Linda came forward.

"Are you next of kin?" he asked.

"More or less," she said with a smile.

"Come with me."

"Sofia." Linda waved her over. Rainy started to his feet as she rose, and she stopped.

"Dude, chill," Lon said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Pierre drew nearer, and Linda waved her forward again. Sofia went, trailing them down a hall with antiseptic-laced air to an open bay with beds separated by curtains. Traci was alone at the far end of the bay.

"She'll be all right. We had a scare there, but she pulled through. We've stopped the bleeding. She'll have to remain here for a couple of days."

"Thank God," Linda breathed. "And... uh, her babies are okay?"

"She's in the early stages of pregnancy, no more than eight weeks. We'll be watching for signs of trauma. It'll be another two weeks before I'll feel comfortable imaging her uterus to see the fetus."

Sofia listened as she approached Traci's bed and gazed down at the unconscious woman. The woman was hooked to a ventilator and IVs, her battered face clean and pale. The doctor left, and Linda joined her.

"Czerno is a monster," Sofia whispered.

"He is," Linda said. "Lon—my husband—has had his own run-in with Czerno."

"So have I," she said. She felt Linda's gaze.

"It's why they do what they do, to protect humanity from that fate."

At her curious look, Linda continued.

"Their war, it's been going on for thousands of years. Damian is their leader. Lon says he's not... normal, if you'd call any of them normal. I guess D is something less normal than my Lon. Anyway, the war between Czerno and D is for the fate of us puny humans," Linda explained.

"Why would creatures like them bother?" Sofia asked.

"I don't know, but I'm glad they do. I've only met Damian once, when he saved Lon's life after Czerno chewed him up and spit him out. His men worship him. He's helped all of them somehow, though he terrified me the time I did meet him."

"He has that effect on people," Sofia said dryly.

"Are you one of the Naturals, like Traci?"

"Not really."

"Is she having boys?" Linda asked.

"Girls, two of them."

"Rainy with two girls? No way! He'll be inconsolable," Linda said with a delighted laugh.

Sofia smiled and looked at the pretty woman beside her. There was a natural sense of cheerfulness to her that she liked.

"May I... could you shake my hand?" she asked lamely.

Linda's brow furrowed, but she held out her hand. Sofia gripped it, the touch enough to reveal a future like Traci's, filled with love and joy.

"Am I pregnant, too?" Linda teased. "That's an awesome pregnancy test, by the way."

"No, you're not," Sofia answered with a smile. "You will be soon."

Linda grinned. "We better get Rainy in here before he tears down the hospital looking for her."

"I'm not staying. He's an inch away from wringing my neck," Sofia said, following. Her stomach growled.

"You wanna get some food?"

Sofia bit her lip and crossed her arms, unable to admit she couldn't really eat. "Sure."

Linda sent Rainy to Traci and walked with her to the cafeteria. Pierre trailed them at a distance just out of earshot, and Linda looked at her curiously.

"He's wearing the color of the bodyguards," she observed. "You must be someone important."

"Not really. I'm a lost sheep," Sofia said.

"Strange. You seem to know what you're doing."

"I'm... new to Damian's organization. One week new, to be exact. I don't really know which way is up right now."

"Wow, Sofia. First, welcome, and congrats! These are the finest men you'll find anywhere," Linda grinned.

"Thanks."

"Second, who's your sponsor?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, no one gets in without a reason. Someone brought you in," Linda said wisely. They sat at a table near the windows.

"Why did they bring you in?" Sofia asked.

"Lon found me. I'm a Natural. I have the ability to levitate things."

"Really? Like anything?"

"Yep."

"So, if Lon said something stupid to you, you could toss him into the air and leave him there until he agreed to treat you with an ounce of respect. And if he didn't, you could leave him there and do whatever the hell you wanted for the day?" Sofia asked with more emotion than she intended. Linda looked at her, and she cleared her throat, anger spiraling through her again.

"I guess I'd never thought of that," Linda admitted, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. "But yeah, I could do that."

Sofia watched her take a bite of a muffin, at once longing and agitated. She was hungry. After her explosion at Damian, she'd have to beg for food. And she'd never demean herself to that man. She'd just have to starve to death.

"I do understand how frustrating this all seems when you first join," Linda went on. "Well, you don't really _choose_ to join."

"You're telling me," Sofia said with emotion. "One day I'm normal. The next, I can't stand daylight and Damian is beating down my door."

"Damian?" Linda's amazement increased. "Damian's your sponsor?"

She nodded.

"I _totally_ have to tell Lon. Hold on a sec." Linda whipped out a phone to text Lon. "You have no idea how special you are if D is your sponsor. Or how lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Yeah, sure. He's dreamy, runs his own um, business, and he's got, like, Superman powers. He's like a modern-day king who's in charge of the superheroes trying to beat down the evil villains."

Sofia recalled how much her first meeting with him had scared her. His aura of power, his command and confidence, the sense that—whatever he was—he was something humankind wasn't prepared to face.

"He's just a good guy," Linda continued. "He's been after bad guys for thousands of years, and he's never gone to the Dark Side or quit or anything. That says a lot for someone, you know? He's good to his men. Lon and the others adore him. I like him, even if he scares me."

_This world is so fucked up I don't know why I bother._ His cranky words echoed in her thoughts, and she smiled to herself. No one but her saw the other side of Damian.

"They do so much to help people," Linda said, looking down as her phone dinged. "Lon doesn't believe me. Oh, well. Where is Damian?"

"I'm definitely not his keeper," Sofia said with a shrug.

The sun peeked over the horizon, reminding her that she'd gotten only a few hours of bad sleep. Linda texted back and forth with her husband for a few minutes.

"Traci's awake. I'll be right back," she said, hopping up.

Sofia gazed out the window, mulling over the night. She began to suspect Damian sent her there so she could meet the other women dragged into his organization. Or maybe he just wanted her out of the house so he could kill the traitors.

_Oh, ye of little faith,_ he said into her mind.

"I hate that," she answered.

I know.

"What do you want, Damian?"

I owe you an apology.

"Well, man up and do it in person."

"A little testy today, aren't we?"

She jumped, watching as he folded himself into the small chair across from her. His scent made her heart quicken and her drowsiness dissipate. Her breath caught as she gazed at him, and she looked for any sign he was still angry at her. His golden eyes were calm, his large frame relaxed with the feline grace that made her hormones wild. His power was checked but his unusual presence enough to draw the looks of those around them. Most moved away quickly, sensing there was something about him that just wasn't normal.

His gaze was trained on her with an intensity that made her body warm from the inside out.

"Well?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Sofia, for being a dick."

"Apology accepted," she said and looked down. "I'm so sorry about Claire. I knew it would hurt you."

"No worries." His aloof response made her look up. His gaze was wary and moving, and he was guarded once more. Even after thousands of years he was reliving the pain of his brother's death. If she closed her eyes, she'd see the home video of Darian's funeral pile. Her heart went out to him. "I think I'd known for a long time and didn't want to face it. I probably could have gone much longer ignoring her."

"She would have killed you."

"She would have _tried_."

"You can risk your life, but I won't," Sofia retorted.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you cared."

"I do care about you, Damian, even though you're a total jackass," she said.

"For the record, you're the only person in history who could get away with half the shit you say," he told her.

"I know."

The warmth of his smile was not lost on her, and she thought about what Linda had said about him. Maybe the cheerful woman was right—maybe there was more to Damian than she gave him credit for.

"D." It was Lon, whose gaze went to her as he approached.

"Morning, Lon," Damian said and twisted to face the Guardian.

"Guess I lost that bet," he muttered. "She's okay and says thanks. The doc can't figure out what happened. He should release her today."

"Glad I could help."

"Rainy would have come, but he won't leave her side. Poor sap."

"No worries. How's Linda?" Damian asked.

"Good. Still won't let me live down almost dying." His gaze went to her and then back to Damian expectantly. Damian ignored his hint, and Lon didn't press.

"Women are stubborn like that," Damian said.

"See you at the next barbecue?" Lon asked, holding out his hand.

"Wouldn't miss it," Damian said and stood to shake his hand.

"Linda says you can call her whenever you want," Lon said, handing Sofia a tissue with a phone number and smiley face written on it.

"Thanks." She watched him go then turned to her bodyguard. "Pierre, you want my croissant?"

"I do," Damian said and snatched the pastry.

"It's because I'm French, isn't it? You assume we French all eat croissants," Pierre complained.

"This is sooooo good," Damian said, pinning her with a look as he wolfed down the second half.

"Just when I start to like you... you know, it's amazing even a man who's _thousands_ of years old can act like a twelve-year-old. Pierre. Car. Now." She glared at him. Furious, she stood and breezed past him, not surprised when he opted not to ride home with her.

She didn't see Damian until afternoon, when he strolled into the library from sparring, ear to a cell phone. He was naked from the waist up and sweaty, a combination that made her sit up and pay attention.

"I don't know what she's talking about," he said with a grimace and handed the phone to her before striding out.

"Hello?" she took the phone and asked curiously.

"Hi Sofia, this is Linda! How are you?"

"Good, thanks. Everything all right?"

"Oh yeah. I was telling D that Rainy went off the deep end when we told him about the girls!" She giggled. "Traci told him not to think about asking her to marry him just because she's pregnant, and he said she had _no_ choice and he'd drag the priest to her. He almost beat down her door. They're in this horrible tiff right now."

"Wow, I didn't mean to start this," Sofia said.

"The doc would have noticed she was pregnant, just not the twin part and the girls part."

"Right. Totally _not_ my fault then."

Linda laughed. "Listen, I wanted to see if you wanted to go Christmas shopping with us this weekend. It's one of the last weekends before Christmas. I'm way behind, and Traci—"

Since when did the concept of Christmas shopping seem so bizarre?

_Since I became some sort of recently resurrected fortune-telling vampire._ It was something normal people did during this time of year, something she'd done every year for twenty-three years.

"—count you in?" Linda asked.

Sofia covered the speaker. "Pierre, am I allowed to go Christmas shopping?"

"I hate this fucking library," he responded.

"Is that a yes?"

" _Oui_."

"Linda, I'll go."

"Great! We'll pick you up. Are you at D's?" Linda asked.

"Yeah."

"Traci's been there. She'll drive. We'll see you Saturday at nine."

"Great, thanks." Sofia hung up the phone, feeling as if she were emerging from a stupor for the first time in months. While she couldn't shake the sense of doom that followed her from the visions, she felt more normal, less afraid, at the thought that she'd be rejoining the rest of humanity for a shopping trip with the girls, even if only for a morning.

She left the library to return Damian's phone. It rang loudly in the hall, a rap song spitting F-bombs that made her eyebrows rise. She hesitated then answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Do I have D's number?" a warm, male voice on the other end said.

"Yes."

"And who are you?"

"Sofia. Who are _you_?"

There was a pause before the man on the other end answered. "Jule, a friend of his. I'm in town right now on an errand."

"Are you a good friend?" she asked.

"I'd like to think so," he said with a chuckle. "We met when he was a teen and went through some rough stuff together."

"Yeah, I know. His is a sordid history. What kind of a person was he when you met?"

"He's always been the best man I know," was the unhesitant response. His voice held an upbeat note and natural warmth that she liked. He wasn't like Dustin, who seemed more likely to kill a stranger than talk to one.

"If you all are on the side of good, why is there so much death?" she demanded.

"Trust me, there'd be more if the bad guys won. It's not easy being the good guy, and it's a job not many people can do. You have to stay true to your values while destroying something as well. It's rough," he said and gave a surprised laugh.

Damian trotted from the stairs toward the courtyard and paused, looking at her curiously.

"I'm having an issue reconciling the two," she admitted.

"Who?" Damian mouthed. She waved him away.

"We've all gone through that stage. You have to look at it like this: would you want someone to help you if something bad happened?" Jule continued.

"Yes."

"Exactly. But not everyone can do what we do, because we're, well, different than normal people. We're in a unique position to help people who can't help themselves against bad guys who want to hurt them," he said.

"I see. You have no regrets?" she asked, unconvinced.

"No way in hell, and neither does D. Because of us, many innocent people have been able to live their lives, and humanity thrives," Jule said with conviction she envied.

Damian watched her, eyes narrowing.

"I see why he likes you," she said quietly. "Thanks for talking to me. He'll call you back."

"Sofi—" Jule started to object.

She hung up and tossed Damian the phone.

"I'm going shopping Saturday," she told him. "And Jule called. He's in town."

"That's who you were talking to?" Damian demanded. She didn't miss the way he bristled but turned her back to him to return to the library.

"Yep. He's a good guy."

Don't answer my phone.

"Then stop doing that!"

No deal.

He drove her crazy, and she was hungry again. Always, always hungry. Was she destined to spend the rest of her life starving?

"Your drug dealer's still in business. For now."

"That's not funny," she said, turning to glare at him.

"No?" he asked, approaching her with a languid walk that stirred her blood.

He stopped in her personal zone, too close, but she wasn't about to back down this time. She crossed her arms and looked up at him, meeting his steady look with a challenging one of her own.

"You're getting braver, _kiri_ ," he said in a husky tone.

She tried not to let it affect her but suspected by his look of satisfaction that he saw how quickly her face changed colors.

"If you're half the man everyone tells me you are, you'll send Han some flowers. He's going to break his leg tomorrow."

"At your service, Oracle."

She ached to touch him but refused, hugging herself more tightly instead. Her nerve began to frazzle. She walked away.

"Sofia." There was a serious note in his voice that made her stop. His gaze was on her chest. She fingered the necklace there.

"The diamonds were a bit overwhelming for daily wear," she admitted. "I restrung it onto one of my chains."

He said nothing, and she saw the look that crossed his face, as if he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Is that okay?" she asked.

"Very." He spun on his heel and left. She watched him go, admiring and puzzled.

"My dear Han, you were right about these damn moods," she said in the empty hallway. He was worse than a woman PMSing.

_You're full of shit,_ he said into her thoughts.

She gritted her teeth, hating the fact he had open access to her thoughts and worse—he could _respond_ to them!

"No," Pierre said, blocking the library as she approached. "I'm not wasting any more of my time in there."

"I have one more thing to do," she said, holding up her list. "Why don't you go spar? I promise not to leave."

He gave her a look of supreme distaste before he, too, walked away.

What was it with these men and their moods? She shook her head and returned to the library. In truth, it was the one place in the house where she felt safe and comfortable when she wasn't with Damian.
CHAPTER TEN

Claire didn't look any worse for wear after a day in the offsite location Dusty had scouted as a temporary dungeon for their prisoners. If not for the worried flicker of her gaze past him to see who followed, Damian would have thought this a social call.

"Dusty's not here," he said, irritated by the inference that _he_ was somehow someone to be less feared.

"I guess I should feel honored to have your personal attention," she said acidly.

She sat on one of two fold-out chairs in the concrete room, legs crossed and hands in her lap. He pulled up the other chair and sat across from her.

"Two hundred and sixty three," he started. "That's the number of Guardians you've killed directly with your actions over the past few thousand years. In an organization of less than five thousand, that's a lot."

"I offered to become your queen after Darian died," she replied. "You threw me out with nowhere to go after the man who was meant to be my husband was killed. Who do you think paid the bills if you didn't?"

"I'm not sure how betraying everything your husband stood for would excuse anything you did. You're a pretty twisted bitch."

Her eyes narrowed. Damian regarded her coolly, unwilling to let someone so undeserving get the best of him. When he wanted, he could be as cold as Dusty.

"You'd never understand," she replied.

"You're right. I'd never kill my mate or sell myself to Czerno."

"It's that bitch, isn't it?" she exclaimed, rising and pacing. " _I_ was meant to be at your side, not her!"

Damian felt something cool further within him at the reference to Sofia.

"You were meant to be at _Darian's_ side. Your skills as an Oracle were terrible, but he would've mated with you anyway," he corrected her.

She shook her head as if _he_ were the fool.

"Will you tell me why you betrayed him before I kill you?" he asked with calmness at odds with the storm in his breast.

Claire glanced away then back at him, taking in the resolve on his face. Suddenly she was mewling, kneeling beside him, her hands on his thigh and her face soft and beguiling.

Like the night she'd come to visit him upon arriving in Tucson. Damian gritted his teeth, remembering how tempted he'd been by the same ruse a few nights before.

"Forgive me, Damian. What I did was wrong," she whispered. There were tears in her eyes, and she looked sincere.

She killed Darian.

Damian stood and moved away, emotions roiling. How could someone so treacherous have lived under his nose for thousands of years? How had he ever turned a blind eye to her? He touched her mind for the first time ever, and his resolve solidified at the images he saw there.

She'd never loved Darian and had used him to gain his title and power. Her betrayal struck him even harder.

"It doesn't matter, Claire," he whispered. "You killed my brother and two hundred sixty-three other Guardians."

She rose and dusted off her legs from where she'd knelt. Her eyes flashed with defiance, and she glowered at him.

"You've had tens of thousands of years to get rid of me. You can't tell me you never looked into my thoughts with your god-powers!" she snapped.

"I didn't," he said. "I promised Darian."

"Even when we were fucking?"

"Even when we were fucking," he said evenly. "I have honor, Claire."

"Tell me, Damian, does she fuck the way you like it? Can she do for you what I did?"

"Leave her out of this, Claire." His growl was inhuman, a warning she didn't heed.

"I was meant to be at your side, not some stupid _human_!"

"There's no chance of that now, is there? I don't even expect to let you live tonight."

As if finally realizing her game was called, she hesitated then said, "I'll tell you everything you want to know about Czerno."

"I want to know why you killed my brother." Damian managed to get the difficult words out through clenched teeth.

She appeared pensive and shrugged. "I don't remember anymore."

Fury lit his insides as he regarded her easy dismissal for one of the most painful events of his life. Worse—he saw in her mind that what she said was true. She didn't remember, and she didn't care.

"Damian," she purred, approaching him and resting her hands on his chest. "I'll tell you everything you don't know about Czerno in exchange for my life. I swear, I'll tell you all and disappear."

Her touch was like poison! He glared down at her, looking for some sign of the woman he'd thought she was.

"I don't give a fuck about Czerno, Claire. I loved Darian. I love Sofia. At one point, I think I loved you, too."

"We can—"

He pushed her away from him and drew a deep breath, withdrawing a pistol from the small of his back.

"You're a _traitor_." He spit the word. "You've killed so many, and I've been too afraid to see you for what you are. Tonight, you're nothing to me."

She stared at him, her surprise the first genuine emotion he'd seen. He gathered his power and sent it toward her, wrapping it around her tightly.

"Claire, your immortality is revoked."

"Damian, don't!" she shouted as the invisible hands lifted her and stripped her of her immortal gift. They dropped her to the floor. She scrambled up and stared at him, terrified.

Damian took aim with the pistol and fired into her heart before she could make another sound. She dropped. He stood over her, watching the life fade from her eyes. Images of his brother played through his thoughts, images of Claire's father presenting her to Darian, of their visible love, of Darian's death, of his own involvement with Claire...

The images hit fast and hard, even as he exited the compound and destroyed it with a flash of power. He stood and watched it burn, feeling as if a part of him burned with it.

A part of him did. What was left of Darian went up in the second funeral pile in his honor. Damian closed his eyes to the heat and light, tormented by his brother's death and his own cowardice.

Forgive me, brother.

*

Miles away, Sofia couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong with Damian. His mind was closed, his home videos playing too faintly for her to hear. Whatever he was going through, he was doing his best to block her.

"C'mon, _kiri_ ," Dustin said, poking his head into the library.

She unraveled herself from her favorite chair near the window. Dark had fallen an hour before. She pocketed her list and trailed him to the area just beyond the patio, where the scent of hot dogs and s'mores greeted her long before she reached the small group circled around a bonfire. Linda and Traci were there. She hid a smile at the look on Linda's face. The brunette stood between Traci and Rainy, as if she were trying to broker a peace deal between two warring countries.

Traci was stunning, from her supermodel body to her delicate, elfin features. Her arms were crossed, and though she smiled at Lon, Sofia could see her level of comfort was equal to hers among the giants that towered even above a supermodel.

Relief flooded Linda's features as she saw Sofia. She hurried from between the two warring factions and hugged her. Sofia forced herself not to recoil, afraid to touch anyone.

"I'm glad you're here," Linda whispered. "This is _awful._ "

Sofia felt Rainy's hard gaze but avoided his heated look.

"Traci, come here!" Linda called, flashing a smile. The supermodel all but bolted from the midst of the male forest around her. "This is Sofi. She saved your life."

Traci's hand fluttered to her stomach, and Sofia's face flamed.

"I'll get you some food," Linda said, bouncing away.

"She's so sweet," Traci murmured as she left. "I'd go crazy here if not for her."

"I completely understand," Sofia said.

"Linda says you're newer than me. This world will screw with your mind."

"Yeah."

An awkward quiet fell, and she sensed Traci was as reserved as she was. Linda returned with two hotdogs and handed one to each of them.

"You have to eat for three now, Traci," she said cheerfully.

"There goes that modeling career," Traci whispered. Sofi pitied the beautiful woman as a stricken look crossed her features.

Pierre walked by and snatched Sofia's hotdog. She was grateful; the scent was both nauseating and infuriating. Linda eyed him.

"She doesn't eat," he called over his shoulder.

"You're not starving yourself, are you?" Linda asked, turning to her in concern.

"She's blood bound," Pierre supplied, unasked.

Sofia glared at him, her embarrassment deepening at the look the men around the fire gave her. Any hope she'd had of them not understanding how different she was died. Their looks ranged from amazement to surprise to Dustin's look of disapproval aimed at Pierre.

"What does that mean?" Traci asked.

"It means, she doesn't eat," Dustin said, coming to her rescue. "Why don't you all sit down? Grande, Lon, move."

They complied, and the three women sat in lawn chairs.

"Do you eat s'mores?" Linda prodded, handing her the plate going around.

"Lin, we'll talk about it later," Lon told her softly. "Just skip the food."

Did they think she was a freak? She couldn't tell. Linda was too easygoing to be affected by much of anything, and the men seemed more surprised than anything else.

_It's the greatest honor to be bound to a man like Damian._ Han's words returned, and she forced herself to relax. No matter what anyone else thought, it was her reality. It must not have been totally unheard of if they all understood what it was.

"How long have you been a part of this insanity?" she asked Linda.

"Two years, or just under. It's kinda neat to know we're helping save the world from bad guys."

"You seem pretty happy," Traci observed. "Maybe in two years..."

Sofia saw her pain and couldn't help but empathize.

"He loves you," she said quietly. "I saw it in his face when he almost killed me for being anywhere near you."

Traci's gaze flew to her. There was turmoil in her pale blue eyes.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" she asked, one eyebrow arching. "I'll make his life a living hell if so."

Sofia shook her head.

"Jackass," she muttered.

Sofia exchanged a look with Linda, and the chipper woman took the hint.

"You guys excited about shopping Saturday? I have a few places picked out already. This has to be my favorite time of year, and the one time Lon promises not to dissect our credit card bills."

"Yeah, I can think of some places I'd like to go," Traci said. "I've been living in the bachelor pad with the guys for three months now. I definitely need some girl stuff."

"We'll totally load up. Rainy will have to get used to pink stuff being everywhere."

"That he will," Traci said with a small smile.

"Are there more of us?" Sofia asked Linda.

"Naturals mated with Guardians?" Linda grinned. "Yep. We have our own support group. I'll send you the link to our online forum. There aren't many of us, and we're all over the world, but we're really close-knit. We have to be. Who else can you tell about your husband beheading five vamps?"

"I can't believe all this," Sofia said with a surprised laugh. "It doesn't seem real."

"Hon, it's as real as it gets," Linda assured her. "You'll have to make some sacrifices, but it's worth it." Her adoring gaze went to Lon. Sofia exchanged an understanding look with Traci.

"Maybe in two years..." Traci said again.

"Can you have cocoa?" Linda asked.

"Nothing."

"I don't understand what blood bound is," Traci said.

Sofia took a deep breath. "Well, Czerno's henchmen killed me. Damian brought me back, but I can't live without... his blood. I need it instead of food."

"How romantic!" Linda exclaimed.

"I don't really think of it that way," Sofia said, eyeing her. "It kinda hurt getting killed, and it really sucks not being able to eat food."

"It is romantic," Traci agreed. "What a wonderful story."

"You think so? You don't think it's crazy?"

"No!" they said simultaneously.

"Sofi, none of us are normal. Maybe in the human world, it'd be totally insane. I don't mean that in a mean way," Linda said quickly. "But you have a new family now, and it doesn't sound crazy to me at all. It sounds like a fairytale."

Traci was gazing at her intently. Sofia saw the tears form in her gaze.

"Excuse me," Traci said, standing. "Sofia, is there a restroom?"

"I'll show you," Sofia said.

"We'll be back," Traci promised Linda.

They walked toward the house, reaching the patio before Traci started crying. Sofia stood helplessly for a long minute.

"I'm sorry. Maybe it's my hormones. Or maybe I'm just not... this is so unreal!"

"Pierre, go please," Sofia said, knowing he'd be there when she turned. "I'm not going past the bathroom."

He moved away without returning to the group.

"Come on," she said, placing a hand on Traci's arm. She guided the crying woman inside to her library and dug through the small satchel near her favorite chair. "I've been crying for a week straight. I've figured out which tissues are the softest."

Traci choked on a half-laugh, half-sob and accepted the packet of tissues. She sat down, sobbing her heart out, and Sofia sat near her. God, how she understood the uncertainty and confusion Traci felt!

"You again."

She turned at Rainy's voice. His green eyes shifted from her to Traci. Sofia hesitated before standing. She left them alone and returned to the group, deep in thought. The growing night chill had driven Linda into Lon's arms, and she relaxed near the fire. The men spoke among themselves, swapping war stories and discussing the Tucson Sector's influx of vamps. They ignored her, and she rested her head on the back of the chair, their low talk and the warmth of the fire lulling her into another trance.

Images flowed behind her eyelids, most too fleeting to catch. Damian's home videos played, intertwined with those of others, until a wave of power washed over her. She jerked upright. The Guardians had frozen in mid-speech and were looking toward the mansion.

"Don't worry about it," Dustin said, his eyes locked on the house. "He's had a rough day."

Their gazes lingered before they returned to their conversations. Sofia glanced at Dustin and stood, concerned. Damian was not one to lose control. If he had, something horrible had happened. She closed her eyes, searching for the home videos. Visions of his brother.

Claire's death.

Stop.

His command was so sharp she jumped. She felt more compelled to him now than ever before.

"Sofia," Dustin called as she stepped toward the house. " _Kiri_ , you've never seen him like this."

"He needs me," she said.

He searched her gaze and pursed his lips but lifted his chin toward the house.

"Pierre, stay," he ordered.

" _I'm_ not going in there," Pierre assured him, earning him another look of disapproval.

The sense of power increased tenfold as she entered the mansion. The lights were on, but shadows crawled from the corners and choked the lights until they were shriveled, glowing orbs. The shadows clung to her as she stepped into the hallway. They moved like smoke, shifting and swirling as they crawled the walls. They formed a fog at her feet and trailed her toward the stairwell.

She swallowed hard. Damian needed her. Shadows chased her up the stairs and flew down the halls, coating the floors and walls in shallow, black fog. The power swirling in the air around her grew as she neared Damian's door, and she was reminded of the tension in the air before a thunderstorm. Only this was equal to a hundred thunderstorms.

She didn't know what Damian was, but he was beyond Superman powerful.

_Leave._ His command reached her as she opened his suite door. He stood on the balcony, visible beyond the transparent curtains rustling in the moving haze. She hesitated before moving forward again.

"Sofia." The warning in his voice was plain. His whisper reached her across the room.

"No," she told him.

Fear unfurled in her breast, and she clenched her fists. Shadows crawled over the world around her, and the tension in the air made it hard to breathe. The hair on her arms and neck stood up. She'd never seen him not in control. His powers were quiet and exploring, crawling over the physical world.

The air around him was even harder to breathe. Her breaths quickened, and her heart pounded.

"You need me," she managed.

"I need _nothing_ from this world!" he said with an undertone that was purely inhuman. His fury, pain, and sorrow choked her. Her eyes watered at the soul-wrenching emotions. She'd never felt pain like his!

"Damian."

He whirled and stalked toward her, his face a mask of fury. She sidestepped him and retreated until the balcony railing trapped her. He planted his hands on either side of her and lowered his face to her level. His presence was overwhelming, and her body reacted with both terror and lust so strong it made her head spin.

His eyes were black, fathomless, the eyes of a god among men.

"Tell me, Seer, what do you See?" he rasped in the inhuman voice.

Her breaths came in short gasps, but she refused to back down. She belonged to his world as much as he did. She belonged to _him._

"I see a man who just lost the last connection to someone he loved to his soul," she whispered.

The burst of furious power shot through her, the shockwave rattling the windows of the house. She closed her eyes. An eerie quiet followed, and she wasn't sure if he'd shed his human body and take out her and everything else.

She opened her eyes when nothing happened, shaking from both cold and fear. Damian's head was bowed, his tense body still. Compelled to him like nothing else in the world, she touched his face with a quivering hand. He was still for a long moment before he nuzzled it. She raised the other hand to his other cheek, sensing his resistance. A moment later, it melted, and he embraced her. She wrapped her arms around him, at home again.

"I was getting ready to destroy the world."

Cold fear trickled through her. He wasn't joking.

"Good thing I felt hungry tonight," she said.

"You were right. I was a coward," he said after a moment. "My brother loved her with all his soul. She was all I had left of him."

She listened, struck by the sorrow in his voice.

"Such is the weakness of a man," he added bitterly.

"You're not weak, Damian," she said, propping her chin on his chest to look up at him. "I've seen your soul, you know."

"It serves me right. I've been spying on the thoughts of humanity for thousands of years. Guess it's my turn."

"I'm glad you didn't destroy the world," she whispered.

"For the record, you're fucking crazy. I could have killed you."

"It's the least I could do. You're there for me when I need you," she said. "Even if your attitude sucks."

He chuckled hoarsely and spread butterfly kisses across her forehead, hugging her against him even tighter. She loved being in his arms!

"My sweet, pain in the ass Oracle. Looks like it was a good idea bringing you back from the dead after all."

"That's the worst thing you've ever said to me!" she cried, offended.

She felt the tension within him melt, and the restless shadows wrap around her, cocooning them before retreating. She'd never felt a surrender like his. His guard was down for the first time since she'd known him. The idea of him being vulnerable to anyone floored her. From his home videos, he'd never lowered his guard to anyone, even Claire. Awed by the power she had over him, she began to understand the extent of his solitary existence for the millennia of his life. He'd known love and trust only in the earliest stage of his life, when he had a family before he entered the dark age of his people. He'd been alone since, except for his two adopted brothers. He'd never been able to share his pain with anyone else.

Her stomach growled.

"So you _are_ hungry."

"I'm always hungry," she grumbled.

"Can't get enough of me."

Jackass.

He drew away from her, and she met his black gaze. Hot desire flowed through her and was mirrored on his face. His gaze was direct, just short of demanding. She took a step back.

He offered his wrist, and she knew he was offering much more. She shook her head, mouth too dry to speak. She wanted him, God did she want him!

"When I'm ready to destroy the world, you waltz in like it's nothing. When it's just _us_ , you run. How does that work, Sofia?" he challenged in a husky tone.

It was one thing to offer her body, but her heart, her soul... he would take all of her, consume her completely, irrevocably. She stood on a ledge, considering a swan dive into the depths of the universe. As much as she wanted him, _needed_ him, she was terrified to take the final step that would make her his for eternity.

"It's okay, _kiri_ ," he said, softening. He touched her hair. "Come to me tomorrow morning. I'm not yet in control of myself."

She was more grateful to him in that moment than she'd ever been. She took his hand and kissed his palm, then ran to her library, mind racing with what she'd learned about him.

*

Damian listened to the door close behind her, stunned by what he'd seen in her thoughts. Love. Pure, sweet, unconditional. For _him_ of all things! He'd heard it in her thoughts even if she didn't speak the words, and her ability to see through him as he did everyone else amazed him.

He'd never thought much of that talent, the ability to see into someone. He'd always found something wrong, something evil or bad, no matter how small the inclination. Except in her.

"Brother, come out of the shadows," he said, weariness in his voice.

"I wouldn't intrude."

"Bullshit. You were making sure I didn't hurt her."

Dusty said nothing but drew abreast of him.

"Thank you," he said and leaned again on the railing. "I hope you'd have kicked my ass if I did."

"Puh-lease, brother. What makes you think I didn't follow to make sure she didn't chicken out?" Dusty challenged.

"Glad she passed your test. She probably doesn't realize what happens to people who don't."

"We'll keep it that way."

Damian chuckled despite himself, unable to shake the negative emotions running through him. He felt both spent and wired, his head too full of memories to control.

"Are you okay?" Dusty asked.

"I am now," he replied. He drew a ragged breath.

"I don't want a woman, but if I did, I'd want one like _kiri_ ," Dusty admitted. "I saw the way she looked at you. D, _I'm_ in love with her."

"She's a lot like you."

"I don't cry that much."

"She's got your lip," Damian teased.

Dusty rolled his eyes. Damian regarded him, reminded again how fortunate he was to have friends like his. Dusty met his gaze with his clear blues, concerned and relieved.

"It's been a good week. We found an Oracle, executed some traitors, chased down bad guys, hosted the Quarterly, and are evac-ing soon."

"Just when I start to get bored with life," Damian agreed. "Jule's missed most of it."

"Serves him right. He forgot my birthday _again_."

"What is it with you and your birthdays? Every year you bitch about it," he said, enjoying the distraction from his dark thoughts.

"I like my birthdays," Dusty said defensively. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"If you say so. I don't even know when mine is."

"July twenty-seventh on the current calendar. Jule's is November third."

"You've got issues, bro."

"Fuck you, Damian," Dusty said in irritation. "It's the little things that count."

Damian shook his head, comforted by the little Oracle and his adopted brother.

"You did the right thing," Dusty said. "Give yourself a break and get some rest."

He slapped him on the arm and disappeared. Damian gazed at the dark landscape. Sleep was as far from his mind as possible. He thought instead of Claire and Sofia. At one point after his brother's death, he'd considered making Claire his queen. Respect for his brother's memory stopped him. In hindsight, he wondered how he'd ever been fooled or why he'd settle for Claire when there was someone like Sofia out there, who'd love him for him and not for his title.

He spent the night deep in thought, forcing himself to face the dark memories he'd tried so hard to bury.

*

Two awoke from a dream. He sat up, sweating. He didn't remember the dream, but he saw that _kiri_ was crying again.

"It's okay, _kiri_ ," he said.

She'd been quiet for a day or two, going everywhere with him, a companion in his head who was beyond the touch of his angry master. She was _his_ , and she brought him a sense of peace.

I'm scared.

It was the first time he'd understood the words she spoke to him. Two swung his legs off the bed, holding his breath in case she spoke again. Her voice was tiny and quiet.

I'm scared.

He didn't know what to do.

"It's okay, _kiri_ ," he said again.

So much death in this world.

"We're not dead, _kiri_."

You are.

"I'm not dead. Are you?"

Not anymore.

He rubbed his face, his fingers slowing as he felt his scars. They were thick and gruesome, creating ridges and channels in his face. He traced his fingers over the scars on his hands and followed them up his arms, then his chest, then his legs. They were everywhere, like the mountain ranges surrounding their hideout. He didn't remember what made the scars, and he didn't realize how many there were.

"Maybe I am dead," he said, tracing the scars down to his feet.

You are.

He was breathing. He felt the pain of the last blow his master had given him before bed. His feet were cold, and he was hungry. Always hungry. Did he ever eat? He wasn't allowed to drink the juice he liked anymore.

"No, _kiri_ , I am alive," he said.

He couldn't sleep when she cried. Two mechanically dressed and left his room. The halls were quiet. He walked without knowing exactly where he went. The halls narrowed and sloped, and he knew he'd been this way before even though he didn't remember when. He paused before a keypad and looked at his hand. There were three sets of numbers written in green ink on his palm. He typed the first in. The door opened and led to another keypad. He entered the second number and came to the final keypad. He typed in the last number.

The desert night was cold and dark. He looked around and found a familiar dirt trail that led to a large rock overlooking the desert he'd sat on earlier to watch the sunset.

He loved sunsets.

"Is this better, _kiri_?" he asked and sat on his cold rock.

I don't like it underground.

He had no choice. He did what his master said to do. _Kiri_ was in his head. She had to do what his master said, too.

_No,_ she retorted stubbornly.

"He will hurt you, _kiri_ ," he told her.

You'll protect me.

He frowned, troubled. At least his master couldn't touch her if she stayed in his head. He'd never have to worry about protecting her.

His eyes traveled from the desert to the sky. He clasped his arms behind his head and lay down, impervious to the cold. The sky was dark, the stars plentiful and bright.

"Do you like the stars?" he asked her.

Yes.

"I think I like them, too." But he wasn't sure yet.

"Slave."

Two bolted to his feet at the unfamiliar voice. The man with eyes the color of the moss in his room materialized from the shadows.

"Yes, master," he said.

"What are you doing here?"

Two looked around him. He'd found his way out, but he wasn't sure how. He looked up and recalled the stars. He stared, aware _kiri_ liked them, too. When he came to see the stars or watch the sunset, she didn't cry. Maybe she didn't like it underground.

"Slave."

He jerked, surprised to find his master's friend, the one with eyes the color of the moss in his room, standing before him.

"Yes, master."

"What are you thinking?" his master's friend asked.

"Slaves don't think, master."

His master's friend moved closer, and he silently told _kiri_ to be quiet, lest she be heard. She was on the verge of crying again.

"Do you like the stars?" his master's friend asked.

"Yes, we do."

His master's friend looked at him for a long minute.

"Return to your room, slave, and I won't tell your master I found you here."

"Yes, master."

Two went back to the door and looked at his hand. He didn't remember coming this way, but he was sure it was the way back. He entered three codes and crossed through three doors, walked down a hall too narrow for him to walk straight, and retreated to his room. _Kiri_ began to cry again.

"Slave."

He turned when he reached his door. The master's friend, the one with eyes the color of the moss in the corner of his room, stood before him.

"Yes, master."

"You must take care of _kiri_ no matter what."

The master's friend had heard her crying. Two bowed his head, awaiting a beating that never came. When he looked up, he was alone. He wondered why he was in the hallway at all and returned to his room.

"It's okay, _kiri._ "

I miss the stars.

He didn't know how to leave the underground prison, or he'd take her outside to see them. Two sat down on his bed and stared into the darkness, unable to sleep when she cried.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"I thought you didn't eat croissants," Sofia said, staring at her bodyguard as she awaited Linda and Traci.

Pierre received a wide berth from the Starbucks customers, his massive frame standing out even more among normal-sized humans. People stared, women in envy and hunger. Pierre was beyond handsome with his brooding looks, wind-swept blond hair, black clothing, and trench coat. He was lined with weapons she'd watched him emplace earlier. His trench coat was too heavy for her to lift by the time he finished stowing his gear.

"Of course I do. I'm French," he said and swallowed one whole. "You Americans can't get it right, though."

"At least you can eat them."

He winked and swallowed another.

"I think Pierre was right about that sweater," Linda said as she rejoined them. "I'm glad I didn't get it."

"It made you look ten pounds heavier," he reminded her.

"Black isn't supposed to do that."

"It's the material, not the color," he replied.

Traci joined them, coffee in hand, and they merged into the crowded mall. Pierre stayed on her heels, guaranteeing her a wide berth. She was grateful to him. His cell rang, and he answered, eyes always moving.

"Has it been an hour?" she asked. "I forgot my watch."

"Yeah, just about. We can make our way back there," Traci said. She looked healthier and happier than during their last two encounters, and Linda had let it slip that she and Rainy were talking again.

"That pocket is for knives, not your shit," Pierre snapped as Linda dropped another trinket she'd bought into one of his pockets.

"The key is knowing that—if you're not a bad guy—they can't do more than bark at you," Linda confided to Sofia and Traci.

Texting, Traci led them into the jewelry store. Sofia fingered the cell phone and credit card Damian thrust into her hands on her way out the door. He'd not said anything to her since the other night, when he'd almost destroyed the world. She fed from him silently and made every effort to avoid him in the meantime. Just thinking of him made her body heat and her heart flip. She didn't know what she felt toward him. If her Christmas gift was any indication, she thought she might be falling for the brute.

The salesperson recognized her and reappeared with a small box.

"Here is the original," he said, pulling her necklace from a small baggy. "And here is what we've done."

He opened the box to reveal a man's platinum signet ring with the half-moon, half-sun, and arrow symbol neatly carved on its head. _Damian_ was engraved on the interior. She'd seen the image in his home videos. Every White God but him had worn the symbol. It was a sign of his history, of his past, and he regarded it with both yearning and regret. She didn't know if he'd welcome the gift or if his recent ordeal left him more jaded toward his past.

"Very nice," Linda said, picking it up. "This thing is big enough to fit on my toe."

"Pierre, what do you think?" Sofia asked. He'd approved all their purchases and talked them out of a few bad ones during the morning.

" _Bon_ ," he said with a nod of approval. "Subtle bling. He will like it."

She replaced the necklace and handed the credit card to the salesperson. In a few minutes, they were strolling through the mall once more.

"Pierre, where are you from anyway?" Traci asked, looking up at the bodyguard.

"France."

"We know that," Linda said. " _When_ are you from?"

"Sixteen sixty-ish. I'm a baby in the organization."

Linda rolled her eyes.

"I don't think I'll get used to that," Traci said with a shake of her head.

Pierre's phone rang again.

"It is different, but you'll never hear such neat accounts of history as you will from these guys," Linda stated.

Sofia's phone vibrated, and she pulled it out, wondering who had her number.

Hey S, it's Jule. Come 2 food court.

She glanced at the signs at the nearest intersection indicating the direction of the major department stores and the food court.

"Can we go this way?" she asked, pointing.

The three moved with her, Pierre speaking tersely in French on the phone. She recognized Jule on sight and couldn't help but feel surprised. Like the assassin who obsessed about birthdays and clothing, there were two sides to the man before her: the warm, friendly stranger with whom she'd felt so comfortable she confided to him over the phone without knowing anything about him, and the tattooed thug before them in snug biker leathers. He wore an assortment of knives on his belt and a silver symbol of a star with two arrows through it that looked older than Damian's on a black choker around his neck.

He towered head and shoulders over the mostly female crowd and leaned with deceptive casualness that radiated danger against one of the pillars in the food court. His leather vest revealed arms and chest completely covered in colorful, vivid tattoos, his whole visage daring anyone to challenge him. He was the kind of man she wouldn't think twice about running from, though the intelligence gleaming in his soulful brown eyes gave him away as something more. His skin was the shade of melted chocolate, his features too exotic to discern his ethnicity, and his long, straight hair was braided down his back.

She stopped a safe distance from him, unable to reconcile the man on the phone with the man before her. He flashed a wide smile at Pierre, who lifted his chin and nudged her forward.

"Ladies. I'm Jule," he said in a gravelly growl as they neared.

"I've heard of you," Linda said, surprised. "Don't you rule the eastern hemisphere?"

"Something like that. Linda, Traci, Sofia, I presume."

He looked at the charm dangling from her necklace and held out his hand to her, palm up. She placed her hand atop his, assessing him. She saw glimpses of his shared history with Damian and Dustin and of a time before meeting them that was too dark for her to see clearly. His intense gaze remained on her.

"Pierre doing good by you?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. He's got a great sense of style," Linda said with a laugh.

"He'll do," Sofia answered.

Jule's smiles were less reserved than those of the other men despite his unfriendly appearance. The skin around his eyes softened. She saw the thaw from the cactus daring anyone to touch him to the man she'd spoken to on the phone. He took in her features with passive curiosity.

"Hey, boss," Pierre said, holding out his hand.

"Good to see you, Froggie. Enjoying your new assignment?"

"Mon dieu, non! I can't believe you sent me here to babysit."

Sofia gave Pierre a harried look, and Jule chuckled.

"If he's complaining, he's happy," he told her. "He's the best in my sphere of command, though Han's shoes are hard to fill."

"Han had manners," she replied.

"And you're alive because of whom?" Pierre responded.

"Glad to see you're getting along," Jule said with a grin. "Dusty warned me you were a handful, Sofi."

"Me?" she asked, surprised.

" _Oui_ ," Pierre agreed.

The men around her were smoking crack. She rarely left the house and lived in the library. She wasn't sure what she could do to be more boring.

"Since we're here..." Traci said, eyes going to a Chinese buffet.

"Go ahead. We'll wait," Jule said. His gaze returned to Sofia, and she crossed her arms under his scrutiny.

"I think I'll go with her," Linda said, looking between the two.

Jule glanced at Pierre, who obeyed the silent command and moved away.

"How you holding up?" he asked.

"Better," Sofia answered.

"Reconciled things yet?"

"Working on it. Linda is putting me in contact with the support group she belongs to. I'm reading their blogs. Haven't worked up the nerve to post. I'm different, Jule, even among you all."

"That you are," he agreed. "Dusty says you stopped D from annihilating the planet. That's a good thing."

"I saw that you shared his history..." She stopped, not sure how comfortable he was with a stranger reading his mind.

"You're definitely not gonna stress me out, okay? Just say what you need to."

"He was upset about his brother."

Jule nodded, a dark look crossing his features.

"That was a bad time for all of us," he recalled. "A very bad time. That was right after I met them, before the Schism and being paroled to earth. When it rains, it hails."

"I know."

"I'm impressed. You're doing well. I bet D didn't tell you that only ten percent of Oracles ever get as far as you have."

"No, he didn't," she said.

"Most of them kill themselves. Some go crazy. Some go crazy then kill themselves. The rest we kill when they start going crazy."

"Are you..." She paused then plowed forward, gaze on his choker. "Are you the same kind of entity he is?"

"Sort of. We're cousins, several times removed. We both inherited our powers while Dusty was like you, a human meant for something much greater."

"We found the traitors in your hemisphere," she said, looking away.

"I know. You saved thousands of lives."

She was silent.

"Sofia." She looked up at his soft tone. His gaze was warm. "You did the right thing."

"I hope so," she replied. "I'd do anything for Damian."

"Dusty said I'd like you," he said with a smile. "He's right. You're what D needs. It's taken thousands of years, but I'm glad you finally showed up."

"Let me guess, if you didn't like me, Dustin would take me out back and kill me."

"Something like that," Jule said with a laugh. "He's really protective of the people he cares about."

"You didn't come all the way to Tucson for an errand," she said, recalling their phone conversation.

"I did not," he confirmed. He said no more, and she lost the nerve to pursue.

"I'm going for Frenchie fries," Pierre called. "You want anything, Sofi? Perhaps an American hamburger? Where are you from, Jule, so I can get you ethnically stereotypical food?"

Jule laughed, looking at her to see how she'd take it.

"That man has issues," she muttered.

"Let me guess, you asked him if he wanted a croissant?"

Jule bristled suddenly, the smile disappearing as his face turned predatory once again. Sofia watched him, surprised at the quick change.

"Pierre," he called.

Her Guardian was ramrod straight as well, sensing whatever Jule sensed. They exchanged a silent communication, and Pierre moved through the crowd toward Linda and Traci.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Jule said. "It's time for us to go."

Fear swept through her, and he offered a tight smile.

"No worries. Nothing here can get through me. I'm not D, but I'm as close as they come."

He strode beside her, whipping out his cell as they headed toward the nearest exit.

"D, it's me. We're headed back."

The sense of normalcy faded as they moved through the mall. She looked back to see if Pierre followed. He and the girls were gone, though three men in sunglasses moved purposefully toward her and Jule. She knew them for Czerno's men; if they revealed their eyes, they'd be red. She looked up at Jule. He appeared relaxed despite the danger.

"Just another day at the office," he said with one of his warm smiles.

"Will I ever get used to this?"

"Maybe someday."

A car awaited them when they exited. Jule ignored the three men trailing them and ushered her into the armored Tahoe. The driver sped away before the door closed, and she twisted around to see the three men watching them.

"They can't risk killing you," Jule said. "Or they'd have razed the whole mall. Czerno has no restraint when it comes to collateral damage."

"What does he want with me?" she asked, hands shaking.

"In our time, whoever controlled the Oracle, controlled the battle. You're a weak point for Damian, and Czerno has been waiting for him to develop an opening."

"I don't like the sound of that," she said, sitting back in her seat.

"What's done can't be undone," he said. "It's a good thing."

"Doesn't seem like it."

"But it is," he said firmly. "Oracles were rare in our time. Blood-bound Oracles your age and ability? Almost unheard of. Oracles blood bound to a man in Damian's position? Incredible. That he's chosen you as his mate will basically ensure the continued existence of life as we know it. Trust me—it's a good thing."

"His _what_?" she exclaimed.

Jule looked at her. "Shouldn't have said that. Pretend I didn't."

"Jule, you opened this can of worms."

"And I'm closing it."

She recognized his tone; it was one Damian used when making her boundaries with him clear. She didn't like those boundaries one bit.

"You're on my shit list with Damian and Pierre," she said.

"At least I keep good company," he said with a chuckle. "Is Dusty there, too?"

"Not yet."

"I think I like you, Sofia."

She shook her head. She liked him, too, even though he was different from Damian and Dusty. He patted her leg with another of his friendly smiles and turned his attention to the world racing by them.

It was dark before they returned to the mansion. The driver had driven in circles and down every back alley he could find until Jule was confident there was no one tailing them.

Damian and Dustin awaited them. Their faces lit up at the sight of Jule, and Sofia trailed him in, watching as the three clapped each other on the shoulders and hugged. The energy around them was lively; they were brothers whose bond was formed during their years in the bowels of hell.

She closed her eyes, the home videos playing in her thoughts. These were happy images of shared exploits, battlefield victories, and tender moments crying on each other's shoulders as their world grew uglier. They touched her, and she smiled.

"Sofia," Damian said in a warning tone.

She opened her eyes to find all three gazing at her with similar guarded looks. She crossed her arms, agitated.

"Damian, Dustin, Jule, I'm an Oracle. Get used to it."

And she went to the library, their pride be damned.

*

"Damn Oracles," Damian said under his breath, watching her.

He wasn't sure if he should be angry at her defiant insubordination or amused by it. She was harmless to him, like a trash-talking flower. Then again, most men had _some_ level of respect for him and his position. He shook his head, returning his attention to Dusty and Jule. Dusty's gaze was on the ground, his smile partially hidden while Jule's amusement was less discreet. He grinned.

"Look on the bright side," Jule said. "She's accepting her role."

"Exactly," Dusty agreed.

Damian glared at both of them, suddenly aware they were laughing at _him_.

"You'll get your turn," he assured them both. "And I'll be there to laugh at you when you do. C'mon."

He strode down the hallway to his office, his two adopted brothers following. Han had laid out a few maps on the table near his desk. Damian flipped the lights on, and the three of them gathered at the table.

"Our evac plan was to take everyone here," Dusty said, indicating a point in the Utah desert. "But we don't know how much information Claire had access to and what she passed to Czerno."

"I didn't stop to ask her," Damian said in a cold voice. Dusty and Jule knew better than to pry what happened when he confronted Claire. He'd done as he promised Jule and eliminated the threat.

"We'll evac elsewhere."

"Wouldn't recommend Europe," Jule said with a snort. "You still coming to help me clean up?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Dusty, can you run the evac and clean-up ops for Arizona?"

"Gladly."

"How 'bout Australia for the next HQ site?" Jule asked.

"Come to Florida," Dusty suggested. "We can be neighbors. I'll help you keep your woman in line."

"I'll be left out again," Jule complained.

"I'm going back to Europe with you, aren't I?" Damian asked, amused. "And I'll stay until the issue is fixed."

"Even if your Oracle remains in Florida?" Dusty challenged.

"I trust you to take care of her," Damian assured him.

"See how that works, Dusty?" Jule said with a laugh. "I think you just picked up Oracle babysitting duty."

Dusty pursed his lips, and Damian smiled. He trusted Sofia to either of the two men before him and knew Dusty was the more likely of the two to shoot first and ask questions later if she was threatened.

"So we evac tomorrow and set up HQ in Florida," he summarized. "Dusty, can you pick a site and relay it to us? I've got parish calls to make this evening. I'm going to deliver the order to rendezvous here at 0800 in the morning for evacuations. Jule, we'll leave for the European front tomorrow."

"Awesome," Jule agreed.

"I need your computer," Dusty said.

"Like you can use one," Jule said.

"Fuck you, Jule."

Damian smiled and tossed his head toward his computer, straightening. His thoughts drifted to Sofia. He'd likely be away with Jule for quite a while. If it weren't so unsafe, he'd take her with him.

"I'm heading out to the Sector," he said. "Make yourselves at home."

Jule pulled out his phone, and Dusty sat in front of the computer. Damian strode to his room to change. As he pulled on the last of his clothes and crossed to his armory, a small, black velvet box nestled between two daggers drew his attention. He opened it, surprised to see a ring bearing the White God's seal. He'd tucked away the necklace thousands of years ago after finding it among the pieces of his brother's body. He'd never been able to bring himself to wear it.

He gazed at the ring, touched. The little Oracle knew just how to affect him. Dark memories crossed his mind, along with his resolve to finally let his brother's memory rest in the peace it deserved. With Claire's death, he'd avenged his brother and righted the wrong made thousands of years ago. He no longer needed to feel as if he still dwelt in the shadow of Darian's death. He was the king now in his own right.

He removed the ring from the box, smiling as he saw his name engraved in the interior. He went to the library, where he knew she'd be hiding out.

"Did you do this?" he demanded, holding up the ring like a piece of dirty underwear.

She jerked at his voice and twisted to face him, observing him coolly before turning away.

"Are you going out?" she asked without answering him.

"I am."

Aggravated by her second display of defiance in one night, he crossed to her and planted his hands on either side of her chair, demanding her attention. She looked up at him.

"Do you like it?" she asked, unease and desire crossing her features at his nearness.

"Yes."

"In your home videos, you're always thinking about the symbol."

"Home videos?" he echoed.

"Your memories."

Her two-toned eyes were still, her head resting on the back of the chair as she looked up at him. The sexual awareness killed him more and more lately, and he started to think going to the European front was a good thing. She'd have time and space to adjust without the added confusion of _him._

"You shouldn't be afraid to wear it anymore," she told him.

"You see too much, Sofia," he replied gruffly.

"You keep telling me who I am. This is who _you_ are, Damian."

There was a tenderness in the way she looked at him that amazed him. He felt her deep confusion of the world around her and marveled again at how selfless she still managed to be.

"Thank you, Sofia," he whispered.

She smiled at the genuine note in his voice, and he leaned forward, kissing her. If only he didn't have to tour the Sector tonight!

"We'll come back to this, _kiri_ ," he promised, grudgingly withdrawing.

Her eyes swirled with arousal, and her parted, plump lips threatened his resolve. She touched his face. He kissed her hand and pushed away. He left the library and Traveled to one of the remaining, undiscovered safe houses at the base of one of the mountains. He placed the ring on his finger, his body buzzing with lust and anticipation. There'd been no hesitancy in her kiss, none of her previous reserve. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't sense the danger until it spoke.

"Hello, Damian," the Black God said.

He whirled. Czerno stood at the other end of the room. Before Damian could react, a charge of electricity flew through him, carrying with it an invasive liquid that paralyzed him. Damian dropped to the floor with a roar, his eyes blurring as more fire and liquid tore through him. He struggled to free his arms from the invisible bonds, his eyesight darkening until he dropped into unconsciousness.

*

The sense of danger jarred her, and she sat up straight, heart pounding hard. She looked around. Something was wrong.

Damian.

She shot out of her seat and to the door, wrenching it open. She pulled out the cell he'd given her and called the only number in it.

"Jule," came the gruff answer.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Sweetheart, I'll call you later. Stay put for now, okay?" He hung up, but there was urgency in his voice. Jule wasn't the type of man who worried about anything, and fear slid through her.

"Pierre!" she called. For the first time, he wasn't lingering in the shadows. "Dustin!"

A brief search of the house yielded neither man. She snatched her satchel and dug out Linda and Traci's numbers. She dialed each of them, distressed when both calls went to voicemail. She stopped and closed her eyes, seeking the home videos that normally streamed.

Not even the videos were playing. Coldness filled her. Something terrible would've had to happen to break the connection between Damian and her.

She went to the key locker and chose one of Damian's sports cars, her instincts urging her to go somewhere, though she didn't know where. Within minutes, she was on the road. It'd been only a week and a half since she ventured into this new world, but she felt strangely exposed without Pierre with her. Her phone rang, and she snatched it.

"Did you call?" Traci asked.

"Where's Rainy?"

"I'm not supposed to say anything."

"Please, Traci, it's important," she begged. "I know something awful happened to Damian. I can feel it!"

"Come to the Sector."

"I need the address."

"I'll text it when we hang up," Traci said.

Sofia pulled over to the side of the road to await the text and load the address into the car's GPS. She drove fast and arrived half an hour later to the safe house and parked out front. The front door was open, as if they were expecting her.

"Traci?" she called as she entered.

"In here!"

Sofia followed the sound of her voice to the living room. Traci was alone with the man she recognized as Ving, who stood near the doorway. He looked past her.

"Where's your bodyguard?" he demanded.

"I don't know," she answered.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

She edged past him. The model on the couch looked between them with a frown. She was still pale after her encounter with Czerno.

"Ving, we're going to the site," Sofia told him.

"Hell no."

"You can take us, or I can go alone," she said and crossed her arms.

"Neither of you will go anywhere," Ving said firmly. She exchanged a look with Traci.

"Very well. I'll wait for Pierre to catch up," she said, joining Traci on the couch. Ving eyed her. Sofia put her purse down and tucked her phone into her jeans.

"Stay here. I'm calling Rainy," Ving said. Sofia watched, but he didn't go far, just stepped into the hall. He could still see them.

"Traci, we gotta leave," she whispered. "You know where Rainy is?"

"Yes. You're not going alone," Traci said, hesitating. "We can't outrun him. Wait a minute."

Sofia could hardly sit still. The sense of doom was building. She needed to reach Damian, now! Traci crossed to the kitchen door just as Ving hung up the phone.

"You hungry?" Traci asked both of them. "I was just making a midnight snack. I can't stop eating."

"You're eating for three," Ving reminded her.

"I know, I know," Traci grated. "As long as I don't look it!"

"No, thanks," Sofia said. Traci disappeared around the corner to the kitchen. Sofia waited, staring blankly at the football game on TV. Ving sat beside her, and she resisted the urge to bolt for the door.

"Hey, Sofi! Linda says you make a killer grilled chicken," Traci called from the kitchen. "I got the chicken if you got the recipe!"

"Yeah, sure." It was all Sofia could do to keep from springing out of her seat. She felt Ving's gaze on her as she crossed the living room and disappeared into the kitchen. There was no backdoor in the kitchen, but Traci had wedged the window over the sink open. She waved Sofia over frantically before climbing on top of the sink and wriggling through the window. Sofia followed and dropped into the grass beside Traci.

"And now we run like hell," Traci said.

They circled the hacienda to Sofia's car and dove into it just as the front door wrenched open. Sofia started the car with shaking hands and tore away from the curb, heart pounding as she watched Ving's furious form grow smaller in the rearview mirror.

"I'm in so much trouble right now," Traci said. "Rainy's gonna be _pissed._ "

"Me, too, I'm sure. Where are we going?"

"One of their safe houses was hit earlier. Rainy called to say he'd be there for a while cleaning up the mess. I've been there twice to check for signs of vamp surveillance."

"That doesn't sound good," Sofia murmured. Her phone rang. Jule's number flashed. Suspecting Ving had made a couple of hurried phone calls, she let the call go to voicemail.

"This feels weird," Traci said. "I'm used to one of them following me around like a puppy."

"Yeah, I noticed that, too. It feels good to get out, though."

She drove fast with Traci's directions guiding her. As dawn broke, they reached the turn off to the safe house. The destruction was visible long before they reached the low adobe structure hidden between the foothills of the Tucson Mountains. Dead vamps lined the driveway. Several cars were on fire, and black smoke spiraled toward the sky. Deep holes in the ground, rimmed with black, pockmarked the shallow valley. A dozen vehicles were parked near the structure, itself the size of a small warehouse. At least one of Damian's Guardians lay slain among the scores of vamps.

The adobe structure was guarded by several more Guardians, none of whom looked like Damian from the distance. She stopped the car before reaching them. The death around her disturbed her, and danger hung in the air. She closed her eyes, seeking the familiar home videos. Instead, a faint memory began to play. She saw glimpses of the early morning battle. Opening her eyes, she hesitated and moved away from the car in the direction of the source of the memories.

"Sofia," Traci called, fear in her voice.

Sofia stopped at the edge of the driveway, horrified by the bloodied and broken bodies spread across the expansive area in front of her. It looked like a war zone and smelled like a cesspool. Her chest was tight and her breath short, but she knew there was one way to find out what happened to Damian.

"Come with me," she whispered. She grabbed Traci's hand, and she picked her way through the death until she found the vamp she sought.

"Sofia!" Dustin's voice was filled with fury.

She knelt beside the vamp. While he looked dead, he was alive enough for his memories to reach her. She braced herself and touched him. The night's battle lit up her thoughts, and what she saw made her gasp.

Czerno himself had been there for the well-timed ambush. He and his vamps had fought half the night and created the battlefield full of destruction before the dozen Guardians assigned to the safe house were overwhelmed. Damian appeared, a fragmented vision, as if the vamp had been peering through a foggy window. Czerno was already there and with him, a secret weapon, one that made the vamp believe they'd win before he'd been shot down. The vamp before her went down before she saw the outcome of the meeting between Damian and Czerno in the safe house, but she saw what the vamp expected to happen. Damian was meant to be kidnapped, not killed.

Dustin wrenched her to her feet.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Dusty," Jule cautioned, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dustin released her, glowering. There was only one thing that could make such a cold man so upset. Jule leveled a glare on her.

"Traci?" Rainy's voice was surprised and furious.

"You have thirty seconds, sweetheart," Jule said with a calmness that chilled her to the bone. "Or I'll give you to Dusty."

She didn't want to know what happened after that. She'd seen the dark side of Dusty in his home videos in the library before she told Damian about Claire.

"Damian was ambushed. Czerno knew he was coming here and had a small army of vamps. He had a secret weapon, but I don't know what it was," she said quickly.

"Where'd they take him?"

"He doesn't know."

Jule freed a gun from the small of his back and pointed it at the vamp beside her. She turned her head away, jumping as the shot rang out. Jule met her gaze calmly, and she resisted the urge to run. She didn't like the reminders that the men around her were capable of such violence.

"I'll deal with you later," he promised.

Ving pulled up and barely made it out of the car before Rainy grabbed him and slammed him over the hood.

"Dusty, calm them down," Jule ordered.

"Got it," Dustin said, trotting towards the men.

"Fan out and find out if any others are alive!" Jule shouted to the men. "You don't leave my sight, Oracle."

She acquiesced, afraid to disagree.

"I got one!" a shout rang out.

"I shouldn't have to tell you to tell me everything," Jule said, blocking her path with his arm. "There are two people on _my_ list. No one else in this fucked-up universe matters."

She looked up, hearing the unspoken threat.

"I love him, Jule," she said, admitting the words for the first time.

He dropped his arm, and she picked her way through the bodies, covering her mouth to keep from vomiting. Lon knelt by a vamp whose chest still moved. She leaned down, bracing herself as she rested a trembling hand on his forehead.

For Damian.

"He's one of the last to arrive," she said and closed her eyes. "He came from an underground facility on the other side of Tucson."

"Where?" Dustin demanded.

"He's not exactly providing an address."

"Rainy!" Lon shouted and waved the brooding Guardian over. Still fuming, Rainy joined them.

"What landmarks did he pass?" Jule prodded. "Street names, anything."

The vamp's memories were fading fast and growing blurry. Sofia sifted through them.

"The mall. He passed it on his way out of town. Abandoned gas station, new housing development in the foothills. Dirt road, reservation perimeter on the left..." she murmured.

"Do you recognize it?" Jule turned.

"I do," Rainy confirmed. "Keep going."

The memories stopped. Sofia withdrew, staring at the dead body in front of her.

"I take it he's dead," Dustin said. "Rainy, get your men. Call in those from the neighboring sectors. We'll need to hit fast then evac."

"You did good, sweetheart," Jule said. He lifted her to her feet. Her stomach growled. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Friday," she said, not waiting to think of what would happen to her if Damian disappeared too long.

"Dusty, we're going to have another problem soon," Jule said for Dustin's ears only.

"I'll be okay," she said. "I've gone two days without serious consequence."

Dustin looked at her, then at Jule. They exchanged one of their silent communications.

"Fuck," Jule said quietly, realization crossing his features. "Sofia, you said Czerno drained your blood?"

She nodded.

"We should've seen this coming," he said, running his fingers through his hair. His gaze went to Dustin. "You think..."

"Yes," Dustin said.

"What?" she asked. "What happened?"

"You remember what I told you about Oracles offering a weak chink in a commander's armor?" Jule asked. "What I didn't say was how you can be used against him. When you're blood bound, you can't kill your master, and your master can't kill you. Czerno has your blood. Chances are he used your blood to incapacitate Damian."

She paled.

"There's no other way. D couldn't be overpowered unless his powers were crippled," Dustin said. "We gotta think this one through, Jule. We'll have one chance to rip his hideout open and..."

Sofia watched them walk away, alone and cold. If Damian died, it was because of her. She started toward the road, away from the field of death. Her phone rang. The number wasn't familiar, but she answered.

"Hello, love," Czerno greeted her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"If you're as smart as I suspect, you've probably used your gift to figure out where I am," he said.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Have you told your friends?"

"No," she lied.

"Good. I've got a deal for you. It's simple, really. Even if I kill Damian, I'll have to deal with all his people. However, if I have you, I'll beat them at every turn. If you come to me right now, I'll let him go."

"Swear on your soul?" she asked. Her heart beat so hard, she could barely make out his response.

"Love, I don't have a soul. By the time Dusty figures out what to do, Damian will be dead. In fact, if you refuse me now, I'll kill him before I hang up the phone."

She closed her eyes, shaking.

"If you agree, I'll free him when you show up at my doorstep."

"Yes," she said. "I'd give you anything for him."

"You have an hour."

He hung up, and she stared at the cell then looked to her car. The door was open as she left it, the keys in the steering column. Jule and Dustin reached the building, and she looked at them.

Czerno would never let her go. If she went to him now, she'd spend eternity with him, a slave to the Black God himself. The truth settled into the pit of her stomach, along with the realization that she meant what she'd said—she would do whatever it took to free the man she loved.

Dustin met her gaze, and he froze.

"Sofia, no!"

She bolted to her car, far enough ahead of any of the men that they couldn't stop her. She flung herself in, slammed the door, and locked them. Peeling out, she floored it and tore down the road. The dead vamp's memories were fresh in her mind, and she sought the sights he'd passed.

Her phone rang, and she snatched it.

"Sofia, turn around. Now," the calm male's voice ordered.

"No, Jule. He'll kill him if I don't go."

"He'll kill him if you do."

Her tears rose, blurring her vision. She struggled for control, focusing on the road.

"Sofia," he said more gently. "Please."

"Stop," she begged. "It's my fault he was caught. I can fix it. I can fix it!"

"You can't fix a war that's been on for hundreds of thousands of years."

"I have to, Jule. I'm sorry. The world needs him," she said. She hung up the phone, gripped the steering wheel hard and drove.

She followed the vamp's fleeting directions. The staging area was where the vamp remembered it being, tucked at the base of a mountain in a draw. Sofia swallowed hard at the sight of so many vamps milling around. She drove up to the elevator entrance on the side of the draw. One vamp in particular seemed to be awaiting her and strode to the car when she rolled to a stop.

He waved her to exit, and she did so, her hands shaking as she opened the door. The other vamps didn't so much as acknowledge her as she stepped from the car. Her greeter motioned her to follow, and she obeyed, her mind on Damian and nothing else. He led her into a small, grey elevator that plunged quickly to the depths beneath the mountain.

The underground world was well built and bright with whitewashed walls lining corridors wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Her apprehension grew as the vamp led her down a maze of hallways through scores of other vamps and past multiple doorways. He reached a set of double doors. He opened one, and she entered. The study beyond was a replica of the one in Virginia, down to the Gothic hood on the fireplace.

Damian was nowhere to be seen. Czerno rose from a desk as she entered. The large man in black with lopsided shoulders and an executioner's hood pressed himself into a corner. The man with verdant eyes stood beside him, watching her. The Black God approached her, and she stepped back.

"I did what you asked. You said you'd free him," she said.

At Czerno's chilled smile, she knew he had no intention of freeing either of them. Panic swelled within her.

"Welcome home, love," he said.

She whirled, but the vamp that had led her into the underground lair blocked the doorway. She sucked in a breath, struggling to calm herself.

"Czerno, free him! You have me!"

"I'd rather kill two birds with one stone," he said. "Two, take her."

"No!" she breathed. "Please no! I'll do whatever you want! Please, just let him go."

"We'll talk later, love," Czerno assured her. "You'll have all the time in the world to beg me, on your knees and on your back."

His gaze swept over her in cold admiration as he spoke. The executioner from the corner emerged from the shadows and took her arms.

"Let him go! Please!" she shouted as he pulled her from the room.

Hysteria gripped her, and she fought him until he slung her over his shoulder. Tears blinded her.

"Damian!"

_Sofia._ His voice was weak, as if he were far away. She strained against the man again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed.

The man in the executioner uniform dumped her onto a familiar surgical table in a room that stank of blood.

She screamed and launched off of it. He slammed the door closed, subduing her hysterical strikes with unexpected gentleness until she lay strapped to the cold table, weeping. When spent, she lay still, willing sleep or death to take her. Neither did. She closed her eyes to the ceiling. Eventually, she ran out of tears and lay spent on the table, mind on Damian.

Her stomach growled again. She'd starve in a day.

The shadow named Two emerged from the corner. She'd forgotten his presence, but he peeled off one glove to display a scarred forearm and hand. As she watched, he took a knife and sliced his wrist. She twisted her head away as he dripped the blood over her lips. He snatched her head with his other hand, then held her nose closed as she clamped her mouth shut. When she gasped for air, his blood trickled into her mouth. She started to spit it out but stopped.

She knew this man.

Though his blood didn't ensnare her as Damian's did, it tasted _familiar_. She drank, and he lowered his wrist to her lips. His memories flashed as they made contact. He knew nothing beyond the past twenty-four hours. His first memory was of waking up then of everything he'd done for the day.

He moved away when she ceased drinking, back to the corner. She twisted to stare at him. He was Damian's size, though by his lopsided shoulders and scars, he'd survived some sort of serious injury. He was lean and wiry compared to Damian's bulky build.

"Who are you?" she demanded, sensing she was missing something important.

He didn't answer, settling in his corner.

She lay still, the man in the corner so silent she had to look several times to make sure he was still there. Renewed by the blood, more sobs wracked her body as she thought of Damian and how badly she'd destroyed any plan Dustin or Jule could make.

"Damian," she whispered. "Forgive me. I should've let you make love to me."

Panic and tears soon drained her of energy, and she stared listlessly at the bloodied ceiling until the man in the corner stirred. The door behind her opened, and Czerno stepped in, trailed by the older, silent gentleman with bright green eyes.

"Still alive," Czerno observed, walking around her. "Two, let her walk around for an hour every twelve. I don't want her muscles turning to jelly."

Czerno trailed a finger down the side of her face, his chilling smile and the onslaught of visions making her gasp. She glared at him, hate in her gaze. She would _never_ give this man the visions he wanted!

"I'm blood bound." She forced the words out. "If you kill Damian, I'll die."

"I've got something almost as good as him," Czerno said, motioning to the man in the corner. "According to my source of information, a blood relative can sustain an Oracle marooned without her master. We're going to test this. Either you'll die or you won't."

"I'll never help you!"

"I have eternity to break you, Sofia. I'm in no rush, though I do have a plan to motivate you. It involves removing your body parts, one at a time. Or maybe peeling your skin off? Maybe fucking you 'til you scream will soften you up a bit. We'll see what works, won't we?" He lowered his head to her ear. "I have options. You don't. Trust me. Everyone breaks."

Terror washed over her at his calm, controlled words. She'd seen what he was capable of in his visions. The best she could hope for was eternity on this table, alone, knowing what she'd done to humanity's defender. She started to cry again.

Czerno circled her again and ran his hands down her body, stepping away in approval. He left with a satisfied chuckle, trailed by the man with green eyes. The sound of the door closing sounded like the sealing of her fate.

"Forgive me, Damian," she whispered again.

Two freed her a few hours later and let her walk around the room. He stood in front of the door, unmoving as she explored her surroundings. The room was empty aside from the table. There was one vent in the ceiling, not large enough for her hand let alone her body. Despair washed over her, but she forced herself to concentrate.

Damian wasn't dead. She felt it. If she could only reach him...

She faced Two, the only thing between her and escape. He was a puzzle, a man with no memory beyond waking up in the morning. The rest was blocked, as if a dam was placed there. She paced and stared at him.

... a blood relative can sustain an Oracle.

She'd heard no such thing, but then again, she didn't know anything about Oracles aside from what little she'd gleaned from books and testing herself. His theory was so far correct. Her stomach was content, and she hadn't thrown up. She approached Two hesitantly. He didn't move as she stopped in front of him. She took his hand. He obliged and removed his glove, rolling his sleeve to his elbow and withdrawing a knife. Though she wasn't hungry, she drank, exploring the black curtain shielding his memories as she did.

He pushed his sleeve up farther, revealing the bottom of a thick bicep with a partially visible tattoo. She slid her hand up his arm and nudged the sleeve. The image on his bicep was the same she wore around her neck.

Images flooded her mind, Damian's, Claire's, Isac's. She saw Damian watch the new king get his tattoo as a rite of passage, saw it again as Claire made love to the man meant to be her husband, saw it in Isac's vision as he hacked the tattooed man apart. The man hiding in the corner of her mind, he whose death plagued Damian for thousands of years.

Darian.

She staggered back, the visions cementing in her mind, overwhelming her. She tripped, and her head snapped back. Two caught her before she hit the ground. His stunted memories collided with the others running through her mind. His honey-colored eyes were visible in the harsh lighting of the room.

"Darian!"

His pupils dilated. He placed her on the table and retreated, shaking his head and swiping at the air around him, as if plagued by bees.

"Darian," she repeated.

_Kiri,_ answered the tortured voice of the man in her head.

Seizing control of himself, Two stepped forward and pushed her back, binding her to the table again. Her hope soared, and she watched him return to his corner.

"Your name is Darian. Your brother is Damian. You were born two years apart. You were supposed to marry Claire..." She went on, closing her eyes as she repeated everything from the memories of others.

He didn't move, didn't respond. She spoke until she was hoarse. Her hope flagged, and she cried then tried again. She spoke until she drifted into an uncomfortable doze only to awake when he released her. Cramped, she stretched before approaching him again. She pulled the necklace from her neck.

"Look," she said and touched his bicep.

Mechanically, he rolled his sleeve and pricked his wrist. The curtain blocking him from his memories was less defined, like ice beginning to thaw.

"This is who you are," she said, holding up the symbol. "Your name is Darian. Your brother is..."

She started over, talking until he bound her to the table once more. But he showed no sign of life as he took up his position in his corner, and desperation crept through her. She cried and kept talking, her sentences punctuated by sobs. At last, she stopped speaking and lay, exhausted. If there was a way to make him see what was in her head... to _make_ him remember... she focused on Damian's memories, the ones before the dark age, when he and his brother were happy.

"Hungry," she whispered.

Two obeyed and moved forward, slicing his wrist for her again. As she drank, she replayed Damian's memories over and over.

Damian needs you.

" _Kiri_." His hoarse voice threw her off guard.

"Think, Darian, think," she said. "Do you remember your brother Damian?"

An image flashed, that of Damian chained to a wall. Tears formed in her eyes.

"Yes," she choked out. "Damian. Your brother."

"Don't cry, _kiri._ " He was struggling. She replayed the home videos, closing her eyes and focusing. If he were like his brother, he would hear her thoughts.

Two returned to his corner. She kept the movies playing, focusing on nothing other than the brothers' time together. She drifted into a doze.

"Damian," Two said, waking her.

"He needs you," she whispered. "He's in trouble."

"Damian in trouble," he repeated.

"Yes, Darian."

"Don't cry, _kiri._ " He fell into silence again for several hours. When he freed her again, she approached him and touched his hood.

"Remove it, Darian."

He didn't respond. She touched his arm, replaying the videos. After a brief mental tug-o-war, he pulled off the hood with one hand. His face was as deeply scarred as his hands. His hair was brown rather than white-blond, his beautiful eyes deep set and large. She took his face in her hands the way she had Damian the night he wanted to destroy the world and forced him to meet her gaze. His honey gaze was still.

"Damian needs you," she whispered. "He's in danger. I love him, Darian. Please help us."

"Damian."

She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him, her own memories of Damian forefront in her mind. She replayed their first kiss, his ring, the way his men spoke of him. She showed him Czerno - his master - and the darkness in Czerno's mind. She dropped to her feet and moved away.

" _Kiri_." His eyes were closed as he said the word.

"Your name is Darian. Your brother is Damian." She touched her hands to his cheeks again. Emotions rippled across his face. "Please, Darian, please. You can do this."

His eyes opened, and he met her gaze. For the first time, she sensed he was aware of her and his surroundings. His golden eyes swirled.

"Remember," she said, holding up the necklace.

"Two!" Czerno pounded on the door. She waited. The life died from Two's eyes, and he replaced his hood.

"No. No, no, no!" she shouted, pounding on his chest. Sobbing, she dropped to her knees. Two stepped aside. Czerno entered.

"Congrats. You've survived two days. Looks like I was right," he said, satisfied. "Two, put her on the table. Kill Damian and come back when you're done."

Sofia tried to push him away as he lifted her onto the table. There was a tug at her neck, and she touched it, surprised to find the necklace gone. Two left, the necklace dangling in his hand. She sensed his deep confusion. He took the symbol with him for a reason, even if he didn't fully understand what. Her sudden flicker of hope died when Czerno spoke again.

"As soon as he's done, we'll start working on you," the Black God promised. "Start thinking of which way you want me to fuck you first." He closed the door behind him with a cold laugh, not bothering to bind her.

She curled on her side and wept.

I love you, Damian. Please forgive me!

*

Two had never heard _kiri_ cry so hard. Her heart was breaking. He walked through the halls quickly, the emerging thoughts in his head baffling him. He couldn't remember what the master had ordered him away to do. Something about Damian, the man who made _kiri_ cry. All he could see in his head was _kiri_ sobbing and the dreams she'd made him remember. They weren't good dreams, and the ones she showed him weren't the only ones in his head. Every step he took brought more memories of people and places he felt to his core he knew – but couldn't recognize.

"Don't cry, _kiri_ ," he said in a ragged voice and gripped his head.

He didn't know what to do. His master was hurting her. Why didn't she go back to his head, where she was safe? Why did she come to see him? He took care of her and fed her and let her walk around. Every time he freed her, he hoped she would return to his head. But she didn't.

Damian. Darian.

The images she'd put his head made him stagger and fall against the rough wall. The chain around his hand bit into his finger, and he looked at it. It was _kiri_ 's. He rolled up his sleeve, staring in wonder at the tattoo on his bicep. He didn't remember how he got it, and he doubted it'd been there before _kiri_ put it there hours before.

_Damian needs you. Please help him, Darian._ He was Darian, eldest son of the White God.

The dreams bombarded him faster now. He looked around him and at the necklace in his hand. He was going to Damian. If he freed Damian, _kiri_ would go back to his head, where his master couldn't hurt her.

Two went to Damian's cell and opened the door. Damian was still and silent, but he wasn't dead. No, the master had been waiting to kill him, had been feeding Damian the same juice Two stopped drinking. Damian was chained to the wall so he could be force fed what looked like fruit punch. Two had helped force feed him, before he knew _kiri_ loved him. Damian was the strongest man Two had ever met.

As Two gazed at Damian, another flash of images driving him to his knees. His gaze fell to the silvery ring the man before him wore. Two pulled up his sleeve. Damian had a symbol like his on his ring. He lifted the chain, _kiri_ 's chain, and looked at the identical marks, struck by the idea that he somehow belonged to the same world they did.

Two released Damian from the bonds and lifted him over his shoulders. He made his way through the crowded halls, grunting under the weight of the man. He followed a familiar path through a narrowing hall and looked at his palm for the three codes written in green ink there. Three doorways, three codes. The walk was familiar, though he didn't recall ever taking it before.

He took Damian outside to the rock where he and _kiri_ had watched the stars once long ago and set him down. He gripped his head, which pulsed at the flood of images and _kiri's_ own sobs.

"Don't cry, _kiri,_ " Two said.

He knelt over Damian and pulled the ring from his finger. He placed the necklace in Damian's hand and closed it gently.

"From _kiri_ ," he told the unconscious man. "She loves you, and she's sorry."

He turned and made his way through the doors he suddenly remembered traversing many times the past few days. And now that he'd done what she asked and saved Damian, he would return to _kiri_ to convince her to return to his head, before his master killed her.

Two's chest clenched at the thought, and he was afraid. He didn't want _kiri_ to die. She was _his._ She was all he had. As he stumbled through the halls, he heard the alarms blare.

He had to hurry.

*

Alarms sounded a few moments before the doors exploded off their hinges.

" _What did you do_?" Czerno roared in an inhuman voice.

Sofia darted off the table, staring at him as he entered, trailed by Two and the man with green eyes. The man with green eyes leaned over to Two, whispering to him. Two bowed his head, and the green-eyed man was gone in a sparkle of light.

"How did you free him? How did you alert them?" Czerno demanded, snatching her arm so hard she cried out.

"I've been right here!" she said, shoving at him and his black memories.

His backhand sent her world reeling. Fire lit up half her face, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She landed hard. He kicked her in the stomach, and she gasped. Czerno snatched her arm, his other hand raised for another blow.

"Master, they've penetrated the perimeter!" a voice shouted from down the hallway. The Black God looked from her towards the direction of the voice. He pushed her down and stepped over her, striding quickly to the door.

"Two, bring her," the infuriated Black God ordered. Two obeyed, lifting her off the floor and carrying her. She gazed up at him as he followed Czerno, looking again for some sign of life in his still gold eyes.

"Darian," she whispered. "Please, Darian, come back to me."

He didn't even look at her, and her hope plummeted again. They stopped in a small command center, where one wall displayed monitors.

"Now!" Czerno barked.

Jule's face materialized on the screen. Czerno snatched Sofia and dragged her close, the visions making her stagger.

"Where's Damian?" Jule demanded.

"Get your men out of here!" Czerno ordered. "Quickly, before I kill her!"

Fire tore through her, and she cried out. It increased, the sensation of frying from the inside out.

"Stop," Jule ordered. "Dusty, order a withdrawal."

The fire burned hot enough to devour Czerno's dark memories.

_I'll protect you, kiri._ The voice in her head came from Two. Czerno released her, and she fell, her body seizing in agony.

"Czerno! We're pulling out!"

"Cut it!" Czerno snarled. He kicked her as he passed. Jule's face disappeared from the screen, and the pain eased. Unable to move, she panted, body convulsing with aftershocks from the attack.

"They don't have him! He's here, somewhere! Find him!" Czerno ordered.

His vamps scampered out of the command center to obey. He stalked to her again and dragged her up. The man with the green eyes was suddenly behind him, watching _her._

"I don't give a damn if he escapes. I have you," he growled. "Two, take this bitch to the helo-pad. We're evacuating." He hit her one more time, and she careened against Two, caught between consciousness and darkness. Two lifted her and carried her into a hallway teeming with vamps.

Damian was free! The thought pierced her thoughts, and she sagged against Two, not caring if she survived or not. Two took her down a quieter hall and set her down. She doubled over, pain from Czerno's attacks crippling her.

Two knelt over her. He held Damian's ring in front of her face and then tucked it into her jeans. He cocked his head to the side, as if listening to someone.

"Yes, master," he said to no one she saw.

She closed her eyes, in too much pain to concentrate. He touched her, and familiar warmth flashed through her, easing the pain. Two pulled her to her feet. Sofia stared up at him, not daring to hope he'd help her. He stalked down the hall. She watched him, tempted to run away, before realizing the amount of activity in the halls behind her guaranteed her capture.

She jogged after him with great effort as he strode through the maze. He emerged into a busier hall and waited for her, taking her arm and leading her through the vamps. They passed through the activity unscathed before he started down another hall. The alarms faded, and the halls grew cruder, unfinished. Sofia followed him as the halls angled up and narrowed until Two had to walk through them sideways. He reached a door finally and typed in the access code. It opened. They passed through two more doors before exiting into a cold desert night on the side of a mountain, overlooking the activity at the elevator's entrance.

Sofia almost cried in relief. Two continued walking, finding a narrow path in the dark and starting down it. She followed, shivering. The path wound its way downward, dumping them into a draw far enough away to be safe. Two walked on once he reached the desert, and she trotted after him, looking back at the floodlit entrance to the elevator. Gunshots streaked around the entrance. A massive explosion went off, shaking the ground beneath them.

She stopped and stared, throat tightening.

"Damian," she whispered.

Two took her arm, driving her onward. When assured she'd follow, he released her and marched on into the desert, away from the mountain. A sense of familiarity hit her as they neared a clump of rocks. She'd seen it in Pierre's future. The images she'd seen the night of the Quarterly replayed in her mind.

Pierre unloading his shotgun on the man in executioner's garb from Czerno's. It was dark, cold, and the shots hit the man with lopsided shoulders, dropping him dead to the ground. An explosion blazed in the distance. A woman was screaming, another man shouting.

The Guardians were here, ready to take the shot that would kill Darian. Urgency jarred her out of the memory, and she launched forward.

"Pierre, no!" she shouted, running past Two.

He snatched her as she passed, but not before she heard a shot and felt fire burn through her. She was driven back against Two, who caught her. Warm blood splattered her neck and face. She cried out in pain.

"Let her go!" She recognized Pierre's voice.

Two lowered her, pulling up his sleeves to fight.

"No!" She barked and snatched his shirt.

"Fuck, Pierre!" Dustin snarled. "Sofia? You okay?"

"I'm... okay," she said, suddenly dizzy. "Dustin, don't shoot him, please! _Please!"_

A dark shape moved from the rocks while three more fanned out from the sides. Two strained against her grip and tensed. Sofia held onto him as if his life depended on it and shook her head to clear the dizziness.

"Darian, lower your head," she ordered. The man beside her hesitated and then obeyed. She yanked his hood off.

"Dusty, Jule's got him!" Rainy shouted triumphantly. "I'm calling the choppers."

"Fast," Dustin ordered. "The vamps are heading this way."

She twisted her head to see the jumbled outlines of the small army of vamps running toward them from the direction of the burning mountain. A flashlight blinded her. She held up her hand.

" _Mon dieu!_ " Pierre said then cursed in French.

"Holy shit," Dustin breathed as the flashlight rose to Darian's face. "Holster 'em! _Now!_ "

He moved forward, stopping to stare at Darian.

Pierre dropped beside her, muttering. Sofia sagged, exhausted. Before she started to drift into an in-between place, she saw Darian stand and look around, awake for the first time in thousands of years.

Dustin's face was a mottled mess of emotions. Darian eyed him warily, not recognizing him, before he knelt beside her again. Heat scorched through her and she gasped, fully awake once again.

"You can see the stars, _kiri,_ " he said in his monotonous, mechanical voice.

"I know, Darian. You did good," she managed.

"Rainy, where's my chopper?" Dustin shouted, drawing his weapon again.

"Looks like we should start running, _non_?" Pierre asked.

Sofia pushed Darian's hands away. Though she was fatigued, her wounds were healed. Pierre hauled her up.

"Pierre, carry her. We'll run," Dustin said.

_I'll protect you, kiri,_ Darian said into her mind. Before Pierre could comply with Dustin's order, Darian shoved him aside and swept her off her feet.

They ran to the next nearest group of rocks, where a handful of four-by-fours waited. Darian placed her behind Dustin and climbed behind Rainy. Sofia wrapped her arms around Dustin and squeezed her eyes closed as the engine roared to life. Sand flew as they soared and leapt through the desert. The distant beat of a helicopter's wings drew closer as they raced away from the mountains. A chopper landed ahead of them on a wide, flat mesa.

Dustin braked hard and swung his leg over the handlebars.

"Sofi, go! Rainy, Lon, with me!"

Sofia shielded her eyes against the wind and sand. She hopped off the four by four, reached out to Darian and grabbed his hand, pulling him with her. His world was one of confusion, his memories overwhelming as the dam that had been in place for thousands of years crumbled. Darian held his head, and she wrapped her arms around him, wishing she could protect him from the dark memories breaking free.

I'm scared, kiri.

"Hold on, Darian," she whispered, tears blurring her vision. "I'm here."

He showed her a picture of where he'd taken Damian.

"Thank you, Darian!" she cried.

_I'm scared, kiri,_ he said again into her head.

She felt his fear and squeezed her eyes closed, the man in her arms colliding with the man hiding in the corner of her mind. They became one, and this time, when she reached out to him, he took her hand. She sobbed, absorbing the black visions spilling through his mind. Thousands of years of Czerno's depravity threatened to consume him. She was his only relief, and the visions threatened to consume _her._

Peace, Oracle.

She didn't recognize the voice in her mind and felt the presence of someone—or something—beside her. A hand swept the dark memories from her mind, and she sagged against Darian, feeling the same sense of peace overtake his mind.

"Master, I did as you said," Darian said in a choked voice. "I saved _kiri_."

_Good boy. Be at peace tonight, both of you._ The being left, but the peace remained. Darian began to cry, and she held him tighter.

The chopper landed. Pierre hopped out and helped her and then Darian. They were at another discreet location, this one nestled between the peaks of two mountains. She darted off the landing pad with him, and the chopper went up again. The men on the small base drew their weapons at the sight of Darian. She took his arm, terrified they'd shoot the lost soul. Pierre led them to the empty, well-lit helicopter hangar, where several men crowded around a still body on the hangar floor. Her heart flipped when she saw him, and she sprinted forward.

"Damian!"

He was unconscious and pale. She dropped to his side and fluttered kisses across his face.

"Jule, what's wrong with him?" she asked, twisting.

"Poison," Darian croaked.

Jule's arm shot out to block the interloper's progress toward them. His mouth dropped open, and disbelief crossed his features. She hopped to her feet and shoved Jule's arm away, pulling Darian to the ground beside her.

"Darian, what is it?" she demanded. "Please tell me!"

He held his head and leaned into her, struggling. She took his face in her hands again, forcing his attention on her.

"Please, Darian!"

"Claire's... blood," he said at last.

"Claire... was meant to be his Oracle," Jule said hoarsely. He knelt beside them, staring at the horribly scarred man. "It's _your_ blood, Sofia."

Horror descended upon her as she realized the depth of Claire's betrayal. Darian crouched beside his brother, studying him while emotions flew across his features. He placed his hands on Damian's face. Damian's body bucked. Darian moved away. Damian rolled onto his side and puked blood into the sand.

Sofia touched him, heart rejoicing. Dazed, Damian sat up.

" _Kiri_ is safe," Darian said in a monotone voice.

Damian's head whipped around. The two brothers stared at each other, and she choked back a sob, joy and horror flying through her.

"Everyone out." Damian's voice was soft, but his command made everyone in the hangar jump. Jule pulled her to her feet and half-carried her out. He gripped her arms and turned her to face him. His gaze was unusually intense as he struggled to control his emotions. Jule embraced her, hugging her hard. She clung to him, overwhelmed.

"Here I thought I'd lost two people I cared about only to recover three," he said, hoarse. "If you weren't D's, I'd kiss you."

"Jule! We need to go!" Pierre's voice urged.

"All hell is about to start raining down," Jule said, pulling away from her. "Go with Pierre. Rainy wants to chew your ass out for dragging Traci into this, and then I'll chew your ass out for being so fucking stupid."

He wiped the tears from her face and kissed her forehead.

"Go," he said, pushing her toward her awaiting bodyguard.

"Bring them both back to me, Jule," she whispered. He gave a brisk nod.

"Sofia!" a female voice cried. Sofia turned, surprised to Traci racing toward her from across the helipad. Traci flung her arms around her, her fear fresh on her face. Sofia hugged her back.

"Two women," Pierre muttered.

"Pierre, get 'em outta here," Jule said with a toss of his head in their direction.

"Gladly. Come with me, ladies." Pierre gripped each of their arms and led them toward two black Tahoes. Sofia twisted to see the helo-hangar one last time, not yet able to believe the night's events.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Damian's brother was somewhere inside the scarred shell of a man before him. He stared into Darian's gold eyes, seeking some sign of the man he'd known. Darian struggled visibly, his gaze stormy and his frame shaking. Damian's own head was fuzzy from the effects of the drink he'd been force fed. He had a throbbing headache, and his body didn't respond the way it should.

"Do you know me, brother?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Damian," came the mechanical voice. " _Kiri_ loves you."

Damian couldn't help his smile at the words. Darian knew him because of Sofia. He reached out to his brother, absorbing what memories were in his mind. Darian's mind was like a disaster scene after a hurricane. The bits and pieces of who he was were there, disjointed and scattered. Two people were all he knew with certainty: Sofia and the Watcher with his forest green eyes. His brother wasn't sure of anything or anyone else, even if he did match the faces in his thoughts with those around him.

"Be gentle. He'll break if you push him," the Watcher said.

Damian twisted, surprised to find his body stiff with the simple movement. He was too out of sorts to feel the Watcher's arrival.

"Master," Darian said, bowing his head.

The sight of someone once so powerful and proud in submission to _anyone_ infuriated him. For the first time in his life, Damian was speechless when confronted with the horror before him.

"He's been abused for thousands of years," the Watcher said, pausing beside the still, scarred man and resting a hand on his head. "He'll need your help."

"Like I wouldn't help him," he snapped. He looked to his brother again, fury of the deepest kind running within him. He loved Darian, always would, but understanding what he'd been through for thousands of years made him wish his brother had died instead of being forced to bear such pain.

"I can only coach," the Watcher reminded him. "Your Oracle and Darian had to do the real work. If she'd been any less of an Oracle than what she is..." Darian would have spent the remainder of his life in the hell that'd claimed him. Damian's throat tightened at the unspoken words.

"Claire did this to him."

"Yes, she did," the Watcher said. "After the attack, Czerno brought Darian back to life. He wasn't part of the plan to kill him, but he found out from Claire when they met shortly before Darian's death. He understood that the Black God can never truly kill the White God for fear of unleashing the Original Beings, who would crush him. He was there to save your brother when Isac finished and kept him under control using Claire's blood. I think he's since been sickened with evil and forgotten if you don't exist, neither does he."

"My own enemy saved him," Damian said with a harsh laugh. "Our world is so fucked up."

"Yes, _ikir_ , it is," the Watcher agreed.

The depth of Claire's betrayal made him wish he could kill her again a thousand times over! He'd been too kind in his execution of the sick bitch!

" _Kiri_ ," Darian said almost sadly and looked around as if lost.

Damian's spinning emotions warmed at the idea that Sofia saved him. He didn't want to think about the probability behind such a powerful Oracle appearing when she did. No, he wouldn't look that gift horse in the mouth, not when the embodiment of her ability sat hunched before him.

"Will he ever be close to the man I knew?" Damian whispered the thought, unable to help the tears that rose with it.

"There is a legend among the humans of the phoenix, who rises from his own ashes," the Watcher replied. "Your brother will never be what he was, but he will rise again as the Grey God."

He looked to the Watcher, surprised. "Darian is the Grey God?"

"Yes, _ikir_. He will be forever stuck between the two worlds, the good and the evil, without entering either or leaving either behind. His will not be an easy role to fill."

He reached out to his brother and touched his head to Darian's forehead. Darian didn't resist, and Damian delighted in the idea that the sound of him breathing meant his brother was truly alive.

"Watcher, I love him, and I can't fathom his pain," he said. "Will he be lost like this forever?"

"No. Even in human time, his suffering will be short but it will be very bad for him until it ends," the Watcher replied.

"Sofia can help him."

"There will be others who will help him, too. He will need them all, and he will need you if he is to take his place as the Grey God. One of your team captains will have friends as well."

"Jule is as old as you," Damian said. "Or older?"

"Close," the Watcher admitted. "Jule is still not in favor among my kind. His penance is not yet served."

"Good. Leave him here with me."

"You'll not face anyone willing to challenge you for him, _ikir_ , I assure you, though there may be some left who _might_ help him." The amount of distaste in the Watcher's voice amused him. Jule had never said what he'd done to piss someone off and get exiled to earth, but it must have been bad if the Watcher's kind clipped his powers and sent him packing. "By your leave, _ikir_ ," the Watcher said with a bow of his head.

Damian waved him away, his attention returning to Darian. He touched his brother's face, his emotions soaring once again.

Darian was alive. Sofia was safe. In that moment, nothing else mattered to him. He released a deep breath and rose, aware the birth of a new god and discovery of a powerful Oracle indicated nothing but more trouble to come.

"Come, brother, let's take you back to _kiri_ ," he said.

Darian stood obediently, and Damian's throat tightened again to know his brother was at his side.

*

Sofia watched the last of the blood swirl down the drain. She leaned her head against the shower wall, exhausted. Damian's heavy ring hung off a chain around her neck, and she clenched it. The drive from the mountains to the safe house had seemed to take forever. She was alone with her thoughts the entire way despite the presence of Pierre and Traci.

"You okay?" Traci called, voice muffled by the bathroom door.

"Yeah." Sofia turned off the shower and dried herself before opening the door between the small bathroom and the bedroom. Traci sat on an unmade bed belonging to one of the Tucson Sector members, and Sofia eyed her Guardian. "Pierre, can I get some privacy?"

"Nope," he said from his position on a chair inside the door. "You're both grounded."

Traci handed her a small pile of her clothing. Doubtful the model's clothes would fit, Sofia moved deeper into the bathroom to dress in jeans too long for her petite frame and a t-shirt too snug to be comfortable.

"When will you know if the house is safe?" she called.

"Soon," was his vague response. "They have to finish their clean-up."

"Did they find Czerno?"

"They won't. He goes poof and returns to one of his other bases, leaving everyone else to fry."

Sofia shivered, unable to help the trickle of fear and pure hatred for the sick creature who tortured Darian.

"Did you really shoot her?" Traci asked.

"Not on purpose," Pierre grated.

"That's kind of an extreme form of revenge for asking you about croissants."

Pierre mumbled a few curses. Sofia wiped the fog away from the mirror. Her bruises were gone, and her two-toned eyes were calmer than they'd been. She hadn't felt like she belonged in this world until she'd seen what good she could do. The death visions, the distrust everyone on the planet had for a soul-reader, the inability to eat... they were nothing compared to helping a man find his soul again. While she didn't yet understand the depths of her new world, she found peace in knowing this was indeed her world, too.

"Pierre, I want to go home!" she complained.

"Okay."

"Really?" She poked her head out of the bathroom. He lowered his phone.

"All clear. You are coming with us, mademoiselle," he said to Traci.

Traci sprang up and snatched her purse. Pierre grimaced and rose more slowly. Sofia slipped on oversized flip-flops Traci dug out of one of the closets. Pierre's phone dinged, and he opened it again.

"There are a few missions going on, but they said the house is clear," he said. "Linda is there. Looks like we'll have to evac and rebuild the Tucson Sector. Czerno knows where all our safe houses are."

Sofia only half-listened as she led them down the stairs, anxious to get back to Damian and the place that had become her home. Grande and Lon awaited them in the living room, and they rose as she approached. Two armored Tahoes sat out front with an additional two more well-armed Guardians. They all piled into the SUVs.

"If I weren't so scared, this would be neat," Traci whispered to her. "Armored cars, bodyguards... like we're famous or something."

"It is kinda neat," Sofia agreed. "Until your bodyguard shoots you."

"If you keep mentioning it, it won't be an accident next time," Pierre retorted, shooting her a look in the rearview mirror. She smiled, and Traci covered her mouth to keep him from hearing her laugh.

"Pierre," Sofia said with a serious note. He glanced at her. "Thank you for taking care of me. You're a good man. I hope you stay my bodyguard."

"You're welcome." Though still arch, his tone had softened enough to show her he wasn't unaffected by her genuine words.

He drove them through back roads and alleys to ensure no one followed before taking the highway and exiting into a direction that appeared to be nothing but desert. The mansion was invisible until they crossed the boundary of Damian's magic, when it appeared out of nowhere: an expanse of green grass, trees, and the stone building in the middle of the desert. Pierre dropped them off in front, waiting until they stepped across the entrance before driving off. The compound hummed with activity, from the gardens that served as a helipad to the teeming barracks and Guardians pacing the halIs. She was reminded of a scene from a movie, where an army mobilized for war. They remained in the foyer, uneasy with the amount of activity and weapons, until approached.

"Linda's asleep already. Go on up and rest. We've got to start moving everything within twenty-four hours," Lon told them, slinging a machine gun over his shoulder.

"Traci," Rainy appeared from down another hallway, holding out his hand. She went to him, ducking out of the paths of a few Guardians.

In the midst of the activity in the mansion, Sofia saw Dustin. He settled one of his cool looks on her and tossed his head toward the stairs. He didn't look to be in a mood for questions, so she hurried past him to her room, Pierre trailing. She closed the door, surprised at how quiet her room was.

She was about to lie down when she sensed Damian walk by. Her heart soared, and she touched the ring at her neck. She hesitated, sensing he would be angrier with her than Jule or Dustin had been. Or both combined. Steeling herself, she passed Pierre at her door and knocked on Damian's door.

Not in the mood, Sofia.

She opened the door, heart pounding. He was framed against the balcony once again, and she leaned against the door before venturing forward. Despite the cool fear spiraling through her, she couldn't help but feel thrilled at the sight of him after she thought she'd lost him.

"If you ever, _ever,_ do anything like that again..." He didn't have to finish the threat. His tone was enough to tell her he'd show no mercy. He was too angry to face her, and she was glad of it. She hugged herself, wanting to throw her arms around him but knowing he was in as an approachable of a mood as Dustin.

"I brought this back," she said and pulled off the chain, placing the ring on the table nearest the door. "I wanted to apologize to you, Damian," she continued. "When I was in that room..."

His grip on the railing tightened, and she stopped, afraid of pushing him through the brittle façade containing his emotions. After a thick moment of silence, she forced herself to continue.

"I swore to myself I'd do this," she said. "Damian, I love you. If you don't hate me for what I did, if you still... want me... I'm yours."

He said nothing, didn't move. A knock sounded at his door. She took the opportunity to escape, darting by Dustin to her room.

She'd said her piece. She didn't know if she'd hurt him enough to drive him away forever or if there was a sliver of him that still wanted her. Tortured by the thought she might have waited too long to realize what she had, she paced her room until too tired to stand.

*

Just when he'd thought Sofia couldn't surprise him more, she did. The insanity of what she did was beyond his comprehension. While he loved the _thought_ of her commitment to him, her action made him want to explode. And then to waltz in and deliver such an important message at a time when he wanted nothing more than to remain infuriated with her for her actions ...

"Fucking women," he muttered.

"That fucking woman saved your brother's life," Dusty reminded him.

He hadn't yet reconciled how he felt about seeing his brother alive and in so much pain. He was more and more appalled by the memories afflicting his brother, what he'd gone through since his supposed death. Darian was showing more signs of life. He'd spent the morning vomiting blood and was able to remember Jule and Dusty by afternoon.

And _kiri_. He knew Sofia better than he knew Damian. Damian closed his eyes in pain, unable to shake his brother's black history.

"Though if I were you, I'd still be super pissed at her."

"I am," he assured him.

Dusty's gaze grew intent. "Damian, I'm sorry. We should have prevented her from leaving. I never thought she'd do something like that," he said quietly.

"I don't hold you responsible," Damian said with a smile. "If there's one thing I've learned about humans, it's that you can't control them."

"It _is_ my responsibility. She's your mate and my sister. I swear it'll never happen again. The oath I took to you and Jule I now take to her." Dusty's conviction was on his face. Damian was touched.

"Thank you, Dusty," he replied in a hushed tone. "I doubt she'll appreciate it though. The first time she forgets your birthday, all hell will break loose."

Dusty shook his head.

"I am grateful to you, Dusty," Damian replied more seriously. "It's been a rough few days."

"How are you feeling?"

"Good. Easier for me than Darian to readjust."

"How is he?" Dusty asked.

"He's lost in his mind right now. He'll have to work through it."

"I don't suppose there are any shrinks among the Naturals."

"Don't think so. Sofia can work with him some. I don't know how she reached him inside that dark maze," Damian said with a shake of his head.

"Neither do I."

"What a sick bastard. If I could kill Czerno..." Damian swore darkly. How sick was the man who kept his former enemy as a slave?

"Fuck, D, I'd take killing Claire over Czerno any day," Jule said, appearing near the door. "Czerno's job is to be a bad guy. Claire was the worst kind of traitor imaginable."

"Good point," Damian said. "I was able to take care of that issue, though. I can't touch Czerno."

"I love Sofia, but I hope you take a switch to her ass," Jule advised as he tossed himself into one of the chairs.

"I told him it was your fault," Dusty said.

"It was," Jule agreed. "And I'm deeply sorry for it, Damian. On what soul I have, I swear never to allow harm to come to _kiri_."

Damian chuckled. "It wasn't either of your faults. I think this was a small thing they call fate," he assured them. "And thank you both."

"We still good for tomorrow?" Jule asked, referencing their journey to Europe.

"Yep. Dusty and Darian will be babysitting my Oracle."

"I'll keep her in line," Dusty assured him.

"I'm too angry at her to pity her," Jule said. "You gonna try to rein in Pierre, too?"

"If only. The day _kiri_ grows tired of him, he's going to my behavior modification training," Dusty assured him.

"Only if _kiri_ agrees," Damian warned.

"Is this how you train 'em in the eastern hemisphere?" Dusty demanded, turning to Jule.

"Better a benevolent team player than a dictator," Jule retorted.

"Disciplinarian. I don't let them run amok and follow their _feelings_. I give them structure," Dusty corrected him.

"Like robots."

Their long-standing feud over leadership styles was interrupted as Darian appeared in the midst of them. Damian's throat tightened, and his eyes misted at the sight of his brother. Darian appeared confused as he took in Jule and Dusty, recognition blooming slowly. He turned to Damian, his scarred features the most beautiful sight Damian had ever seen.

" _Ikir_ ," he said, nodding his head in submission. "May I see _kiri_?"

"You don't need permission to do anything," Damian said gently, aware his brother was not yet himself. "Please don't call me _ikir_. I'm your brother, not your master. And yes, go see _kiri_. She'll be happy to see you."

"I will be happy to see her, _ikir_ ," Darian said. He adored Sofia, that much was obvious, even if he wasn't really sure where—or who—he was most of the time. Damian's feelings for her swelled even more.

"How are you, Darian?" Jule asked with a warm smile.

"I am well, _ikir_ ," came the mechanical reply. "Please excuse me, _ikir_." And he was gone. Damian's gaze lingered. Darian had a long way to go, but he was alive.

"Take care of both of them, Dusty," he murmured.

"I swear it," Dustin said.

"He's as strong as you, D. He'll pull through," Jule said. "And Dust-man won't let anything near them."

"Damn right I won't."

Damian smiled. He knew as much and was as grateful for the two men before him as he was at finding his brother again.

*

Visions of Czerno and home videos from Darian morphed into a grotesque nightmare that made her body shake, even as she tried to push the dream from her thoughts. Insomnia was a blessing from such darkness.

_Come,_ Damian ordered _._

She hesitated before pulling on her robe and obeying. The mansion was quiet again, the signs of activity from earlier gone. Pierre glanced up from the game he played on his iPhone as she passed him. He watched her until verifying where she went before returning to the game.

Damian's suite was lit only by a blazing fire in the hearth, and the scent of Jule's cigars hung in the air. She waited, gaze falling to Damian. He appeared calm and in control again, if not relaxed, with the only three men he'd ever trusted. Her heart almost burst at the sight of Darian in one of the seats. Though he was still unable to understand exactly what was going on, he'd improved dramatically even since she last saw him.

Damian waved her in without looking at her, his eyes reflecting the fire. He patted the seat beside him on the couch facing Dustin and Jule. She didn't hesitate to settle beside him, knees drawn to her chest, and leaned into his body, struck by the difference between the men before her: Dustin, the cold Greek prince, and the mysterious dark warmth of Jule. At once, the home videos and nightmares faded. She sighed in relief and rested her head on Damian's shoulder. He moved his arm to wrap around her and pulled her against him.

"You're not forgiven," he reminded her.

"Damn straight," Jule said, though there was warmth in his face. "If I had a woman who pulled the bullshit you did, you'd—"

"Be in deep shit, _kiri_ ," Darian finished for him.

Jule chuckled. Darian's disapproving gaze mirrored Damian's, and Sofia hid her face against Damian's chest as the three men facing her gave her similar looks.

"I'll never have a woman, if they're this much trouble," Dustin declared.

"Agreed. And if I do, she'll learn to call Damian, Dusty, or Darian before leaving the house," Jule chimed in. "Which is exactly what you will do, _kiri_."

Sofia couldn't help but say, "You'll both have women, and Dustin, when you're in trouble, she'll call _me_."

Jule and Dustin both looked to Damian.

"Not sure I like this Oracle shit," Dustin voiced for both of them.

"No way, _kiri_ ," Jule said firmly.

"If she didn't come after you when you needed her, why would you want her at all?" she challenged.

"Definitely steering clear of Americans," Dustin added.

"Because, _kiri_ , you can't do what these men can," Jule scolded. "And D doesn't have any other brothers for you to rescue. You know that's the only reason you're not locked in your room for the rest of your life."

"No worries," Damian said with an edge that made her still. "I'll take care of it."

"Glad I'm not you," Dustin said, leveling a look at her.

She huddled closer to Damian, unwilling to look at his face. "What does _kiri_ mean?" she asked.

"Beloved. It's used for sisters, mothers, and mates in our world," Jule answered. "By the way, you're on my list. I hope I'm off yours."

Her throat tightened, understanding the honor despite his nonchalant delivery. She nodded.

"What list?" Dustin asked.

"You're not on hers," Jule assured him. "I imagine only Pierre is on it now."

She laughed.

"I sense a reassignment," Dustin said, gaze going to the fire.

Her gaze fell to Darian. He was struggling. By the blank look in his unseeing eyes, he'd fallen into his thoughts again. She shifted away from Damian and touched Darian's forehead, absorbing the horror of his memories. She drew a sharp breath but forced herself to stay, to take his pain.

"No, _kiri_ , you've done enough," Darian said, taking her hands. "I have much to atone for."

His heavy words broke her heart, but she respected his request and returned to Damian's side. The horrors from his mind fell away as she curled against her mate again.

The men fell into silence, and she sensed the silent communications she couldn't hear. Comfortable against Damian, she drifted into a restful doze until he shifted. She roused herself, surprised to see the other three had disappeared at some point. She sat up, forcing herself to meet his golden gaze. His face was unreadable, his gaze steady.

"Please don't be angry," she said, touching his face. He took her hand in his and leaned forward, allowing his forehead to rest against hers. She sighed, delighting in the tender moment.

"Are you going to run from me again?" he asked without moving.

"No, Damian. Never again. I promise," she swore just as quietly.

"Good." He stood and swept her into his arms. "I've got plans for you tonight," he said, desire flaring on his face as he carried her into his bedroom. "And every night from here on out."

Her heart sang as she realized she hadn't lost him after all, her body echoing the desire on his face.

*

The next morning, the sight of snow falling outside her window drew her gaze as she packed for the evacuation. Damian replaced his necklace around her neck, a small comfort until his work in the European front was finished. She approached the window, amazed at the snow, until her gaze fell to a figure kneeling like a dark gargoyle in the middle of the white lawn. He'd been there long enough that the snow had covered his footprints.

Alarmed, she swung on her robe and snatched one of Damian's trench coats. She flew down the stairs and through the teeming hallways. Pierre trotted after her into the cold morning. The air was cold, brisk, the snowflakes falling faster. Snow crunched under her feet and quickly soaked her flimsy slippers.

"Darian!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him. His eyes were closed, his body hunched and hands clenched together. He wore nothing more than a T-shirt and jeans. Snow covered his hair, and his skin was cold. "Darian!" She touched his face.

He opened his eyes and stared at her, a tortured look on his face.

"I remember them," he said. "All of them." His memories flashed, and she winced at the sight of the executions he'd committed for Czerno.

"That wasn't you, Darian," she whispered. "You had no control over yourself."

"I'm weak."

"You're not. Damian was crippled by the same thing." She regretted alluding to it the moment the raw look of anguish crossed his face.

"Claire," he said hoarsely. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched hard enough for the muscles to tick. Tears escaped one eye and trailed down his face. She felt her own tears spill over at the depth of his pain. His was not the kind of pain she could fix.

"You're safe, Darian," she said and draped the trench coat over his shoulders. She placed her hands on his face and pulled him closer, hugging him. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Dustin approached, his gaze as haunted as Darian's. He knelt, ruffling the snow from Darian's hair.

"It's okay, brother," he said quietly. "Let's get you inside." He helped Darian to his feet. "Sofi, get ready. We're evac-ing you and Darian next," he ordered. "Pierre, pack your things. You're going, too."

She didn't miss the look of relief that crossed Pierre's face and suspected he'd been threatened with a reassignment for shooting her. Obviously, Damian had reconsidered. She was happy for it. Pierre tossed her a familiar cell phone as they entered the mansion. An unread text message blinked on the screen.

4got 2 tell you. Luv u 2.

She grinned and typed a response. _Man up and tell me in person._

_Next time I see you, I'll do better—I'll show you,_ he promised, his whisper sliding into her mind. A thrill went through her.

"I still hate that," she muttered.

In the words of an Oracle I once knew, get used to it.

"I love you, Damian. Come home soon."

I will, kiri, I will.

Truly thrilled about the start to her new life, she folded the phone and dropped it into her pocket. She followed Dustin and Darian down the hall.

_Sofia._ The new voice in her mind was the same as the voice she'd heard during the chopper ride with Darian. He was waiting for her. She pushed open the cracked door to the library. Inside was a man she recognized from Czerno's, the small man with dark green eyes and white hair. Her heart slowed, and she froze inside the doorway.

He gave a fatherly smile and approached her, holding his hand out, palm up. She hesitated, torn between screaming for Dustin and staying where she was. She touched her palm to his, driven back by the impact of images that rippled through her. The whole of Damian's history, his forefathers', all the way to the Beginning, when spirits milled without purpose before the Original Beings shaped the universe into something much greater.

She snapped her hand back and stared at him, overwhelmed. The man before her was from before time, before life, before _everything_. He clasped his hands behind his back. The memories rippled through her then coalesced, locking themselves away in the back of her mind.

"Watcher." Dustin's warning growl was cold. He took her arm, pulling her behind him. Her gaze was riveted to the man before her. His green gaze switched from her to Dustin, never blinking.

"I mean no harm, Guardian," the Watcher said.

"What are you?" she breathed, the images swimming through her thoughts.

" _Ikira_ , I am a Watcher, one of those who guards the Guardians," he said with another of his warm smiles. "My job is to make sure the pendulum never swings too far into the court of the Black God."

"Bullshit," Dusty snapped. "You have no loyalties to either God."

"True, but it's always been in the Watchers' best interest to ensure humanity perpetuates. The Black God doesn't share our view."

"Master." Darian's voice was monotonous. "I obeyed you. _Kiri_ is safe."

She turned to see his gaze on the ground, his body braced as if for a blow. Heartbroken by his return to the slave he was, Sofia was stopped from comforting him by Dustin's grip on her arm.

"I know, Darian," the Watcher said. "You did well. If I may, _ikir_?"

He looked to Dustin. Dustin gave a tense nod and pushed her behind him, out of the Watcher's path. He was coiled and ready to snap if the Watcher so much as looked at her too long. She wasn't about to contradict the cold executioner when he was in this mood.

The Watcher approached Darian, who knelt in response to a silent command. The Watcher placed both hands on his head. Darian jerked.

"Tomorrow, when you awake, you will no longer be a slave. You will become the Grey God, who you were born to be," the Watcher told him.

"I thought Watchers had a policy of non-interference," Dustin said in a measured tone.

"We do, _ikir_ , unless the balance is so disturbed that we must interfere." His words sent a chill through Sofia. "You will see me again, _ikir_. "And you, _ikira_. You will remember the secrets I gave you one day, when you must use them."

She didn't like the ominous words and looked up at Dustin again, seeking to gauge just how serious the situation was. He was pale beneath the golden skin. She crept closer to him. If he was worried, she had a reason to be terrified.

"My dear Darian," the Watcher said in a softer tone, "I cannot take the pain of the memories you will experience in the morning when you remember the whole of your existence. Do not be consumed by them. You have a great fate to fulfill in this life yet."

"Yes, master," was the monotonous response.

"Tell the White God I send him greetings," the Watcher said and moved away from them. In a gentle flicker of light, he was gone. Sofia released the breath she was holding and moved in front of Dustin, gazing up at him. Her hands shook.

"Dustin?" she prompted when he remained staring at the place where the Watcher had been. He looked down at her. Sensing her fear, he touched her arm, the edge of tension dissipating. His look softened, and rare warmth crossed his features.

"There's a lotta shit about our world you'll figure out," he promised her. "Watchers rarely cause us harm, but they rarely involve themselves in our business either." His considering gaze returned to Darian. "Don't worry, _kiri_. First things first. We need to evac now."

She nodded, sensing there was much he wasn't saying. He shepherded them to the library door, returning to his original purpose. She took Darian's hand and led him down the hall like the lost child he was. She braced herself against the memories running through his head and the confusion as he tried to figure out where he was.

"You're safe, _kiri_ ," he said.

"So are you, Darian," she replied.

As they strode into the gardens toward an awaiting helicopter, she couldn't help but think she'd just stepped into something far greater than she could ever imagine.

***

The War of Gods series

Damian's Oracle

Damian's Assassin

Damian's Immortal

The Grey God

About the Author

Lizzy Ford is the award winning, internationally acclaimed author of over forty books written for young adult, new adult and adult romance readers, to include the internationally bestselling Rhyn Trilogy, Witchling Series and the War of Gods series. Lizzy has focused on keeping her readers happy by producing brilliant, gritty romances that remind people why true love is a trial worth enduring.

Lizzy's books can be found in every major ereader library. She lives in southern Arizona with her husband, three dogs and a cat.

Connect with Lizzy

Website

Blog

Facebook fan page

Twitter

Instagram

Pinterest

Goodreads

With so many books, it's hard to know where to start! Here's a quick list of suggestions!

Fan favorites (paranormal): "Katie's Hellion," "Dark Summer," "Damian's Oracle"

About a reader who gets sucked into a book: "Black Moon Draw"

Contemporary romance: "Semper Mine"

Spicy urban fantasy/paranormals: "Zoey Rogue","Charred Heart"

Sweet (fade to black sex scenes) paranormal romance: "Damian's Oracle," "Katie's Hellion," "Xander's Chance"

Novellas: (paranormal) "A Demon's Desire," (contemporary romance) "Maddy's Oasis"

Teen paranormals: "Dark Summer," "Cursed"

Teen literary fiction: "Broken Beauty"

Lizzy's first book ever: "Damian's Oracle"

Time travel: "West"

Sci-Fi romance: (dystopian) "Rebel Heart," (alien) "Kiera's Moon," (futuristic) "Star Kissed"

First books in each series

"Damian's Oracle" (War of Gods)

"Katie's Hellion" (Rhyn Trilogy)

"Gabriel's Hope" (Rhyn Eternal)

"Charred Heart" (Heart of Fire)

"Dark Summer" (Witchlings)

"Zoey Rogue" (Incubatti)

"Hear No" (Hidden Evil)

"West" (History Interrupted - standalones)

"Semper Mine" (Sons of War - standalones)

"Severed" (Starwalkers)

"Cursed" (Voodoo Nights)

"Broken Beauty" (Broken Beauty Novellas)

"Xander's Chance" (Damian Eternal)

"Elle's Journey" (The Foretold Trilogy)

"Kiera's Moon" (Anshan Saga)

Lizzy's complete catalogue

History Interrupted

West

East

North

South

Non-Series

Black Moon Draw

Sons of War

Semper Mine

Soldier Mine

SEAL Mine

Starwalkers Serials (with Julia Crane)

Severed

Trapped

Exiled

Revealed

Escaped

Heart of Fire

Charred Heart

Charred Tears

Charred Hope

Rhyn Trilogy

Katie's Hellion

Katie's Hope

Rhyn's Redemption

Rhyn Eternal

Gabriel's Hope

Deidre's Death

Darkyn's Mate

The Underworld

War of Gods

Damian's Oracle

Damian's Assassin

Damian's Immortal

The Grey God

Damian Eternal

Xander's Chance

The Black God

Unnamed

Unnatural

Unleashed

Omega Triloy

Omega

Zeta

Alpha

Anshan Saga

Kiera's Moon

Kiera's Home (novelette)

Kiera's Sun

Santa's Ninja Elves (short stories)

Natasha

Hunter

Non-series titles

Star Kissed

A Demon's Desire

The Warlord's Secret

Maddy's Oasis

Rebel Heart

Witchling

Dark Summer

Autumn Storm

Winter Fire

Spring Rain

Incubatti

Zoey Rogue

Zoey Avenger

Broken Beauty Novellas

Broken Beauty

Broken World

Voodoo Nights

Cursed

Chosen

#

Dissension

Chronicles of the Uprising: Book 1

By

Katie Salidas

Copyright © 2014 by Katie Salidas

EBOOK EDITION

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Cover Layout by Willsin Rowe http://willsinrowe.blogspot.com/

Editing by Sharazade http://sharazade.com/?p=825

Published by:

Rising Sign Books

For more information about my books email:

katiesalidas@gmail.com

For my sweet baby girl, Zoey.

I hope you grow up to be as strong as Mira.

Just don't be as jaded.

Prologue

Everyone joked about the end of the world, but when it finally happened, no one was laughing.

December 21, 2012.

Mankind's final day had been predicted for years, but no one had believed it would ever come. Why would they? There had been so many dates labeled "the end," and none had yet come to pass.

When the sun rose on that fateful day, everyone made their little jokes. Just one more hoax. Street merchants started selling "I survived the apocalypse... again" T-shirts. Everybody looked around, shrugged their shoulders, and got back to what they'd been doing. The world moved on.

But the day starts at different times across the globe. This particular prophesy — this doomsday prediction — had been made by the Mayan people. It wasn't until the sun rose in South America that the destruction began.

Previously docile fault lines began to quake. As if waking from a slumber, the earth rumbled from deep within like some ravenous beast scenting its prey, to be satisfied only by utter annihilation.

Volcanoes that had lain dormant for hundreds of years suddenly sprang into action, erupting with centuries of pent-up pressure, spewing hot geysers of acrid smoke. Rivers of magma belched out from the mouths of these angry mountains, scorching the land and devouring everything caught in their deadly flow. Thick clouds blanketed the sky, choking out the sunlight. Searing chunks of pumice rained down upon the land, burying entire cities and all their occupants in a rocky grave.

For decades — centuries, even — the Earth had been beaten and bruised, scratched and bitten by her inhabitants. It was only natural that she would fight back. And her retribution was merciless. Whole continents fragmented as fault lines deepened and separated. The surface of the earth ripped apart while its terrified inhabitants futilely attempted to escape the destruction. Nowhere was safe. Giant waves of destruction beat down upon every coast, swallowing islands whole and obliterating coastal cities on mainlands. Never before had the loss of life been so devastating.

No one was laughing now.

It was truly, utterly, the end of days.

In the aftermath, the few that remained alive were forced to band together for survival. Food was scarce; shelter was even harder to come by. People who had never conceived of a life without electricity, running water, and fast food were faced with the ultimate choice: to live, by whatever means possible... or to die.

In the ragged days that followed the destruction, many more lives were lost — or taken — in the name of survival. Those who remained were few and far between.

And not all survivors were human.

Supernatural creatures — vampires — once thought to be the stuff of myth and legend, were forced from the refuge of the shadows. With no place left to hide, their only choice for survival was to reveal themselves to those few humans who remained. Immortality gave vampires the ability to weather the storms, but their weakness to sunlight left them vulnerable and in desperate need of shelter and protection during the harsh days following the great cataclysms. Only through collaboration could both races stand the slightest chance for survival.

It was an uneasy truce at first. The vampires' need for blood, no matter how small a dose, made them objects of hatred rather than companionship; but their ability to protect the former city-dwelling humans against other predators in the night counted greatly in their favor. Eventually, human and vampire learned to co-exist.

Slowly, as they always do, humans adapted to their newly reshaped home. Society rebuilt itself. Life continued on planet Earth and even began to flourish. Over the next hundred years, eight thriving cities rose from the ashes, and humans once again took their place as masters of the Earth.

And with that power came hubris.

Formerly friends and vital allies, the vampires quickly became targets – victims of the humans' drive to be top of the food chain. Rumors and lies spread quickly about what vicious and cold-hearted demons the vampires truly were. Human deaths, even when the cause was not loss of blood, were blamed on vampires. Long forgotten was the help the vampires had given to their human brethren in those early days of reconstruction.

The human race came to see vampires as nothing more than criminals and outlaws. Vermin. Using the vampires' vulnerability to sunlight and starvation, the humans turned their once-helpful protectors into slaves. Hunted down and brought to so-called justice, vampires were faced with the same brutal choice the humans had confronted a century earlier: Succumb to the will of humans, or end their days on Earth.

To live by whatever means possible... or to die.

Chapter 1

April 17th, 2210 – New Haven City. _Westernmost_ Province of the Iron Gate, Pacific Coast

The roar of the crowd, all twenty-five-thousand people in attendance, rose to a thundering crescendo when Mira delivered a bone-crunching blow to her opponent's ribs. Standing only five feet tall, she might not have appeared a formidable warrior, but the thin, spiky-haired waif of a vampire could hold her weight and more when put to the test. Amplified by the superb acoustics, the sound of bones cracking echoed through the Superdome arena. The defeated, a red-headed male vampire staggered, punch-drunk, and then dropped to his knees. Dirt and sweat coated his face but could not mask the fear in his icy blue eyes. His was a look Mira had seen so many times before. Her opponent's immortal life had finally come to an end, and he was ready to take the final deadly blow.

Above her, Mira knew the fifty-foot mega screen showed her hapless victim in brilliant resolution, ensuring that all who were attending, and those watching from the comfort of their homes, could see these last gruesome moments in crystal clear high-definition.

Mira gazed down at her opponent's blood-soaked face. Though he was her enemy for the moment, she did not relish having to end him. No one should be forced into the arena and told to kill or be killed. It wasn't right. But it was what was demanded of her, and given the choice between her life and someone else's... well, there really was no choice. No matter the cost, Mira was a survivor.

She glanced up to the large private box overlooking the arena. A well-dressed man in deep-purple robes sat, enjoying what appeared to be a dinner of filet mignon and roast potatoes. Even here, in the dusty arena below, Mira's enhanced senses picked up the tantalizing scent of very rare, bloody steak. She could hardly believe that a human could not only watch the murder about to take place, but also sit and eat the dead flesh of a once-living being while doing it. From the smell of it, the poor beast was practically still bleeding on his plate. Who was truly the more savage creature?

Over the crowd's roar, an announcer introduced the well-dressed man, Lucian Stavros, Regent of the Iron Gate. Lucian gently and purposefully slowly set down his knife and fork. He took another moment to wipe his face clean and then smiled, acknowledging the roaring crowd.

Chants of "Death, death, death" rang out from the throng as a single unified demand.

The Regent listened for a moment, making a show of putting his hands to his ears to hear screaming hoard's request, and then held a hand out, with his thumb pointed to the side.

As if the next moment were the most important, the anticipating mass hushed. Eerie silence filled the arena as everyone watched for the Regent to make his decision.

From her vantage point below, Mira saw the steely look of determination cross the Regent's face. If she didn't know better, she might have thought he took this decision seriously; but then, he was human, and they never cared much if her kind lived or died. Lucian Stavros took a cursory glance down at Mira. Their eyes met. It was only a brief moment, but in that short time, Mira saw him waver.

Could it be true, she wondered, or was it just a trick of the light? No human actually cared about the lives of vampires. The moment faded, and the fleeting thought left.

Mira saw the Regent's decision. He turned his thumb down. Death!

The crowd went wild.

The last hope for her defeated opponent had vanished; Mira had to finish him. "Sorry," she whispered to the half-dead vampire on his knees before her. Though her fangs tingled at the prospect of tasting his final dying moments — her reward, if you could call it that, for living through another battle — she did not enjoy what she was about to do. Like her, he was a slave, forced into servitude to the humans as they saw fit. He had not asked for this, and neither had she. But, despite what either of them wanted, it was the will of the crowd, the humans, that had to be served.

Aiming to sever the carotid artery with her fangs, Mira dove at her opponent's neck. His death would be quick. At least she could afford him that luxury.

Hot, sweet, and energizing, his blood flowed freely down her parched throat. She'd been starved for so long. Denied the one thing she needed. And now, free to drink her fill, it was all she could do not to let the beast within her take over. Blood was everything: food, drink, life-giving essence, and pure ecstasy. Even the smallest amount could provide healing nourishment and pleasure all at once. But Mira could not let herself take pleasure from it, knowing the source. This was no willing donor. This was a fallen comrade. A fellow vampire. One of her own kind. His death ordered by the command of the humans. No matter how good his blood tasted, it was not for her to enjoy. She'd take only what she needed to heal from her wounds, and let his death come quickly.

More cheers erupted around Mira. The crowd, despite being entirely human, proved more bloodthirsty than she. The irony of it was sickening. Distantly, she heard the announcer proclaim her the winner.

With a roar, she threw her head back, ripping out her opponent's throat, spraying what remained of his blood out into the air. They wanted carnage – they could have it. She had to keep her adoring fans happy lest they turn on her. In the arena, the life or death of a gladiator often came down to the will of the crowd. And though she was repulsed by what she had to do, she knew how to play the game.

The satisfying flush of fresh blood in her system and the heady rush that came with it was short lived. The reality of her situation was always close to the surface. Above, the giant dome roof parted, sending a hot blast of UV light down around Mira like a cage.

Not wanting to let them regain their strength, the humans were quick to remind vampires where their place was and who their masters were. Not even afforded a moment's respite for her victory, Mira was already enduring the painful reminder that she was a slave. Worse, a prisoner.

Her skin singed where the light touched. Instinctively, she held up her hands in surrender. The faster she let them haul her away to the prison level, the better.

The crowd around still roared with applause. But were they cheering for Mira, or happy to see her being tortured by blinding light? A bit of both, probably. Humans loved to see any bit of vampire suffering. Though it angered her, Mira would not show it and invite their ire.

Two humans, one male and one female, approached Mira, both wearing standard issue black Kevlar body suits and hoods with a wooden stake and hammer emblazoned across the chest. Handlers. Specially trained to deal with vampires and equipped to kill if necessary. Among their weapons were UV torches, quick blasting light sticks able to direct a powerful beam of ultraviolet light at the push of a button. The female's hand inched towards her UV torch as they approached Mira. She was a new appointee as Mira's handler, who preferred to shoot first and ask questions later. Mira hated the mocha-skinned Amazon wannabe and would have loved nothing more than to rip her to shreds. Few females were allowed to be handlers, and this one had wanted to prove herself from the moment she'd been assigned to Mira.

Once Mira might have acted on her desire to kill the nuisance handler and take whatever punishment she'd be given, but after years in this prison Mira had learned her lesson. Fighting back was best done strategically. Immortality was not invincibility, and she was no fool.

"Arms out, slave." The largest of the two handlers, a male with a deep voice, barked the order at her.

"Come to congratulate me on my victory and adorn me with jewelry?" With a cocky smile, she held out her hands, awaiting the silver cuffs with which they'd restrain her.

"Silence!" The male refused to look at her. He fastened the cuffs around her wrists and pulled back quickly, almost as if he feared what Mira might do.

Silver stung her skin, but Mira wouldn't let on that she was in any pain. "I always did have a thing for the strong silent types." She smirked despite the discomfort the cuffs were already creating. Hives were beginning to pepper Mira's smooth alabaster skin. An annoying allergic reaction, but she'd never admit how much it bothered her. Any sign of weakness could be exploited.

The male handler refused to acknowledge her or engage her further. He continued to work shackling her feet and then connected another silver chain between the two sets of restraints. When finished, he pointed toward the door at the edge of the arena. The female handler pressed a few buttons on a small communicator device around her wrist. Above, the dome began to close, and the shafts of light surrounding Mira vanished.

Thankful to be back in the dark, Mira nodded to her handlers as if to say, "Lead on," and followed as they directed her away from the arena, down to the pens.

Her moment of fame was over.

Chapter 2

Not a word was exchanged between Mira and her handlers as they exited the arena and headed down through the lower levels toward the prison. Only the sound of their bootsteps on the smooth concrete broke the silence. Not that Mira had anything to say to the pair of humans who ushered her back and forth from the arena to her cell, but it would be nice if occasionally she was treated as something more than an unwanted creature whose usefulness had ended the moment she dealt her final blow in the arena.

The silence ended as they passed through a set of thick metal doors. The light beyond dimmed, but the echoes of agony through the corridors became intensely vivid. Deep within the underground, where no sunlight could reach, was where the vampires were kept. Dark and dank, scented with the foul odor of unwashed bodies, blood, and mold, this was the place Mira called home, the only place she'd known for the last thirty years. She was lucky to have lived that long. Countless other vampires had come and gone before her, and many more had been slain at the point of her own teeth. The gladiator's life was all she knew now. Occasionally there were vague remembrances of what life had been like before her capture, but almost her entire vampire existence had been down in these dirty cells.

Fed only with the blood of other unwanted vermin, the humans had practically starved Mira and her kind to the point of savagery. It not only served to keep her kind more eager to fight in the arena, but also reinforced the image of their savagery in the human population's mind.

Rounding one dark corridor and heading down another equally gloomy one, the trio traveled further into the murky underbelly of the arena. Mournful howls and agonizing screams grated on Mira's nerves as they passed by the Hall of Punishment. Vampires who failed in battle but had not been killed were made to suffer unthinkable tortures at the hands of their human owners. Mira had unfortunately seen the inside of that hall on more than one occasion. If vampires could scar, she'd be unrecognizably disfigured from her time within those walls. Her punishments, rather than for failure in battle, had been ordered as attempts to break her spirit. No one, neither her handlers nor her Owner, had any affection for Mira. Free-spirited, uncooperative, and cocky as she was, Mira had not broken. Not once. No matter what vile punishments they'd thrown at her. As long as she was imprisoned in Iron Gate, she had one thought and one thought only... freedom. She'd have it someday, no matter how long it took. But though she loathed the arena and the life she had to lead, she knew that staying alive was the only way to get that freedom she so desired. And to do that, she had to remain a winner in the arena. It was the only reason she was still alive, despite her many attempts at escape and even more episodes of bad behavior. She knew as long as she kept winning, and earning her Owner lots of prize money, she'd be safe from final death.

They passed through a large corridor of prison cells before finally reaching Mira's, a small six-by-eight-foot cage of silver-coated steel bars with an automatically locking doorway. Her door, marked number 8254-A, was locked via an electronic keypad. Mira casually glanced over, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, as they entered the ten-digit access code on the keypad. 753951...

The butt of a UV torch connected with the back of her head. A lightning fast jolt of pain had Mira hissing through gritted teeth.

"Eyes forward, slave," the female handler ordered.

Instinct more than anger drove Mira to turn on her handler. The fresh throbbing in her head mixed with frantic energy from her recent feed. Mira snarled, fangs bared, ready to strike, and advanced on the female handler.

Gone was the stony expression on the human woman's face. Fear widened her eyes. Realization. Complete understanding of what a vampire is capable of, especially a formidable arena gladiator who'd just fed...

"Stand down, vampire." The human woman tried to put authority into her voice, but her fear was clear, and Mira wasn't in the mood to take orders.

With little effort, Mira snapped apart the silver shackles and grabbed hold of her handler's neck. Ready to squeeze the human woman like a bug, Mira tightened her grip, choking off the handler's air supply as she forced her backwards onto the silver-coated cell bars.

Alarms sounded all around her. The other handler turned on his UV light and shined it in Mira's face. She closed her eyes against the sting but refused to let go. Fangs still bared, she bit blindly at her handler, enjoying the terrified screams, savoring the delicious tremors running through the human's weak body.

An army of heavy-footed steps flooded the corridor. More handlers were arriving. Mira had shaken up the hornets' nest this time. The taste of the handler's fresh blood would not be worth the punishment they'd deliver if she killed the human. Just as she was ready to release her prey, the entire cell block flooded with light. In a fraction of a second, Mira's skin felt as if it had gone up in flames. She, however, was not the only one to suffer. Other vampires peacefully lounging in their cells began to howl in pain as the dreadful light filled every inch of space.

Her whole body on fire, Mira released her prey and balled herself up, trying to hide in the small shadows created by those standing around her.

Something hard connected with Mira's head. She blacked out for the briefest of moments, which was all the humans needed to shove her into her cell and slam the door shut. Once secured, the lights went out and an eerie silence replaced the previous chaos.

"Try that again, you fucking leech, and we'll see you staked out in the morning sun," the male handler spat at her. He held tight to his compatriot, inspecting her Kevlar suit for any signs of damage.

Skin crispy, flaking off of her body, there wasn't an inch of Mira that didn't hurt; yet still she managed to laugh. "Come in here and say that, big man."

The male handler, having finished his once-over of his partner, turned his UV torch on Mira in response.

Already at the limits of what she could feel, Mira continued to laugh through the burning blast of light.

"She's fucking crazy," the female handler yelled over Mira's cackling laughter.

The male handler nodded stiffly and clicked off his torch. "What do you expect, she's a leech."

"Yeah, because humans are so sane," Mira retorted. Though she tried to sound cocky, she couldn't hide the edge of pain in her voice. There was not an inch of her body that was not raw and angry at that moment.

"Don't let her taunt you. File an incident report on that crazy leech, and she'll get what's coming to her." The voices trailed off.

Mira stared up at the ceiling. The coolness of the concrete floor was a small comfort to her searing skin. Her wounds were already beginning to heal, thanks to the blood she'd been able to drink in battle, but Mira knew that was the last she'd taste for a while. No doubt the handlers would report her to her Owner, and she'd be given some archaic punishment for her crimes. Even in their heyday, vampires had never been as cruel as the humans now were to them. Some deserved death, sure, but the rest just wanted to live their eternity in comfort and peace.

"Good job, Mira," George, a male vampire in the adjacent cell groaned. "Did we all need to suffer for your midnight snack?"

Mira huffed in frustration, at war with herself over what she'd just done. Part of her felt guilty for what the other vampires had endured because of her actions, but another part was not going to stand by idly while the humans attacked her for no reason. "You're just jealous because you don't have the balls to try it yourself."

"I'm not that stupid." George's dark bald head appeared at the bars. Though he sounded angry, none of it showed in his concerned expression. "This is a maximum security facility. There are cameras, monitors, sensors. Face it, honey, we're stuck in here until the day we die."

"Well, as I recall, you were the one doing the fucking last night. You were gone more than five hours." Her muscles protested every movement, but Mira slowly rolled over on to her stomach and gingerly pushed herself up to her knees. She was healing, but not quickly enough for her liking. "Is it true? Did you get a new Patron?"

"I know how to play the game." A cocky smile replaced the look of concern. George flashed her his perfectly white, perfectly sharp teeth. Tall, well-built, dark skinned-for a vampire – and that beautiful bald head human women seemed to just adore. That man knew his strengths; he was a handsome devil who flaunted it every chance he got, and it worked wonders. He hadn't been in the arena for well over a month, too busy with his ever-growing list of admirers. "Yep. Got myself a hot vein and a little free time. Which is more than most of us can hope for."

"Well, have fun being a human's play toy," she grumbled. Jealousy burned in Mira's gut. She may not have been a traditional beauty, but she was the best fighter in the place, and she'd never attracted a Patron. Fresh blood. Small comforts. The ability to leave your cell, even if it was only to service your Patron. Those were luxuries she'd never been afforded. George was a pretty face, he wasn't even that great a fighter, and somehow he had managed to get Patrons lining up around the building for a few moments of his service.

"Oh, I will. Beats the punishment you're about to endure."

Mira lifted her head just enough to see a pair of expensive heels walking down the way toward her cell. She knew the familiar clip-clop of her Owner's stilettos. _Damn._ She'd hoped it would be a little while longer before her Owner had gotten wind of Mira's disobedience.

Speaking of traditional beauties... her Owner, a former runway model and a pretty little princess in her own right, seethed with anger as she approached the cell. Mira didn't need to look up to know the deep hazel eyes of Olivia Preston were staring down at her through impossibly long and thick eyelashes. Her perfectly pink lip would be curled upward in a dangerous sneer. Olivia was the worst kind of Owner Mira could have landed: beautiful, spoiled, and self-important. "Stand up, slave. Show your master some respect!"

Respect. The woman didn't know the meaning of the word. Olivia Preston was well known for treating everyone — vampire and human alike — as if they were her things. Try as she might, Mira could hardly hold back her contempt for the pampered little princess. "The fact that I haven't attempted to rip your throat out is a show of respect all its own."

Unaffected by Mira's threat, Olivia continued to stare down the imprisoned vampire. "If you weren't such a damn good fighter, I'd have you put down like the dog you are."

"I should be so lucky."

Olivia wouldn't follow through with that threat; Mira knew that, though she could do many worse things. She wouldn't kill her prize fighter. The money Mira earned her for all the battles she'd won had paid for every piece of expensive clothing she wore, all the way down to her gaudy, gem-encrusted heels.

"I had come here to congratulate you on your win today..."

Mira waited in silence, refusing to look up at her Owner, who was impatiently tapping her heels on the concrete ground. She knew there was nothing at the end of that sentence that she really wanted to hear.

Olivia's foot came to rest. "...Instead, I get a report you attacked your handler."

"She threw the first punch." Mira laughed. "Too bad she couldn't back it up." She shouldn't have said it, but couldn't hold her tongue.

"This was meant to be your reward."

Mira had to look up this time to see just what her Owner was holding.

Clutched in her pale pink claws, was a small vial with red liquid inside.

Instinctively, Mira began to salivate. Blood. As much as she enjoyed disrespecting her Owner, this might not have been the best time to do it.

Recognition flashed in Olivia's hazel eyes. "Yes. Now I have your attention, don't I?

She dropped the small vial to the ground, where it shattered.

The sweet scent of that crimson liquid wafted up to Mira's nose. _Such a terrible waste._ It almost brought a tear to her eyes. If she hadn't already fed today, she'd probably have licked it off the floor, shards of glass and all. Other vampires in the area had caught wind of the smell too, and they whined and begged for a small taste.

Olivia sneered at Mira. "You need an attitude adjustment. You want to smart off and be disrespectful to me... you'll pay for it."

_Here it comes: the punishment._ There was nothing for her to say; she'd already said enough to piss off her Owner.

"Forty-eight hours in the lightbox. No blood after. Perhaps that will teach you a little respect." She turned on her heel and stormed away.

"Respect. Ha! I haven't learned it yet. And you haven't earned it," Mira shouted back to her Owner. She was already in for the worst punishment possible – might as well get in a final jab while she could.

"Damn, girl." George whistled. "Humans do love a tan, but you're going to be one crispy thing after forty-eight hours."

Mira had no reply. He spoke the truth. The lightbox was truly the worst kind of punishment a vampire could be given. Intermittent flashes of light just long enough to burn but not long enough to kill. It was with methods like this that the humans had enslaved her kind. One weakness was all they needed to exploit. Humans grossly outnumbered vampires, and with this one weakness, they had brought the vampire nation to its knees.

Chapter 3

Two days of pure hell inside that tiny metal box had fried more than Mira's skin. Anger boiled over inside her. At that moment she hated humans and everything about them. Worst of all, she hated the fact she had once been a human. To have anything in common with those savage inhumane beasts was an outrage. Weak and exhausted, Mira needed blood so badly she could barely walk, a fact that had her handlers noticeably on edge. A starving vampire could snap at any moment's time. Taking extra precautions, they used the thickest silver coated chains and cuffs possible. She'd also been fitted with a ball gag for the trek back to her cell. Even with the additional precautions, Mira could tell the female handler was nervous. There was no mistaking the tang of fear in the air. Still, though she was clearly still concerned about Mira's temperament, the female handler did not hold back her contempt as she roughly pulled Mira's lumbering and aching body towards the cell.

Just the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other was a laborious task. Every movement hurt, every muscle ached; her skin, burnt and raw, pulled and ripped with each movement. Wanting nothing more than a few moments of darkness and peace, Mira found the strength to lift her gaze long enough to watch the male handler's fingers nimbly tap the ten digit code into the lock pad. 95182... Before she could spy the last few numbers, her handler shifted his body in front, blocking her view. The pattern seemed simple enough that she might guess the next few numbers. When she was healthy enough, she'd try it. For now, she could barely hold herself upright. A rarity for her, Mira didn't even move as they undid her bonds. She welcomed their removal. One less pain in the sea of agony she was swimming in.

Like a sack of garbage, Mira was tossed down on the cold concrete floor. She hissed as her head came crashing down against the unyielding ground. Stars danced in her vision. They slammed the cell door shut behind her. The echo of the bars clanging together added to the sharpness of her aching head.

Every inch of Mira was raw and exposed. Her burned skin cracked and peeled. Nerves on edge, even the slightest flicker from the overhead lamp caused her to jump.

Damn them. Fucking humans.

"How was the tanning salon?" George taunted.

She was in no mood for his playful jabs, and feared opening her mouth because there was no telling what manner of verbal bile she might accidentally spew in his direction. Times like this, there was only one thing to soothe Mira's vicious spirit. She needed blood. Fast. Problem was, Mira couldn't remember if she'd stashed the last of her rations, or if she'd been too gluttonous the last time she'd been punished. Rations, even for her, a prize fighter, were few and far between. Every tiny drop was coveted, and occasionally, she overindulged. Mira hoped there would be something left over. Who knew when she'd be allowed to feed again? And in her current state, she was this close to losing all control.

"Seriously, girl, you all right?" All humor had left George's voice.

"Blood," Mira rasped, still trying to summon the energy to check her hiding spot, a small pocket she'd created inside her mattress sitting on the floor.

George's voice dropped to a whisper. "I got you, girl. Just give me a minute."

Not sure what he meant, Mira grunted, neither in agreement nor protest. Using all of her remaining energy, she rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, enjoying this brief moment of peace. In the cell next to hers, Mira heard George rumbling around in his cell.

"Had a little something stored up for a rainy day," he whispered, and Mira's mood lightened.

_George to the rescue_. As much as she was jealous of him for the easy lifestyle he had in comparison to hers, she was glad to count him as a friend. He had a good heart, offering to share his blood rations with her. That quality was extremely rare among the other vampires. Caged as they all were, most had reverted to animalistic creatures, embodying the savage image the humans wanted everyone to believe rather than remaining the once-proud vampires they had been. They'd just as easily kill you for the practice.

George tapped on the cell bars. Mira's eyes opened and she zeroed in on the small thing clutched in his hands.

"I'm going to roll it between the bars. You think you can grab it?"

Mira groaned in assent. She barely had the energy to keep her eyes open. Moving, rolling, anything involving actual muscles seemed almost impossible, but for blood, she'd have to try. She turned her head toward his cell and watched as he bent down low and released a small red vial. Salivating as if it were the last supper, she followed with her eyes as the small glass tube rolled toward her.

George stood and turned back to his mattress. "It's not much, but it will help."

With all her might, muscles screaming, she threw herself over, rolling on top of the vial as it came toward her. Not wanting any cameras to spot her with it, she rested her body over the small vial. Gingerly, she moved, every motion pulling away loose scales of burned flesh. The full-body pain was beyond measure, but still she pressed on, lifting her arm, moving her hand over the vial. Still hovering over it, she unscrewed the cap and palmed it her hand. The scent of it was intoxicating, even stale as it was. The moment the scent hit her nose, it was all she could think of. Pretending to have a coughing fit, Mira brought the vial to her lips. The first drop of old rat's blood hit her tongue. Thick and gelatinous as it was, it still tasted like heaven. Her parched throat burned for more, but after only a few mouthfuls the tiny vial was empty.

The effect was immediate: Her skin began to tingle, and wounds started to knit themselves together. Healing had always been a vampire's best gift. Given just a little blood, the renewal and repair happened within minutes. Raw, angry burns cooled and the pain slowly receded from her head. Looking more like her old self, but still not quite feeling it, Mira attempted very clumsily to stand. She was too wobbly to make it the first time, but at least her voice had returned.

"Thanks," she said earnestly to George. His act of kindness would not go unrewarded. She'd make sure of that somehow.

"I'm just glad to help a fellow vamp out. We got to stick together." George waved a dismissive hand and relaxed back onto his mattress. "You'd have done the same for me, girl."

"Probably."

"Oh, don't act all tough. I know you got my back." George's playful tone had returned now that it appeared everything was okay with Mira.

Testing her legs, Mira attempted again to stand, but her muscles had not yet regained their strength, and she collapsed back on the ground.

"Take it easy, girl." George propped himself up on his elbows and stared into Mira's cell. Their eyes met for a moment while Mira struggled to move. "You don't have to always be so tough."

"Weakness gets you killed." Mira pushed harder, and brought herself up on both legs. "And I'm not weak." She held tight to the silver-coated bars, using them for support. Even with the sting of the metal against her palms, she refused to let go and risk collapsing again.

"Your attitude is what's going to get you killed. Maybe you should try not to smart off to the handlers for a little? You know, there are rewards for good behavior."

"No."

"Somehow I knew you would say that." With an exasperated sigh, George flopped back onto his mattress.

"I can't change who I am any more than you can." Taking a moment to steady herself, she let go of the bars and took a slow but determined step toward her mattress.

"I know. I just hate seeing you go through all this time and time again because you give in to their taunting."

"I'd hardly call fighting back 'giving in,'" Mira snarled, appalled that George would even suggest that fighting for one's own self-respect was a bad thing. "Besides, I won't have to put up with any taunting for much longer."

"No. Not again, Mira." Fear sharpened George's tone. "No more plans. No more escape attempts. They're going to kill you the next time you get caught."

"I've got it all figured out this time." After a few successful baby steps, Mira felt confident she'd regained her strength and allowed herself to relax onto her mattress and rest.

"No. I'm not listening to you. You're going to get yourself killed."

"So. Be. It. I'm not a fucking animal, George. I'm a vampire. Remember what it was like to be free? To hunt? To enjoy the night? When was the last time you saw a full moon? Do you even remember?"

"Yeah, I remember, but in thirty years, I've never seen a vampire escape or earn their freedom, so you can forget about it." There was an odd finality in George's tone. Something Mira had never heard before. She decided to take the hint and drop the subject. She propped her head up on her pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

She'd been here for at least thirty years herself, though she couldn't be quite sure. Days and nights all blended together into one long blur of time. Freedom, though, and the smell of the fresh outdoors – those remained crystal clear in her memory. Sweet freedom. The simplicity and beauty of life before she'd been taken by the humans. Mira's heart yearned for just a small taste of that joy again.

George wasn't right. Just because no one had ever succeeded didn't mean she wouldn't find a way. She had to. Mira couldn't live the rest of her immortality locked here as a gladiator until the day she was killed in battle. She'd already lost so much; she would not give the humans the satisfaction of taking her life for entertainment purposes. She'd find a way, or die fighting for her freedom.

The pain, long since buried deep within her, resurfaced. Her last night of freedom had been the most painful. Memories came flooding back and tears rushed to Mira's eyes. She turned her face into the pillow so that no one would see.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not push away the memory. It played out moment by excruciating moment before her. A small cadre of vampires, Theo at the lead, had taken refuge in a rocky encampment outside the redwood forest, hoping to avoid the human patrol and wait out the day. The coast was still another evening's run, and if they hoped to flee the country, they'd have to make it to the Pacific Ocean.

Tears soaked through her pillow. That night had been the last time she had seen her lover alive. Theo. His deep green-brown eyes would haunt her dreams for the rest of eternity. Human soldiers invaded their campsite just before dawn. Theo had told her to run, but she refused to leave her lover's side. Together, they held the humans back as long as they could, allowing others to escape.

The humans had turned their torches on Mira. Blind and exhausted, she went down. Theo tried to come to her aid, but lost his head with a clean swipe of a soldier's sword. When her vision returned, she found her lover, lifeless, drenched in his own blood.

It was the beginning of the end for her. Frozen where she stood, she hadn't even seen the soldier who had come up behind her. A silver-lined hood stole her vision, and the next thing Mira knew, she was being delivered to a Social Reassignment Facility. Vampire prison.

No fresh air. No beautiful moonlight. No freedom.

For weeks after, she endured unspeakable torture. The humans knew there was a vampire refuge somewhere, and they knew Mira had been heading for it. It was the only reason she'd been kept alive. But she would never betray her kind.

Having proven her strength and ability to take abuse, Mira was sold into the slave trade to be used as a gladiator. That had become her lot in this life: fight until the day she died her true and final death.

Footsteps echoed in the distance. A fast, heavy pace. Men. Handlers, most likely, here to bring round two of torture, no doubt. Mira dreaded the next round of her penance, but resigned herself to it. Couldn't be any worse than the lightbox.

"Prisoner 8254-B, stand and make yourself ready," the short, clipped male voice announced.

Relief escaped from Mira's mouth in a loud sigh. Weak as she still felt, and knowing her face was flushed with emotional tears, Mira was never more glad to not have her number called.

She listened to the sound of the keypad as the handler entered in the code for George's cell. Interestingly, his code was only eight numbers, whereas hers was ten. Were all the cells coded with not only different numbers but different lengths of code as well? She'd have to pay closer attention each time a vampire was pulled from their cell. Good information for future reference. George might argue against it, but for all he'd done for her, she'd find a way to get him out too. It was the least she could do.

A soft click confirmed the correct code, and then the cell door opened. Mira glanced over to her friend. The tall, bald vampire held his hands out willingly, ready to accept his shackles. George was always such a good boy. His eyes flitted over to her. "Be a good girl while I'm gone," he whispered.

"No talking," the handler barked at him, and then turned in Mira's direction. "And you, don't look so cocky. We'll be back for you in a moment. You've earned yourself extra training."

In an effort to appease George, Mira bit her tongue rather than respond to the handler's taunting.

Training – that was a funny way to describe it. Just as many vampires died in the training hall as in the arena. "No rest for the wicked," Mira sighed. She wished she'd had a little more blood to help gain her strength back.

Chapter 4

Harsh fluorescent lights glared down from high rafters. Mira hit the dirt-covered ground with a groan. Still weak from her time in the lightbox, her already screaming muscles threatened to give out, but she had to keep going. The six-foot-five vampire charging her was not about to stop. The only true difference between an arena battle and training was the size of the crowd. Tegan didn't need a crowd to witness his victory. He'd had a chip on his shoulder since the last time she'd bested him, and given Mira's weakened state, she was the prime target for his vengeance.

With a growl of fury, Mira summoned the energy to roll away from the foot Tegan swung at her. Dust blew up in the air, stinging her eyes as she maneuvered to avoid another kick.

"Not so tough now, are you?" the large male vampire taunted.

Mira struggled to find her footing and keep away from his wild attacks. He was big and he was skilled, but he was also cocky. Many a formidable vampire had found their end through hubris, and Tegan was well on his way down that road. If Mira let him wear himself out, he'd eventually make a mistake, and that was when she needed to retaliate. Until that time, she'd have to duck and dodge as best she could, preserving what little energy she had for the right time to strike.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Tegan," Mira taunted, hoping to rile him further.

"Shut up." Tegan swung wildly at her with one of his boulder-like fists.

Either her plan was working, or Tegan really was that bad a fighter. She smirked at the angry vampire. "Why don't you try to make me? Or are you afraid I'll muss up that pretty face of yours and your Patron won't want you anymore?"

It had never mattered much to her before; but now, weak as she was, Mira felt as if she were the only vampire alive who had not garnered a Patron. Servicing anyone wasn't something she particularly wanted to do, but in her current enfeebled state, she could certainly use the perks. Especially the additional rations. Slow healing and weakness could be avoided if Mira could just have a few sips of the fresh stuff. Nothing worked better than hot blood straight from a willing vein.

Tegan played right into her hands, taking the bait and charging her like a stampeding bull. Mira rolled away and hopped up to her feet just in time to avoid him. Tegan, however, overbalanced himself in an effort to stop when he missed his mark. He skidded to a halt, windmilling his arms to stop himself just before toppling over.

"It's not a fight if you run away." Tegan tried lamely to goad Mira. But her record spoke for itself. She was a killer. And if she hadn't been so weak, Tegan would have been under her boot already, begging for his life.

"Just giving you a sporting chance. I'd hate for you to limp away a complete failure." Mira kept her cocky tone, though the exertion was taking its toll. To the untrained eye she might have been doing well, but Mira was far from fighting form. Her muscles, weak and sore, responded more slowly than normal. Mira hoped to get the great big brute to wear himself out sooner rather than later, before he caught on to her weakness. Instead of overexerting himself, however, Tegan seemed to be enjoying this little to and fro. Feeding off it. He smiled as he attempted to strike again. She ducked away from his swing, but was barely quick enough. Mira felt the wind break across her face in the wake of Tegan's fist. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. Her body was nearly spent.

Tegan sneered and lunged again, putting all of his preternatural speed into the assault. Mira wasn't quick enough this time, and the force of his body colliding with hers knocked the wind from her lungs. She hit the dirt again, with Tegan's massive body crushing her under his bulk. Bones cracked. Pain shot through her chest. Mira was sure she'd just broken a rib or two, maybe more. That was going to take forever to heal without blood.

Tegan looked down at her and smiled. His eyes held that cocky glint that said he had other plans for her now that he had her pinned. And Mira would be damned if she'd allow him to follow through with them. She did the only thing she could. Baring her teeth, she threw her head forward and sank them into the bare skin of his chest.

It was only a moment. Only long enough to taste the coppery sweetness of his fresh blood, but that was more than she'd hoped for. By the time Tegan was able to throw her off, the revitalizing effects of his blood were already invigorating her, healing some of the damage he'd done to her body.

Involuntarily, Mira let out a moan of pure unadulterated pleasure. She couldn't help herself. Despite the source, hot blood fresh from the vein was a true delicacy. Her entire being awakened with new vigor. A wicked smile spread across Mira's lips. She slowly opened her eyes and locked onto Tegan's. While hers were full of wild energy, his showed pure rage, and that was the icing on the cake. She was ready for a real fight now.

"Now, let's continue."

Tegan knew before she had even risen to her feet that he'd lost. But being male and a warrior in his own right, he wouldn't let a little thing like an undefeated warrior fed on fresh blood stop him. Tegan stood and squared himself, ready to fight again, but Mira caught the quiver in his lips.

She stood and slowly cracked her neck and popped her back, making a little more of a show of it than she needed to. The pain of her broken ribs faded. They would be healed in moments as if they had never been damaged. All thanks to fresh blood.

Tegan watched every move Mira made, but made no move of his own to initiate the next fight.

"Scared now?" Mira said wickedly.

"Of you? Never." Tegan could lie all he wanted; the truth was in his eyes.

"Liar." Following Tegan's body posture and movement, Mira calculated the best time and angle to strike. Other than a slight twitch of his muscles, Tegan was not budging from his spot. Probably too scared. She'd just have to make the first move herself. Putting all of her renewed energy into action, she began with a roundhouse kick. Tegan easily side-stepped, caught Mira's foot, and spun her backwards. Small and lithe as she was, Mira was able to use the momentum to roll back up on to her feet and spin around to face her opponent as gracefully as if she were a dancer. As soon as she faced Tegan, she squared herself again, ready for the next attack.

"This ain't the ballet, sweetheart," Tegan spat at her, but there was more fear than anything else in his voice.

"Oh, but I do so love to dance." Mira dropped and swiped Tegan's legs. The larger vampire caught himself before he fell. Taking advantage of her opponent's momentary weakness, Mira delivered a few bone-crunching blows to Tegan's ribs.

Tegan dropped to the ground clutching his chest, but managed to roll away before Mira could deliver a nasty kick.

"This ain't dirt crawlers either, Tegan. Is this what you do in the arena? No wonder your record stinks."

That got Tegan fired up. He pushed himself back up to his feet and ran at Mira in a blind rage. She easily dodged his bullish attack and spun around to make sure he couldn't catch her from behind.

Tegan came at her again. She recognized the tactic: He was trying to overwhelm her, but he'd exhaust his reserves well before she would. Dodging him again, she threw a wild punch aimed at his gut. It caught him in the side with little effect.

"At least I fight fair," Tegan shouted. "No stolen blood."

"All's fair in love and war. Don't be a brat about it because you didn't think of it yourself."

The two squared off again. Sneering at each other. Mira studied his body movements, watching for any clue as to his next move. She wanted to end this... quickly.

The muscles in his leg twitched. He was going to lunge at her again, soon. She prepared herself.

He was quick, but she was quicker. Tegan came hard and fast, but Mira stepped out of the way and caught him by the arm. They twirled together for a moment before she used the momentum to throw him down to the ground. Tegan landed with a thud, his head slamming heavily against the hard-packed dirt.

Before she came down on him, she cocked her leg back and delivered a crushing kick to his ribs. The satisfying sound of bones breaking told her she had more than hit the mark, but it was Tegan's groan of pain that made her smile. That cocky bastard needed a good lesson in manners. She mounted him, setting herself hard on his chest, pressing down on those freshly broken ribs.

"We're done here." Mira placed a hand on either side of his head, ready to snap his neck if he tried anything stupid... hoping he would try something stupid, actually. Not that snapping his neck would kill the annoying vampire, but it would certainly bring her some instant gratification.

Overhead a voice spoke through speakers. "Training is over. Gladiators, resume your spots and wait for your handlers to retrieve you."

"You got lucky...this time," Mira snorted at him.

Tegan spat at Mira. "At least I didn't cheat."

As much as Mira wanted to rise to the occasion, his taunting wasn't worth it. The handlers were coming, and any additional aggression while they were around was bound to earn her more time in the lightbox. She needed her energy, what little of it she could spare, to formulate and execute her next escape attempt.

Chapter 5

Two handlers came to retrieve Tegan, but only one had shown to escort Mira. Luck must have been on her side. She smirked at Tegan as he was cuffed silently and nudged toward the exit. Clearly the loser, his shoulders slumped as he lumbered slowly behind one handler while the other followed, holding his UV torch at the ready. As much as she hated him, the sight of Tegan being taken away in such a manner tugged at her heartstrings. No matter what, arrogant prick that he was, he was still a vampire, one of _her_ kind. Still a prisoner. And being treated this way was wrong.

When Tegan had finally disappeared, Mira looked around cautiously, secretly praying that her other handler would not show. Not that she was ever that lucky, but it would be nice.

"Where's your dance partner?" Mira knew she shouldn't have said it, but couldn't help herself. The fresh infusion of blood and a win in the training arena had her feeling quite cocky. And those handlers were big bullies as it was. Anything to get under their skin was a bonus for her.

"No funny business. Hold out your hands for cuffs," the handler snapped at her. She assumed it was her regular female handler, but the voice sounded strange. Mira had a sneaking suspicion that she had really shaken her previous handler up. That brought a new smile to her face.

This new handler was hiding her face behind a dark polycarbonate shield.

Humans really went to the extremes to prevent vampires from having any advantage. No eye contact – not that it would really matter if they did, the myth about vampires having mental capabilities and taking control of others thoughts was just that, a myth – but still, this human wasn't taking anything for granted. The oversized helmet with neck protection was, in Mira's opinion, a little overkill as well. Sure, she could go for the jugular, but unless she really intended to kill, there was no point. Blood loss was too quick at that artery. Of course, if she was intending to kill, flimsy plastic was not going to stop her. There were hundreds of ways to incapacitate a human without using her teeth. Problem was, as heavily guarded as the place was, it was generally not a smart idea to make trouble. Vampire strength or no, she was outnumbered. The only way out was through stealth, not bloodshed... no matter how tempting bloodshed was.

"Here!" Mira huffed and held out her arms, awaiting the cuffs.

A second handler appeared behind her and tossed the cuffs to the woman, who immediately clamped them around Mira's wrists. The initial sting of the silver made Mira groan. She hoped it hadn't been too loud. Showing weakness in front of the handlers was just inviting trouble, and she was already in enough trouble with them as it was.

"You're late," Mira said, hoping instead to cover the pain in her voice with taunting. "We were going to go to the party without you."

"Silence, slave." The pure hatred in the male handler's voice was unmistakable. His command was stern. She wished she could see his eyes. He could sound as mean as he wanted, but the truth, the fear, would show clearly in his eyes. Unfortunately, he too wore the dark shield hiding his features. "Let's get her back quickly," he said to his partner.

"Yeah. She's in a mood alright. And I don't feel like dealing with it," the female handler responded.

Mira felt the butt of a rifle jab into her back. "Move," the male handler ordered.

"Would it kill you to ask nicely?" Fresh blood and a win in the training arena had done wonders for her mood, but dealing with the handlers was quickly souring it.

"No talking," the male handler shouted.

"All right. All right. Sheesh. You people. So uptight."

"Shut up!" the male commanded again. He flashed his UV torch at the back of her neck.

Heat singed her skin. Ten times brighter than outdoor light, the UV torch's instant blast of pain took her breath away. Mira hadn't intended to, but as she flinched, shrinking back from the sting, she snapped her cuffs in two. She swung her free arm wide and hit the female handler so hard Mira knocked her to the ground.

The male had his torch at the ready, aimed right at Mira. "Don't move."

With the female handler down, and the hallway empty, it was now or never. She would have to be quick. Once an alarm was raised, it would be all over for her. But if she was fast enough, she might just make it to an exit. A full face blast from the UV torch was worth the risk. She lunged straight at the male handler, overtaking him. Itchy as his trigger finger was, he couldn't get a flash on her in time. She slammed him to the ground and then smashed his helmet a few times for good measure. He wouldn't be seriously hurt — those brain buckets were good for something — but when he did finally wake up, he'd have one hell of a headache. That was karma enough for her.

Secure in the knowledge that he was incapacitated and wouldn't be chasing her down anytime soon, Mira took off down the long dark corridor. Down one dark hallway and up another, Mira ran without knowing exactly where she was heading. Everything looked the same – no signs, no arrows to point in any specific direction. Every corridor had the identical stark walls, unmarked doors, and annoyingly bright fluorescent lights. Another way to deter escape. The entire place was set up like a giant maze. Was she heading toward the exit, or back around to where she had just come from? Still, hoping against all hope that she was heading in the right direction and not in circles, Mira continued on amid the blaring sirens and flashing red lights.

Round one turn and then another, Mira was beginning to feel hopelessly lost. She'd been escorted to the arena, training hall, and prison areas so many times she knew the routes by heart, but she was well out of bounds now.

Knowing she was short on time, Mira quickly rounded another corner and came face to face with a double set of guards.

Surprised and not as prepared as the handlers, they did not have their UV torches to hand. Mira had no problem incapacitating them and left them quietly on the ground, unconscious but still alive.

Before she had a chance to stand, the hair on the back of Mira's neck prickled. An uncomfortable weight of unseen eyes settled on her. Dread sank to the pit of her stomach. Busted...and so close to escaping. Someone else was there, watching her. She felt it, but what was more unsettling was the fact they had yet to announce themselves. Guards would shoot first and ask questions later. Someone lurking in the shadows... there was no telling what game they'd be playing.

Mira turned around and stood next to the guard she had just felled. It didn't take much for her to find the source of her unease. A pair of mossy green eyes scrutinized her from the opposite end of the hall.

Heart pounding, she stared back at the man attached to those quizzical eyes. Human, no doubt. But he didn't carry a weapon. Nor was there any fear in those green eyes of his. On the contrary, alone in a dark corridor, he stood his ground, lifting his head, and stared Mira down like an alpha from some long lost wolf pack.

The strangeness of his manner caught Mira by surprise. For a few moments too long, she stood dumbfounded, trying to process who he was and what her next move should be. His face seemed oddly familiar, though at the moment she couldn't place where she'd seen him before.

The strange man was tall and well built, but that really didn't matter much. Mira could take down vampires larger than she with no problem. But that wasn't the thing stopping her from making a move. Judging by the deep plum of his suit, he was a man of some power. Only the Elite – those in the ruling class – were ever permitted to wear such an audacious color. As desperate as Mira was at that moment, she needed to tread carefully. Being caught escaping — again — would earn her more time in the lightbox, but injuring an Elite could have her staked out in the middle of town square awaiting the dawn.

"Aren't you going to finish him?" the man asked, his tone calm, soothing, as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

"Why don't I finish you instead?" She hoped the warning in her voice would be enough to deter him, but still the man remained unfazed, like some stoic statue across the hallway. What was he playing at? And why was he just standing there, calmly, giving her every opportunity to strike? Did he really place so little value on his life?

"You could kill me, sure, but ask yourself how that is going to help your situation." Spoken like a true Elite. He had to be up to something.

She didn't like the smugness in tone, but felt at a loss as to how to continue. She could be on him in a fraction of a second. Crush his windpipe, and maybe buy herself a few more minutes to find the exit, but she was lost and had already wasted too much time. However, her inaction was almost certain to earn her some additional reprisal as well.

The corner of his lip quirked up. "I take it by your lack of response, that you've decided against harming me?"

_Damn him!_ He knew she couldn't take the risk. "For the moment, I guess." Mira did not let her own uncertainty leach out into her voice. She attempted to sound self-assured, as if she were the one in charge at that moment.

"Well." He let out a little sigh. "I'm pleased to hear that." The strange man smiled congenially. "But, we will have to sort out what to do with you. It appears you're out of bounds here."

"You gonna help me back to my cell?" She threw her contempt at him. _Bastard Elite!_ What did he know about boundaries?

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes."

"Of course it had. Too bad I was heading in the other direction." Mira casually flicked her hand toward the hallway to her left.

"Wonderful, seeing as that is the way back to the cell block."

He was toying with her, like a cat with a mouse, Mira was sure of it. Whatever he had planned was sure to end with her enduring more punishment time in the lightbox. Mira pursed her lips. She wanted more than anything to be rid of him, but at this point she'd dug herself in too deeply to back out. Punishment or no, she had to play his little game. The alternative — certain death — was not worth the risk.

"Relax. I was only joking with you." He held out his hands in mock surrender. "Please. I mean you no harm. But, in all seriousness, you know you can't leave. Not like this."

The way he delivered those last words piqued her interest. "Are you saying there is a better way to leave?"

Mira picked up the heavy footfall of a few more guards headed in her direction. The human must have heard them too, because for a brief moment he turned his attention to the hallway.

"Perhaps. But that all starts with how you manage the next few moments." The Elite closed the distance between them, stepping confidently toward her as if she were as harmless as a kitten.

Part of her wanted to kill him and move on, even if there was no chance of escape, but the truth was plain: Her hesitation had ruined all chances she might have had of getting away.

Mira's shoulders slumped. "Fine. What help can you be?"

His moss-green eyes met hers and for a moment Mira felt they were on even footing. "Let me take you back, myself. No weapons." There was a genuine kindness in the way he spoke that did not fit his species or station. He held up his hands as proof that he had nothing to harm her with. "Just walk calmly with me, and I will ensure no reprisal comes to you."

Utterly confused, Mira could no longer hold the anger in her voice. "Why would you do this for me?"

'Politician' was her first thought. How much publicity would he receive for single-handedly bringing in a vampire?

"Why didn't you kill those guards?" he responded with equal measure of curiosity.

She glanced down at the unconscious men and felt a twinge of sorrow. Their breathing was shallow but steady. They'd be out for at least a little longer, but when they woke, with heads pounding, they'd wish they were dead. "They got what was coming to them, but just because they're pricks doesn't mean they deserve death. They're just trained idiots doing their job."

One of the Elite's eyebrows quirked up. "Interesting," he chuckled. "They aren't always the smartest of the litter. But don't you need their blood? Don't you crave every last drop?"

"Of course I crave blood, like you do a hamburger or potato chips, but, like you, I do not need to gorge myself on them all day long. Only a little at a time is needed to satiate my hunger. Any more than that is gluttony." Mira hoped he caught her little jab at him. Those of the Elite were no strangers to indulging in whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it. They were the definition of gluttons. "The pint or two I need daily will not kill anyone."

Embarrassment flashed across the Elite's face for the briefest of moments before it vanished. "I guess I always assumed.... Never mind. Come. I hear the guards approaching. Allow me to escort you back, and we'll chat about all of this later."

He stepped forward cautiously and lifted his hand to grasp her by the arm.

Reflexively, Mira's lip curled into a sneer. She didn't want to trust this man — humans could never be trusted — but she had no other choice.

Allowing him to take hold of her arm, she gave the Elite a look of warning and a quick flash of her fangs.

Looking as if he was trying to remain unfazed by her feral growl, he held his head high and pierced her with his mossy green gaze. "Follow my lead."

"Fine," she managed to say, though she had many other choice words in mind.

A group of five handlers came to a sudden halt in front of the Elite. Masks covered their faces, so Mira couldn't see the expressions, but the surprise and shock was clear in their gasps.

"Regent," the lead guard called out, bowing his head immediately. "Are you okay?"

_Regent?_ That's where she'd seen him before. From her vantage point down in the arena, she'd never gotten a good look at his face, but she remembered seeing the man eating his steak at the last battle. He was as Elite as you could get in the Iron Gate. Second only to the Magistrate who ruled over all the human cities, he was top dog. Why the hell was he helping her? Now Mira's curiosity was really piqued.

"Thank you for the quick response, Handlers. But the situation is under control. I'm just having a little chat here with, I'm sorry, what was your name?"

No human ever asked her that before. Her handlers called her by her cell number; her master called her slave. The rest of the world called her gladiator. Why was this human, this Elite, pretending to be so nice to her? "Uh... Mira."

One of the Handlers grasped his UV torch and took a step toward the pair.

The Regent smiled congenially. "Thank you, Mira. Yes, I was having a little chat with her about conditions in the lower cell block." He tightened his grasp on her arm as he addressed the armed Handlers. The warmth of his large hand felt deliciously wrong on her cold skin.

"Sir, please step away from the vampire." The lead handler held his UV torch up at the ready. Behind him the other handlers had their weapons raised as well.

"Ease up, gentlemen. We're fine. But, if you'll escort us, I need to return Mira to her place now."

No one would dare to disobey an Elite. Grumbling behind their masks, they trained their UV torches on Mira, no doubt longing for the opportunity to blast her with them. The lead Handler looked down to his wrist and punched in a code on a thick electronic bracer, his com-link. "Central. We've found the missing gladiator. Returning her to the lower cell block now."

A few moments of static followed by another voice confirming what had been said. A second later the alarms silenced. Mira was never more thankful. Their shrill screams were extra annoying to her enhanced hearing.

The head guard waved them forward. "This way, sir." He led them down the corridor to the left.

The Regent, still grasping Mira's arm firmly, set the slow pace as they walked back to her cell.

All eyes were on them — human security and vampire alike — as they walked quietly through the cell block. Some vampires stood from their mattresses and gasped as Mira passed their cells, being handled by the Regent himself.

"Code, please," the Regent demanded as they reached Mira's cell.

The guard lifted his wrist and punched a few buttons on his com-link bracer, and then entered the ten digit code into the lock panel.

Mira noticed immediately that the tones had changed. She did not have to look down to know that the code was different. _Damn, they were quick!_ The cell doors opened and the Regent released Mira. For the first time in years, rather than being tossed, shoved, or thrown down, Mira casually walked into her own cell. The experience was quite novel.

"We will talk again very soon. Do you have a Patron?" The Elite's congenial tone continued to shock her, even more than the fact that he'd asked her Patron status. Again his curious moss-green eyes met hers without animosity. This man was a complete conundrum to her. And he wanted to see her again? Possibly be her Patron?

Taken aback, Mira stuttered, trying to find the words. "N...sorry... no, I don't."

"I will speak with your Owner." With that, the Elite turned and walked away.

The cell doors closed, but Mira remained standing where she was, dumbfounded.
Chapter 6

Time moved slowly for Mira. Running the events of the evening through her mind, she stared up at the ceiling as if it might somehow hold some answers for her. She should be dead. Or at the very least strung up in the Hall of Punishment awaiting her next torture. Instead, she had been allowed to return to her cell, unharmed and unpunished, with a potential offer of patronage. There had to be something else going on.

Soft bells chimed seven times, marking the hour. Morning. Not that it made any difference to Mira. Even if she could stand the sunlight, she was still a creature of the night. She should be sleeping. She needed sleep. There was no telling what the day would bring, and it was in her best interest to be rested and ready for action.

Mira tried to convince herself to relax. Tried to order her mind to clear. It almost worked, until she heard the creak of metal doors opening. Someone was coming, and not just any someone. Mira expected the worst when she heard her Owner's fast paced clip-clop echoing down the corridor. She'd rather deal with her handlers or go another round in the training arena with Tegan before dealing with Olivia.

"What the hell did you do this time?" Angry and demanding, Olivia's shrill call pierced the early morning silence.

Mira had too many questions running through her head at that point and no answers, or at least no good answer for herself or Olivia. She knew no matter what she said, it was bound to aggravate her already annoyed Owner anyway.

Before Mira could form a coherent sentence for her Owner, Olivia barked, "Talk. Now. I want to know everything that happened." Her foot tapped out an impatient rhythm on the concrete floor.

Mira didn't have to look up to know her Owner would be staring her down, hands on her hips, positively seething with anger. Not because she was upset that Mira had not answered her yet. That was simply Olivia's normal stance when dealing with Mira. Rather than stand on ceremony, she continued to lie on her mattress. "I tried to escape. I got caught. I'm awaiting punishment."

"Oh, and I wish I could give it. Trust me, you troublesome little leech. Do you know how much that escape attempt of yours cost me?"

Olivia's tone was dangerous, but Mira just couldn't help herself, now that she knew she was in the clear.

"You're good for it," Mira said, not bothering to hide her smile.

"Oh, I can afford it, but you'll be the one paying back the damages." Olivia's angry voice had suddenly turned wicked. She laughed, and that piqued Mira's interest.

She sat up and looked at her Owner. "The usual pound of flesh I assume? Can we postpone the tanning salon until after my nap? I'm a bit tired at the moment." She knew she shouldn't have said it, but she just couldn't help herself. She loved getting a rise out of her Owner – or any human, for that matter.

"You think you're untouchable, don't you? That's all about to change. You'll learn a new meaning of the word 'touched' soon enough. Well, after you're prepped, of course."

Prepped?

Olivia sounded as if she were truly enjoying this new devious plan of torture. Mira chanced a glance up to her Owner's face. A smile, twisted and cruel, met her, and the glint in Olivia's hazel eyes said that Mira was in for a whole new world of trouble she'd yet to encounter.

"You got yourself a Patron, dearie."

Olivia must have mistaken her gasp as a sign of fright because she cackled loud enough to wake George in the cell next to her.

_He really followed through?_ Fear was the farthest thing from her mind. She'd service anyone she had to in order to get a little comfort at this point. No, shock had stolen her ability to express anything at that moment. Mira couldn't believe the Elite had actually followed through. There had to be something she was missing, some angle, some reason. Humans never did anything nice... not without an ulterior motive.

"And a rich one at that. So, you had better be on your best behavior and do whatever he wants. And I do mean anything that he wants, whatever, wherever, and however. Do you hear me?"

Mira heard her all right, and more than that, she heard the dollar signs in her Owner's voice. "He's called for you to meet him later tonight, so I need to have you prepped and ready." That brought another wicked smile to her Owner's face.

Mira wasn't sure what being prepped entailed, but it couldn't be any worse than the lightbox. "Bring on your worst."

"I was hoping you'd say that."
Chapter 7

Escorted by her two handlers, with Olivia leading the way, Mira was ushered to a place referred to affectionately by George as the 'spa.'

The inside of the spa was a place Mira had never before earned the privilege of seeing. She'd expected it to look lavish. George had made it sound positively magical, but other than the strange stations with equipment she couldn't imagine the uses for, the place was just as dreary as the rest of the prison. Flat gray walls, black and white tile floors, and thick steel doors at the entrance and exit. Curiously, there was one door — more like a window — in the back corner of the room that was not steel like the rest. It was made of a thick pane of glass and led into a small room completely covered in tile, just big enough for a single person to stand in.

She'd never seen such an odd space.

The butt of a UV torch hit her in the back. "Move," the handler ordered.

A woman dressed in a skin-tight black full body suit sauntered up to Olivia. She looked down at her clipboard and ran a long red manicured fingernail down the page. "You're the works, right?"

Olivia smirked at Mira before answering. "I want her showered, plucked, shaved, trimmed, and for the love of god, do something with those nails. She has a wealthy Patron to impress."

"You heard the client. Get this leech ready to be presented to her Patron." She snapped her fingers, and two other humans, females in matching black body suits, appeared seemingly out of thin air and rushed forward.

A shiver of fear raced down Mira's spine. Torture she could endure, even if that meant more time in the lightbox, but this "works" treatment her Owner had ordered — waxing, plucking, nails, and whatever else it entailed — scared the hell out of her.

Without another word, her dirty tunic was ripped from her body and tossed aside like the garbage it was.

Mira had to fight the instinct to lash out at the trio of women stripping her down and scrutinizing her naked body. She'd love to wipe their smug expressions right off their pretty little faces. Perhaps rip out their tightly braided ponytails and strangle them; but she knew she'd never get away with it. She'd just have to ignore their taunts and whispered comments about her filthy condition.

Once the trio was done inspecting her, they ushered her toward the strange tile room. "We'll have her washed and ready by seven this evening," Mira heard one say as the glass door opened and she was pushed inside.

A low clicking sound ran up the walls seconds before the jets began. Hot water and steam assaulted her from every angle. The initial shock and hot sting subsided and Mira relaxed, letting the water wash away the grime. Showers were a luxury only afforded to vampires with additional funding, something she'd never earned. Until now, bathing for her had consisted of a lukewarm bucket of water and a rag.

Another set of clicks ran up the wall behind the tiles and the spray turned soapy. It foamed on her skin, carrying a subtle hint of orange blossom and citrus, a smell that reminded her of the orange groves that had grown near her home as a human. The foam seemed to expand on her skin, growing as it if it were feeding on the dirt clinging to her body. The sensation was shocking and intriguing at the same time. She could see why George enjoyed coming to this place. They might have been rude, but this shower alone made up for it. Never before had she felt so pampered.

Another click, and the deliciously hot water returned and melted away the foamy bubbles encasing her body. The water not only took with it the dirt and grime, but melted away some of the stress and tension in her body. Try as she might, it was hard to remain alert and on edge while the heat and pressure of the water worked its magic on her muscles.

When the shower finished, hot air filled the chamber, blowing like a cyclone in the small room. Shocking and sudden, it startled Mira, but just like with the water, the heat of the wind had a soothing effect that made it hard for her to remain on edge. She took a breath and let the warm air do its thing and dry the beads of water from her body.

Just when she thought she was finished in the shower, one final jet gently spritzed some kind of citrus-scented oil on her.

The clicks behind the tile stopped, and the glass door opened by itself. Mira turned and stepped out of the box, making no attempt to cover herself, and awaited her next instruction.

A wicked smile played in her Owner's sharp features. "Well, now, at least you don't stink. But you're far from ready to present to your Patron." She turned to the trio of women. "I'll be back at seven to retrieve her." Not waiting for confirmation, she and the two handlers walked out through the steel doors.

The shower had been quite refreshing, Mira thought. She hoped the rest of these treatments would be just as pleasant. George had spoken highly of this place. Perhaps it was not as bad as she feared.

"What's next?" Mira asked.

One of the trio of women held up a jar of melted wax. "Hair removal."

The unusually eager way she said it stole away Mira's feelings of relaxation and contentment. This, she knew, would not be as nice as the shower had been.

Hours later, plucked, tweezed, waxed, and threaded, Mira had endured the removal of every hair on her body. What hair remained, on top of her head, had been washed, cut, and styled so that her short hair framed around her face. Rather than the tunic and linen pants she was accustomed to wearing, Mira had been given a proper dress. Knee-length, the black and pink sheath dress felt unbelievably soft. Nothing like what she was used to wearing. They'd even given her shoes to wear. Those, however, were not as comfortable as her sandals had been. Tight and toe-pinching, these shoes had heels that made her feel as if she was walking on stilts. If you could call what she was doing 'walking' – more like trying hard not to fall with each wobbly step she took.

By the time Olivia returned to retrieve her, Mira was almost unrecognizable.

"That'll do," Olivia said, with no hint as to whether or not she actually approved. "Let's get you moving."

Chapter 8

Up an unfamiliar flight of stairs, Mira, her Owner, and the two handlers exited into a brightly lit lobby. Unlike other places Mira had been before, this place radiated an almost cheerful nature. Warm and inviting compared to the drab gray of the prisons, Mira felt as if she had entered a whole new world. Colors she'd forgotten existed were splashed all over paintings adorning the russet-colored walls. Crisp white trim framed the doorways. Comfortable-looking wingback chairs flanked a set of elevator doors that had been polished to a mirror-like finish.

As if to remind Mira of her place, one of the handlers nudged her a little too harshly with the butt of his UV torch. "Quit gawking. Move."

Olivia took the lead, heading straight to the polished steel elevator doors. She pressed the button, which illuminated to a bright orangey-red. "Your Patron keeps you in luxury. Remember this. If you so much as annoy him in any way, I'll send you to the lightbox for a week."

"Got it," Mira said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She knew what she had to do and didn't need the reminder. She would do whatever was needed to keep herself alive and hopefully give herself another chance to make an escape. Even as they entered the elevator and exited on the top floor, Mira was paying close attention to every detail, looking for ways out, making sure she remembered exactly how they got to and from all of the new places she'd seen this day.

The hallway they entered was just as warm and inviting as the lobby they'd left. At the end of the hall sat a large mirror. Mira had not yet seen herself after she'd been cleaned. In truth, it had been years since Mira had seen a real reflection. She'd seen images of herself on the big screen in the arena, covered in blood and gore, but nothing like this, a close up, clear look at herself. She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her. Her face, her eyes, her hair – everything was so alien. What was most disturbing though was that in this light, she almost looked human. All the makeup they'd slathered on her covered up the pale skin and the bruised-looking bags under her eyes. Even her hair seemed to have an unnatural glow to its raven color. She supposed that was to make her more presentable to humans, but it made her feel a little like a clown.

The handlers escorted her to the doorway of her Patron's suite.

Olivia gave Mira a quick once over, nodding approvingly, before pressing the doorbell.

When the doors parted, Mira met the muted green eyes of the man who'd thwarted her escape attempt the previous day. The Regent. The most powerful man in the city. And her new Patron. The irony of it almost made her laugh.

"Leave her with me." His voice was confident, his smile seductive. The little quirk up at the corner of his lips gave his entire face an impish quality. He might be an attractive man, if Mira were attracted to humans. But that was a moot point. He was her Patron, and she'd have to do whatever it was he wanted of her, attraction or no.

"She's a skilled warrior, sir," one of the handlers replied. "Quite dangerous."

"She knows what's good for her. This little treat will not harm me," her Patron replied.

Mira sneered at the way he called her a treat. Like she was some little plaything, no more real than a doll. Of course, that was probably closer to the truth now than anything else, dressed up as she was. She'd been giftwrapped for him like some present for New Year Jubilee.

"I'll leave my guards at your door. Call if you need anything," Olivia replied and bowed low, respectfully, to her Regent.

"You'll hear from me when I need you." He reached out, grasping Mira by the arm in the same way he'd done the previous day, and pulled her into his room.

The automatic door shut behind her with a soft click.

The Regent released her and walked further into the suite. "Come. Mira, right?"

He damn well knew her name, why was he playing?

"Sit, relax. Please." He indicated to a plush couch in the center of the room. "Would you care for refreshment?"

"What is your game?" Mira had no patience for pleasantries.

"I thought we could continue our chat from yesterday, with a little more privacy." The Regent unbuttoned the jacket of his purple suit and laid it carefully on the arm of the couch.

The thought of what was sure to come curled Mira's lips. She tried to hide it, remembering what her Owner had warned, but couldn't quite cloak the contempt in her voice. "Why? What do you want from me? Why are you playing nice?"

"Easy now, Mira." He held his hands out as if to emphasize the calm in his voice. "I want nothing from you but a chat. You're a curiosity. I want to know more about you."

"Why, so you can exploit me and my kind later?"

"So I can understand." Impatience began to overtake his congenial tone.

"Understand what?"

"To get right to the point, then: I want to know how a blood savage can show so much humanity."

"Humanity?" Mira laughed at the word. "Humans are the savages. Look at how you treat my kind."

"Kill or be killed, Mira. Survival..."

Forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to keep her Patron happy, Mira yelled, "Don't feed me that bullshit." Almost shaking with rage, she stopped herself from advancing on him and doing something she might regret. "My kind are no more murderous than yours, and yet we're the ones behind bars, tortured, forced to perform like dancing monkeys. Forced to kill our own kind... at your command!"

Seemingly unfazed by her emotional outburst, he responded, "You drink blood..."

"Yes. Because that's the only thing we can stomach. What's your excuse for spilling so much?"

"We're getting off on the wrong foot here. Let's calm down." He set himself down smoothly onto the end of the couch. "This is exactly why I wanted you here. I feel as if I may be misinformed about many things, especially your... species. I would like the opportunity to know more. To understand. Please..." He patted the spot next to him. "Enlighten me."

Wary of what his true motives were, Mira had no choice but to indulge his questions. She had to play the game, as George had so often told her. Walking to the couch to take her seat, Mira glanced around, noting all of the windows and doors in the room. What few there were. The suite itself, though opulent, was cozy. The sitting room appeared to make up the bulk of it. A small door off to her left must have been the bedroom area, as she saw no other door except for the one through which she'd entered.

A smallish curtained window sat above a computer-generated fireplace. Hardly big enough to afford a decent view, it didn't appear to open, either. Certainly not big enough to use for any type of escape. Even if it had been, they were ten floors up. A jump from that height would most certainly result in broken bones, and she wasn't so sure she'd be able to heal fast enough to make a break for it. The place was probably swarming with guards and handlers too. Hope of escape from this room was slim to none.

"Fine. What do I call you? Patron, Regent, Grand High Poobah, what?" She set herself heavily down on the couch and almost sprang back up from the bounciness of the cushion.

"Where are my manners? Lucian Stavros." He stood and bowed. Mira found such a show of respect odd. She still questioned his motives, but at least he was playing his part well enough to be almost believable.

"Do you need anything for refreshment?" His voice was hesitant.

"You already know the answer to that. No. I'm fine."

"The suite is fully stocked for all needs." His confidence wavered enough for Mira to catch the worried look in his green eyes. I am quite sure there is a supply of... blood for you here."

"No. I'm fine. Let's just get this over with."

Lucian took his seat and smoothed out his purple suit pants. He took a deep, almost calming breath before speaking. "I do not wish to use you, Mira. I know you don't believe me. Can we please just talk?"

Whether he admitted it or not, he was using her. Information, sex, whatever his pleasure, his only reason for having her here was to serve his needs. No matter how politely he was doing it. Mira was not about to forget that. She'd give him only what she had to and nothing more.

"Whatever you need of me, sir." Mira's reply was cold, emotionless.

He smiled politely. "Well, let's start simply with your history. Tell me. How long have you been in the system?"

"Longer than I care to remember."

"And have you been a gladiator the entire time?"

"Yes."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"No." What kind of a question was that? How could she take any pleasure from having to fight and kill her kind? Humans were either truly savage or clueless.

"Of course not. How rude of me to ask. Were you ever offered any other jobs?"

"I was not suited to anything else."

"Why not? You're a vampire, certainly strong enough to work other jobs."

"My attitude says otherwise."

"I'm beginning to understand that."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're not being very cooperative or pleasant."

"Why should I be? I'm a slave. I'm being used every day to serve the desires of humans. Even now, you're only interested in what information I can provide. Call it what you will. Put your positive spin on it, but all you're doing is using me to indulge your morbid curiosity. Don't expect me to be all cheerful about it."

"I may be curious, yes, but have you considered that the information you provide might actually help you? I'm in a position to not only make your life better, but also the lives of your kind too. I am the Regent."

She hated that he had a very good point, but also doubted he would actually do anything to aid in the better treatment of her kind. Mira reminded herself again that he was her Patron. She really shouldn't piss him off. "Apologies, Regent. Please ask your questions."

He didn't look convinced by her change of tone, but continued. "Okay. What did you do before you... ah... came to us?"

Like she was going to tell him that. Now she understood his true motivation. He wanted, like others before him, to know about the safe haven.

"I lived."

"And how long have you been a vampire?"

"Longer than I can remember."

He sighed in frustration and stood. "This works better when you actually participate in the conversation."

"See, that's the problem. Other than to save my own skin by not pissing you off too much, Patron, I don't have a reason to do that."

"You don't trust me?"

"Why should I? You're human."

"I'm trying... That's why I offered to be your Patron. It is a show of good faith to you that I intend to keep my word. You are safe here with me, under my care."

"You live in this opulence, while I sleep on a cold hard mattress with barely a scrap of cloth to cover me. You eat steaks and watch my kind kill each other for sport, while I spend my days fighting for survival. You order the death of my kind on a whim and allow all manner of atrocities to be done to us. You cannot ask me to trust you simply because you paid for me to have a shower and some clean clothes to wear."

"I see. I think we are done for now." He looked down to the com-link around his wrist and pressed a button. "You may return her now."

He looked back to Mira. "It's a two-way street, Mira. At least I am making some effort. Think on that when you return to your cell."

The door behind them opened and the two handlers stepped through. They scowled at Mira and one of them grunted, "Get up."

She stood without a second look back at Lucian and walked to the door.

Chapter 9

The cell door shut behind her. She was back home in the tiny prison smelling of dirt and mold, filled with the agonizing cries of tortured souls. Coming from the opulent suite she'd just been escorted out of, it was a harsh reminder of who she was and how tiny and insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Mira wiped the lipstick from her mouth and collapsed onto her mattress. She knew she shouldn't have pissed Lucian off. Why couldn't she have hidden her hatred of him and his kind? Was her pride really worth this? She could have just given him some of the information he wanted to keep him happy. Would it really have been so bad to play along? She could have glossed over the important stuff. Told him whatever bullshit he wanted to hear, and enjoyed a few moments of luxury. She could have benefited from extra blood; healed, built up strength, renewed energy to escape. No. She just had to let her anger and her ego get the better of her. Screw everything up.

"You okay, girl?" George asked. He appeared at the bars with a hopeful smile. "You weren't gone very long."

"I don't want to talk about it." Mira rolled away from her friend. Even if she had wanted to talk to someone, how could she possibly explain how horribly she'd failed?

"The first time is always the worst. It gets easier. He didn't try to hurt you, did he?"

As if he could actually hurt her. Mira was a champion gladiator. No. The only thing that was about to hurt her was herself. She'd probably lost her first and only Patron ever. "Go away, George. I said I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't always have to be the tough girl. None of us like this sort of thing, but we do it to save our skin."

"I will find a way out of here." She said it more to herself than to George.

"Yeah. I'm sure you will. But for now, try and make the best of it. Whenever my Patron calls, I try to imagine I'm laying with a hot Island girl. Caramel skin, long dark hair, mmmmmm. You might try it. Next time he calls, just imagine me."

Despite her self-loathing, Mira let out a small chuckle. "Thanks, I'll do that."

"If it's any consolation. I heard you're not going back into the arena this weekend."

"What?" Mira shot up from the mattress. "Why not?"

"Don't sound all eager to get into a fight now."

"I'm not, it's just... I've never had a weekend without a fight."

"A Patron is good for some things."

Had Lucian really stopped her from fighting? Was it something she'd said? He may have called her a curiosity, but she was the one completely perplexed by him. Why, of all people, would an Elite attempt to keep her safe? It just didn't make any sense.

Chapter 10

Mira stood outside of her Patron's door awaiting his answer. He'd called her up in the middle of the day. She'd barely had time to comprehend what was happening before she was yanked out of her cell and thrown into the hot steam shower. As much as she enjoyed that new luxury, she'd have liked it to be after she'd had a chance to fully wake up.

"Stand clear," the handler shouted at her, and roughly gripped her shoulder in an attempt to pull her backwards. The lock clicked softly and Lucian's door slid open.

Her Patron stood on the other side, plum collared shirt unbuttoned down the front and black silk trousers belted at the waist. Despite her aversion to humans for the way they treated her kind, Mira couldn't help but appreciate the bit of washboard stomach she could see. Lucian might have been Elite, but he was no fatted pig like so many others.

"Good day, Mira," he addressed her directly.

She nodded but said nothing.

Lucian turned to the handlers. "I'll take it from here."

With a grunt of agreement, the handler relaxed his grip. Mira shrugged away from him and stepped inside her Patron's suite.

Before the door had a chance to fully close behind her, Mira blurted out, "Did you have me pulled from this weekend's match?"

Shock at her outrage had clearly stolen Lucian's voice. Mira watched the confusion play across his furrowed brow.

"Yes, I did. Why?"

Mira took a breath, trying to calm the anger in her voice. She had already started off on the wrong foot with him. She was lucky he still wanted to be her Patron. "Why are you interfering with my life?"

"Sorry, I thought you abhorred killing. I was trying to do you a favor."

"You want to do me favors, get me the hell out of this place."

"Watch your tone, please."

"Why? Or you'll have the handlers put me in the lightbox?"

"No. But the walls are not thick enough to conceal raised voices. Do you really want to alert the handlers to our conversations?"

He was right and Mira knew it. She let out a deep sigh. "Sorry."

"And what is a lightbox, anyway?"

"Torture." She blurted the word out. There was no way he could be that clueless, could he?

"I'm not aware of any torture. I understand there are... reprisals for infractions committed by the... vampires kept below."

If she hadn't been so enraged by his response she might have laughed at the business-like way he said it. "And what exactly do you think these 'reprisals' are?"

He stood silently for a moment, his brow creasing and relaxing. Mira could almost see the wheels turning inside his head. He really didn't know what was going on.

"Reduced rations, I assume. Perhaps lack of social time." Lucian was grasping at some kind of intelligent answer, but Mira knew better.

It was all she could do not to burst out into maniacal laughing. "What the hell is social time? Do you mean training? Otherwise known as the mini-arena? Do you know how many of my kind die during these... reprisals?"

His cheeks flushed a delicious shade of crimson. It was hard for Mira not to stare, nor to begin to salivate at the sudden jump of his heart rhythm.

"I was unaware." Lucian tried to compose himself, but his heart betrayed his embarrassment.

"Yeah, it sounds like there is a lot you're unaware of. And you're a Regent?"

"I'll thank you not to poke fun. My station demands a little respect." There it was, the authority. There was no mistaking that arrogance and self-important tone.

Mira stood stiffly at attention and wiped all emotion from her face. "Yes, sir."

His composure wavered. Lucian threw his hands in the air and almost growled in frustration. "You know, I have done nothing but try and be helpful, and you throw nothing but scorn and mockery at me."

"Permission to speak freely, Regent?"

"You see? This behavior. If I were any other man, you'd have lost yourself a Patron. But I am not just any other man, and I am trying to show you exactly that. Despite your numerous attempts at trying my patience. Yes, Mira. Speak freely, dammit!"

She'd overstepped and she knew it, but the damage had already been done. Mira softened her tone a bit. "Perhaps instead of trying to help me in ways you feel are best, maybe you should try asking what is needed."

"I did try asking, last time you were here. But, as I recall, someone was very uncooperative."

"Can't be helped. You can't be trusted."

"And we're back to this again. What if I told you I was working on a way to get you out of here?"

Mira's eyebrow quirked up, but she tried to hold the rest of her face still. "Why?"

Why indeed? Was he hoping to catch her off guard? Let her run and take him straight to where the vampire safe haven was? Yes. That had to be his plan.

"Tell me about life in the arena." He walked to the couch and sat. Without looking back at her, he picked up a glass from the side table next to him, took a sip, and then set it down. He seemed to be moving slowly, purposefully, as if to ensure there was enough time to let the weight of his words sink in. "Let's forget our mistrust for now and just enlighten me on what it's like to live your life here."

She did not move from her spot. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making her come over to him and spill her secrets. Mira couldn't figure him out. If he was truly clueless and willing to help, she couldn't be sure, but she saw no harm in telling him what went on in the arena and the pits — and especially in training — leaving no gory detail undescribed. She made sure to spend extra time on the lightbox, the starvation, the painful punishments–like having their fingernails and toenails removed when they had lost fights but had not been condemned to death. When she was through and satisfied she had shocked and horrified Lucian enough, she smiled and innocently said, "Have you heard enough?"

Lucian turned from his spot on the couch, his hand covering the horror of his expression. "Mira, I didn't know."

"What did you know?" Mira scoffed. "Or did you even care?"

Lucian stood and came to Mira, taking her hands in his, a small gesture, but one that added an infinite amount of confusion to Mira's anger.

"I know it is not an excuse," Lucian said with sincerity, "but I grew up with this – the arena, the games – as entertainment. I never actually gave thought to what happened behind the scenes."

Mira threw down his hands and took a step back from Lucian. "But you were okay with us killing each other in the public eye?"

"Again... not an excuse. But I was raised to believe you were all savage creatures. It's not the same."

"Bullshit!"

To Mira's surprise, he let her foul language slide. If she'd said that to anyone else, Mira would have surely gotten a blast from a UV torch, or a slap across the mouth at the very least. Even more surprising, Lucian appeared to nod agreeably. "I know. And I'm not defending myself or the people who raised and educated me."

"So what changed your mind?"

"I'm not entirely sure my mind is changed, but you..."

"What about me?"

"You're... not... what I expected."

Mira wasn't quite sure how to respond to that.

"You could have easily killed those guards. You could have killed me."

"Yes, I could. And I'm still considering it."

Lucian sucked in a breath, but his expression remained calm, flat, as if her words had not shaken him.

"But I don't kill unless I have to." And she wouldn't have wished that death sentence on herself. Getting caught killing a human of any class was a one-way ticket to a flaming death. Not that Lucian wouldn't already know that, but at this point, her motives would still appear pure.

"I see that. And hope you'll not have to anytime soon." He smiled congenially, but Mira could see the discomfort behind his eyes. "That is why I had you removed from fighting duties."

"You can't keep me from the arena."

"You really want to go back there?"

"People will ask questions if I don't fight. I've got a reputation. And so do you! What do you think people will say when the Regent's favorite suddenly stops fighting in the arena?"

The corner of his lip quirked up. "Smart and politically minded. You are so full of surprises."

"As are you." She still couldn't figure him out. Part of her, a very small part, wanted to trust him; he seemed so sincere. But he was a Regent, an Elite. A human. They could never be trusted. He had to have some ulterior motive.

"Fine. I will not interfere with your arena schedule, but if we are to help one another, I'll need you to be a good girl and play nice."

The way he said "good girl" had her hackles up, but she tried to tell herself it was meant in a playful way. "What is it exactly that you want from me?" She hoped for a straight answer, but doubted seriously she'd get one.

"My interest in you is genuine. You perplex me. I want to know the truth about your kind. For my own personal understanding. Nothing more. Nothing less."

The com-link bracer round Lucian's wrist buzzed, and a mechanically enhanced male voice said, "Regent, sorry to bother you, but I've just spoken to Magistrate Mathias Robertson, and he is on his way to personally inspect the new facility. He's coming by train this evening."

All the color faded from Lucian's face. He pressed a button on his bracer, took a deep breath, and said, "Thank you, Murphy. Send his itinerary to my assistant. I'll greet him personally at the platform."

"I take it this is not a good visit?" Mira asked, not caring if the person on the com-link heard or not.

Lucian took another deep breath and shook his head. "We're going to have to cut this visit short."

Something had him seriously spooked, and from the sound of it, this new facility, whatever it was, was probably the cause. "What, no foreplay?"

That seemed to get a smile from him. Worried or not, he was still a man. Mention, or even just insinuate, sex and you had their full attention.

"Sorry, no. I know most patrons require special services, but that was not why I sponsored you. I do genuinely want to get to know you and learn the truth about your kind, and I hope you'll understand this sooner rather than later."

He did it again, saying things that made Mira want to trust him. "Well, then, I'll see myself out." She turned and headed for the door.

"Nice try. You know there are at least two guards posted to the other side of that door. You wouldn't make it ten steps."

"Can't blame a girl for trying. And for the record... I'd have at least made it to the lifts."

"I'm not a betting man, but I'd take that action." He smiled. Mira couldn't help but smile too. For a human, he really was attractive, and seemingly good-natured. He reminded her of Theo in that way. He'd had a disarming smile and infectious laugh once upon a time ago. "Let me cuff you and we'll send you off with your escort."

"Such a gentleman."

"I do try." He placed the silver cuffs around Mira's wrists and watched her curiously when she winced. "Do they hurt?"

"A little, but it's no real bother."

"You don't always have to act tough."

"Yes... I do!" She pressed the button on the side of the door to open it and found two guards armed with UV torches and semi-automatic rifles. "Hello, boys... ready to take me home?"

Chapter 11

The cell door closed behind Mira with its usual clang followed by the mechanical clicking of the lock, but for once, Mira wasn't analyzing the sounds for clues on how to break free. Still a prisoner, still stuck in hell, but somehow at that moment, she was okay with it. Maybe she could trust Lucian. She didn't want to get her hopes up, but Lucian had mentioned getting her out. If he intended to help even in the slightest way, she might finally taste that freedom she so desperately desired. But the realist in her threw a wet blanket on those burgeoning hopes. Humans could not be trusted, a fact Mira had had beaten into her on more than one occasion. Nice words and some small comforts shouldn't turn her head so quickly. She needed to be smarter than that.

Mira stood idly in the center of her cell. To anyone looking, she might have been sleeping on her feet, but inside, she was silently warring with herself over how to feel.

"How did it go this time?" George asked?

"Why are you so nosy?" She hadn't meant it to come out so nasty, but he'd shaken her so abruptly from her thoughts she hardly recognized it was George and not one of the handlers.

"Mira, be nice." Unfazed by the hostility in Mira's voice, George had not lost his congenial tone.

"Sorry. Just... I don't know about this guy." She scooted close to the bars, wrapping her fingers around them, using the sting of the silver to ground her in reality. "He's not interested in me... in that way."

"Really?" His brow lifted. "What the hell are you doing up there?"

"Shhhh. Keep it down. He just wants to talk."

George's expression flashed between confusion and intrigue. "About?"

"Our kind."

"Vamps? Or gladiators?"

"How many non-vampire gladiator vampires have you met?"

"Right, I'm just confused. Why does he want to know about vampires?"

"I don't get it either. He seems completely clueless about how we live, what we're like, and what happens to us down here."

"Bullshit. He's a Regent."

Mira let go of the bars, her hands burning from the silver. She looked down at the angry red hives blistering her palms, a physical reminder of the truth – that humans were the ones who imprisoned her. "That's what I was thinking. He's an Elite. He has to have something... some ulterior motive."

George nodded. "So... what did you tell him?"

The blisters on her palms faded, but the lesson remained. "I told him every gory detail about the lightbox, training, and rations."

"Well, no wonder you didn't have to perform. You probably killed his mood." George laughed. "I know I wouldn't be able to get it up after all that talk of torture."

"I don't know. I bet the handlers would get a hard-on hearing all about torture."

"Touché!" George tipped his head. That was one thing Mira loved about her friend – he could always find the humor, even in the darkest of times. "So, your Patron... the Regent," he said with flair, "really just wanted to talk."

"Yeah." She didn't want to mention the part where he said he might be able to help her escape. George wouldn't believe it. Mira still didn't believe it herself, but the inkling of hope remained, and she didn't need anyone to douse that small spark.

"Be careful, Mira."

"I hear you. He was the one who pulled me out of the arena schedule too. But I fixed that."

George shook his head. "I'd have stayed away from the arena if I were you. I heard the Magistrate is coming for this weekend's festivities. My Patron was pretty excited. The Magistrate is bringing his best fighters, too."

It shouldn't have, but the prospect of new fighters kind of excited her. Mira was known as the 'best of the best' in New Haven City, a title that had earned her a bit of animosity among the rest of the gladiators. She needed the chance to branch out a bit. Create some new enemies. "Good. I could use some fresh blood."

"Mira, you're crazy, girl!"

"Look, I'm either going to die and never have to endure another day here in the pit, or I am going to win and get fresh blood, something I desperately need. It's a win-win. That's better than rotting in my cell, waiting for the Regent to call me up for another chat."

"True... I guess. But if you have to languish in here waiting to chat with someone, at least it's someone worth waiting for. You know he's a man of power. It wouldn't hurt to keep him happy."

"Are you suggesting..."

"No. I'm trying to tell you in the nicest way possible that you need to do what it takes to keep this guy happy. Your reputation around here has got the humans wanting you dead just as much as your opponents."

"Let them come at me. All of them."

"See?"

"I'm supposed to be ashamed that I can kick all of their asses?"

"No, but you do flaunt it."

"I'm a survivor. I do what it takes, and I'm proud that I've lasted this long."

"I know. You're the shit! But at least consider having someone else, besides me, on your team. You could do with a few more friends... or at least allies."

Mira gave him a silent sidelong glance. She knew he was right, but she was not about to kowtow to a human, no matter how powerful he was. "I'll do what I always do... survive."

"I'm not really sure what that means, but I hope somewhere in that thick head of yours the message got through."

Chapter 12

A dusty brown tunic, belted it at the waist, and flat leather sandals made up the entirety of Mira's pathetic fighting armor. Scantily clad though she was, Mira preferred to fight with next to nothing, even barefoot; but since this was a special fight, one which the Magistrate himself would be attending, fighters were required to wear full gear. This should prove interesting. She hadn't been in a fight with actual gear in quite some time. Her Owner had even sent her short sword out to be sharpened.

While she waited for her escorts to arrive, Mira wrapped her short hair into a bandana so no stray hairs would get into her eyes. With new fighters coming into the arena, she needed to be sure she had nothing impeding her vision. Mira was ready, almost itching for a fight. The rumor flying around the cell block was that the Magistrate had brought along his best fighters. Not much in the way of news made it into the depths of the Iron Gate prisons, but Mira had heard about a fighter called Mitchell. He was supposedly built like a tank, a former vampire resistance fighter, combat-trained – and, like she, an undefeated champion. He'd definitely make for an interesting opponent. One who might actually stand a chance of beating her.

Though she did not have a death wish, she'd welcome the end of this existence if that was the end result of her next battle in the arena. She'd lived this life for so long that nothing really mattered. Only the prospect of escape kept her going, and each attempt so far had been a disaster.

At least if she went out, she'd have an honorable death. Go out fighting. A warrior's death.

The heavy footfall of boots on concrete told Mira that her handlers were on their way.

"Ready when you are," Mira casually said, and stuck her hands through the bars.

The male handler led the way to her cell. Mira could tell him only by his height. Both he and the female were wearing head to toe gear again, including helmets with face masks.

_They really must fear me,_ Mira mused, the thought bringing a smile to her face.

The male handler banged his UV torch against the bars. "Ready to die, slave? I'll be glad to be rid of you," he said. "Step back. Keep your hands in plain sight. No funny business."

While the male handler went to enter the code, the other pointed her UV torch directly at Mira, ready with an itchy-looking trigger finger, to blast her with a face full of burning light.

"I wouldn't dream of funny business. It's an arena day," Mira said innocently. She flashed her fangs and waggled an eyebrow at the female handler. She couldn't see the reaction, but felt satisfied she'd successfully made her cringe.

The male finished punching in the code. Based on the sound, Mira knew it had been changed yet again. Damn them. They must have her on a daily code change. That would make any future escape attempts a bit tricky. The lock clicked and the door swung open.

"Let's do this!" Mira held out her hands, awaiting the silver accessories to her fighting ensemble.

She gave them no struggle, and to her great credit, she even remained pleasant through their snide comments, rude shoves, and barked orders as they escorted her from her cell.

Normally gloomy and foreboding, the waiting area, affectionately known as the stable, was alive with action. A large hall of a room, lit with overhead fluorescent lights and filled with benches, the stable also held an extensive weapons closet guarded by a set of handlers. They were particularly attentive to any vampire coming too close before their time to check out a weapon. She entered the stable and took a spot at the nearest bench.

Mira spied quite a few new faces among the crowd of waiting champions. They all looked as if they were hiding their fears, but there was a palpable feeling of anxiety in the room. Everyone, Mira included, knew that these fights were often to the death, and not all the vampires in this room were as ready as she to see what Fate had in store for them. Anyone in this room could be Mira's end or a life she would be forced to end. The uncertainty, especially with new fighters in the room, was enough to give even the toughest fighter a moment's pause.

Three new faces caught her attention. Males. They sat together on a wooden bench along the far wall, their hulking forms barely covered by the fancy dark leather tunics that made them stand out against the rest of the Iron Gate gladiators. Even a decorated winner as she was, Mira had never worn anything more than a leather belt for armor. These men had much nicer and better protective clothing than anything the Iron Gate provided. Two of the new men were bald, recently shaved by the looks of it, but the third had a full head of golden waves. Though he was muscular, he looked too pretty to be in the arena. Surely he had a Patron or three who kept him busy. Maybe they were the ones to provide such nice armor. Mira spotted nice leather bracers around the wrists of the pretty male. His boots, too, were fancier than anything she'd ever see a gladiator wear. He had to be the champ – the one she'd heard rumors was going to be in this weekend's battles.

He caught sight of Mira staring at him and gave her a nod.

Mira returned the gesture. He looked like a Mitchell, she thought. The others seemed more like bruisers. She'd find out soon enough.

A human male with two guards at his back addressed the room. "Magistrate Mathias Robertson is in attendance today. He expects a good show from you all. Fights will be, as usual, to the blood, with final kill to be determined by his lordship, Magistrate Robertson. You've been pre-assigned opponents. When I call your name, you'll take opposite sides of the room. Line up."

He began to list off names. New or unknown fighters always went first, followed by the regulars, and finally the known winners. "Mira to my left. Mitchell, to my right."

Just as she'd expected, the golden-haired man stood and walked to the other side of the room. Mira couldn't help but stare. Mitchell was just too pretty to be a fighter. But she'd heard he'd killed more than any other vampire. Despite his unassuming good looks, he was a merciless fighter, one not to be underestimated.

He noticed her scrutinizing him again and gave her another quiet smile. Rather than shy away from his gaze and admit she'd been caught staring, Mira kept her eyes locked onto his defiantly. She wondered if he knew of her reputation. Might he have concerns about fighting with her?

Somewhere deep within her, Mira knew this fight would be different. Trying to shove away her thoughts and focus on warming up, Mira turned away from Mitchell and began her stretching routine. With her wrists and legs still cuffed, her range of motion was limited, but she still managed to maneuver into a few positions. The gentle burn of muscles working helped to keep her mind riveted to the task at hand rather than on Mitchell and his surprising good looks and immaculate armor.

The paired groups went up. One by one they were called to fight. Mira heard the cheers of the crowd and smelled the tantalizing scent of fresh blood being spilled. Occasionally the fighters would return, some as pairs and some just single victors. Survival in the arena was not always based on being the best fighter. Sometimes the crowd picked a favorite based on performance and showmanship. Entertain the masses and you could save your skin. More than once Mira had been prevented from killing a felled opponent because the crowd called for them to live.

Finally, last in line, Mira and Mitchell were called up to fight. Mira approached the handler in charge of the weapons closet and requested her sword. As her hands were still cuffed, the handler retrieved her weapon, checked it off his list, and walked around Mira, sheathing it in her belt for her.

Mitchell was handed a rather odd-looking weapon, one Mira had never actually seen in live combat before. An ancient and nasty-looking thing: a ball with long spikes on a short chain attached to a wooden handle. She'd seen flails like this before in books, but never actually met a fighter who used one. Unlike his armor, this weapon appeared to have been used quite often. Based on the wear and tear, it was his weapon of choice. Some of the spikes had been sheared off, some worn to nubs. Deep scars ate into the wooden handle. Yes, this weapon had seen quite a lot of action in its time, and yet its Owner was as fresh and clean as if he'd never seen a day of battle. That, despite her resolve, gave Mira a moment's pause.

She suddenly wished she had a shield to use with her sword. But wishing would not make it happen. She shoved down her apprehension at the foreign and dangerous looking weapon. No good would come from showing her fear.

A gruff bark from her handler told Mira it was her time. She walked to the arena doors. Mitchell's name was called next, and he too walked toward the door. A cage dropped down around the two gladiators. Mira held out her hands toward the bars, waiting for her restraints to be removed. Her heart pounded with anticipation. Once those bars lifted, she'd need to be ready to fight.

Without a word of acknowledgement or glance of recognition to each other, Mitchell and Mira stood together while their handlers worked to remove their restraints. The front of the cage lifted as the doors to the arena opened.

The rowdy mass of spectators was still cheering the last combatants whose fight had just ended. Only one vampire would be returning to the stable alive. Adding insult to injury, the screams and howls of approval from the happy crowd as the other was dragged away by a team of handlers served to harden Mira's resolve. The poor wretch's blood muddied the ground where it had spilled and trailed on to another set of doors, ones only used to dispose of the dead.

The scent of freshly spilled blood caught in Mira's nose, awakening something primal within her. She'd recently been allowed extra rations, a gift of her Patron, to build strength before the fight, but nothing compared to the sweet smell of fresh, hot blood pouring from an open vein.

Mira and Mitchell entered the arena side by side, walking straight to the center. An announcer overhead called out their names, and the crowd erupted in another bout of loud screams, hoots, and cheers.

Mitchell smiled up to the crowd, turned around a full circle, and waved to his adoring audience. Mira remained still, staring straight ahead, caught off guard by the sight of her new Patron, Lucian, sitting next to the Magistrate. She'd seen him observing the games on many occasions, and watched for his signal to make the killing blow, but somehow, seeing him here, now, after their little chats felt different.

She nodded stiffly to the Elite box and then finally addressed the crowd. She held up her sword in a victory pose, and those in the crowd who were clearly her fans jumped to their feet. She may have been the bane of her handlers and owners, but the rest of the crowd loved her. She was a winner. She never failed to give a good fight. And she would not disappoint this time either.

"Combatants," the announcer called over the speakers. "It is your privilege today to be able to display your skills for not only your Regent but also our esteemed Magistrate. You may show your gratitude now."

Gratitude was not what Mira felt, but she'd done this so many times. She turned back towards the Elite box. "I fight for the honor of the Iron Gate and the pleasure of its people, and salute our great leader, Magistrate Mathias Robertson, for allowing me this opportunity."

Mitchell repeated a similar token of false gratitude. Mira could hear it in his voice; he was just as sick of this bullshit as she was. But that would not matter once the horn blared overhead, signaling the start of battle.

Mitchell's face hardened from bored to cold and calculating. He whipped his flail around overhead a few times in a nice display for the crowd.

The chain was no more than two feet, but she needed to account for the handle and his reach too if she wanted to stay out of striking distance. Her own short sword would not provide much protection. It was a close quarters weapon, and she doubted she would get the opportunity to get near him.

He swung it — more like flung it — at her, and she narrowly avoided the head of the spiked ball as it whizzed past her nose.

In unison, the crowd sucked in a deep audible breath.

Mira ducked the next swing but wasn't prepared for the recoil. Mitchell quickly backstroked with the weapon and whipped it back in Mira's direction. Even with her supernatural speed, she couldn't escape the blow. The spiked head of the flail came at her fast. She dropped her sword, reached out and snatched the ball mid-flight. A spike drove straight into her palm. She bit back a scream as she clamped her hand around the ball and jerked it back quickly. Mitchell held tight to the handle, overbalanced himself, and toppled down to the ground.

Mira, too, lost her footing. She released the weapon as she windmilled her arms in an effort to stay upright.

A mix of cheers and boos rained down from above. Clearly Mitchell had some fans. She would have smiled up at their taunting, but Mitchell was already bouncing back to his feet.

Her hand bleeding from her fresh wounds, Mira crouched, ready to strike. Mitchell was not giving her an opening; he immediately went to swinging the flail defensively. It whizzed through the air with deadly speed. Wicked fast with a supernatural speed equal to hers, Mitchell was damn near invincible with that weapon. She needed to get in close, but couldn't find a way to do it without feeling the sting of the spikes again. Her hand was bad enough. It was healing, but not as quickly as she would like. She could only imagine how pleasant it would feel to have those spikes pierce other parts of her body.

With her sword on the ground, she was completely defenseless. Her blade sat too far away, lying in the dirt just past Mitchell's feet. If she could get to it she might have a fighting chance. What she really needed was a shield, but that was not to be. She'd have to make do. Mira watched the way Mitchell swung back and forth, following the patterns of his arm. Finally, she saw her opening. As he finished his backswing, there, just a moment – but it was enough for her to get in close. She lunged forward, rushing him before he could bring the weapon forward again. Expecting him to go down with as much force as she had laid into her attack, she was shocked when she slammed into his body and he did not budge.

So much for knocking him out of the way so she could retrieve her weapon. Mitchell was immovable – all except for his arm, which snapped forward, carrying with it the flail. The spiked end of it wrapped around and hit her in the side.

Never before had she felt such an acute sensation. For a moment she felt as if the damn thing would slice her in two, the way the spiked head ripped through her flesh. The pain made her eyes water, but she did not cry out. She wouldn't give him or the crowd that satisfaction.

He flailed his arm again, ripping the spiked ball out of her. Mira had no time to lose; she ducked and threw herself to the ground.

She glanced up long enough to track Mitchell's movements and guess where his next strike would land. She quickly rolled left, then right, narrowly dodging the ball as it struck the dirt next to her head both times. Another quick roll to the left, and she scooped up her sword. She kept rolling a few more times, hoping to put a little distance between her and Mitchell's relentless assault with the flail.

It broke the air just inches above her face as Mitchell swiped low.

He was toying with her.

Mira righted herself and hopped up to her feet. If he wanted to play dirty, she'd play dirty. She held her sword up like a spear ready to toss. Mitchell halted, his stony scowling face contorted quizzically.

"You like to swing at things. Then swing at this." She jerked her hand forward but did not release the blade.

Mitchell however, began to swing his weapon. Mira took advantage of Mitchell's inability to stop the forward momentum of his arm and let loose her blade, throwing it like a spear. It hit Mitchell in the shoulder of his flail arm. Exactly what Mira wanted.

Mitchell held tight to his flail but his arm had gone limp. Blood began to soak through his tunic. The smell of it taunted Mira. She knew his essence would be her reward and looked forward to sampling it.

She gave Mitchell an impish smile. One she was surprised to see him return. With his good hand, Mitchell gripped the sword and yanked it from his arm. He dropped it to the ground at his feet and stepped on it.

Not the reaction she was hoping for. Lesser vamps would have conceded defeat and hoped for the leniency of the Regent to allow them to live to fight another day. Not Mitchell; he swapped the flail into his good hand and resumed his taunting barrage of swipes in front of his body.

Weaponless and without a plan, Mira bobbed and weaved, keeping herself loose and on the balls of her feet, ready to strike when she could. He'd make a mistake again, give her an opening, and this time she would not fail.

Above her and all around, the crowd was a roar of noise. Some cheering, some yelling to get on with the fight, and still others calling for death. Mira wasn't quite sure whose death exactly, but the humans clearly wanted blood.

Mira couldn't risk a look up at them or the fifty-foot screen displaying the fight; Mitchell's flail was already coming too close for comfort. Each swing pushed her back a half step. She'd expected his arm to have tired out, but that man had stamina she hadn't seen before. Even for a vampire, he was like a machine. Bastard must have had fresh blood before the fight, and not the meager rations she'd been given. She guessed he must have had a few pints, as energetic as he was.

Mitchell changed direction and backhanded the flail in a wide arc, nearly catching her in the side of the head. She knew he was baiting her, pushing her exactly where he wanted her. Through his stony face she caught something of a curiosity – the dead gaze of his golden eyes told her that he was not enjoying this. It was all business to him. Nothing personal. She recognized the look as it was one she often had while fighting an opponent she knew she would best.

That enraged her further. Not that she wanted to see Mitchell enjoying the fight, but that she was not worthy of his concern as a fighter. She was the best New Haven City had to offer! She deserved a little recognition.

Mira snarled, wanting to rip that damn weapon from his hand. Show him what kind of a fighter she really was. Maybe take the whole arm with it. But she just couldn't find a way in. He was relentless, creating a good six-foot barrier between himself and Mira, all while pushing her backwards. She understood now why he was such a renowned fighter. Who could get close to him? With his speed, stamina, and that weapon, he had all the advantage in hand-to-hand combat. Well, if she could get her sword, she'd have more to fight with than just her hands. She just needed a good opening.

Her sword now lay behind Mitchell; he'd advanced on her enough to have left it behind him. She watched the movement of his arm and the pattern to the direction of his flail. Knowing that he was weaker and less able to react in the moments before a backhanded stroke, she waited precisely for that moment to strike.

She bolted forward as Mitchell's hand finished its cross in front of his body. She twirled as she neared him, bumping him with her ass as she rotated. Hoping to knock him off balance she threw her weight into him. Without waiting to see if she had accomplished her goal, she continued to twirl and then ducked when she reached her sword.

The air broke above her head. She heard the fast whiz of the spiked ball, missing her by scant inches.

_Damn, he was a quick one!_ As fast as she could, she grabbed her weapon and brought it up defensively and not a moment too soon. Mitchell had swung his flail again. It caught her blade. He yanked back, but Mira would not lose her weapon again. She held firm. The chain of the flail had wrapped tight around her sword. Mitchell yanked hard again, but Mira stood her ground, gripping the sword with both hands.

Finally the flail came free. Mitchell appeared to lose balance as his arm went back. Mira roundhouse kicked, aiming for his side, but caught him in the ass instead. Still, it was enough to send him, already off balance, toppling down to the ground. He fell in such a way that his body ended up covering his weapon. She'd hoped for the chance to grab it and show him a little of his own medicine, but she'd settle for kicking the shit out of him instead. She swung her foot hard again, and delivered a nasty, rib-cracking kick to his torso. He rolled over, bringing his weapon with him and tried to fling it with a wild backhanded stroke. She skipped back, away from the ball, and it landed in the dirt with a thud.

Mira stepped on the chain between the spiked head and the handle, still in Mitchell's arm. He tried to lift it, but strong as he was, he didn't have the leverage to move it this way.

She pointed her sword down at his face. "You're beaten. Call the fight."

"You know I cannot do that." He looked so much like he wanted to, but Mira knew better. She herself wouldn't have called for any reason. She'd die trying to win. And so, it appeared, would Mitchell. He rolled forward, toward Mira, toward her blade, impaling his shoulder upon it as he threw his bodyweight into her legs and kept rolling.

She was sent head over heels toppling to the ground. The hilt of her sword came up at her quickly as she somersaulted into the dirt.

When she was able to make out up from down, Mitchell had his weapon at the ready and struck. The spiked ball embedded itself into her left leg first. Then, before she could completely roll away from danger, it found the fleshy part of her right thigh.

She bit back the cries of agony that wanted to escape her throat. She didn't want to give the crowd that satisfaction. A third strike, though, made her bellow as hot salty tears flooded her vision. Her ribcage was shattered, or at least that was how it felt. Every nerve in her body had been sent the same signal: sharp, stinging, pain. She looked up, wanting to meet the eyes of her killer before he laid the final blow. But he was not looking down at her, nor was his weapon cocked and ready to deliver her death. Instead, he was gazing up at the Elite box.

The roaring crowd silenced. Tears blurred Mira's normally acute vision, but she did not need to see to know what was happening. Realization that she'd lost began to sink in. Her flawless record had been broken, like her body. She was unsure of what hurt worse, the sting of her pride or what felt like an endless wait for her death to be ordered.

"And now we come to the end of another glorious battle. Wasn't it exciting? What shall we do, my people?" The Magistrate's thick voice boomed over the loud speakers.

The answering response was not unanimous. Some screamed for death, while a few others, it sounded like, were calling for leniency.

"With great respect, Magistrate..." Mira heard the voice of her Patron over the loudspeaker. "She's our favorite here in Iron Gate. I think we should spare her for the sake of future entertainment."

The crowd cheered again. Some chanted Mira's name.

Mitchell turned his head down toward hers. She blinked away the tears, but they would soon be back. Every ounce of her being was on fire.

"I'm glad to spare you," Mitchell whispered. "You're my favorite as well."

"Thank you." It was all she could manage to say. She was done, body spent. They might as well kill her. With the little rations she'd be given, it would take weeks to heal properly.

Weak and beaten as she was, Mira was glad the fight was over. She closed her eyes and let unconsciousness claim her body. If she woke up again, she'd deal with the aftermath of failure then. For now, peace.

Chapter 13

Mira awoke with a start, expecting the cold darkness of her cell, but found harsh lights glaring down at her. She'd never been in such a bright and sterile-smelling room before, but she could guess at its purpose. Had she really been hurt badly enough that she required medical assistance, instead of just sleeping off her wounds? No, certainly not. She was a vampire. Nothing short of losing her head would permanently harm her.

"Regent, she's waking up!" a soft yet frantic female voice called out above Mira.

She tried to turn her head, but a hard, thick metal barrier prevented her from turning in any direction.

"What?" Lucian responded, but she couldn't quite gauge where he was in the room. "Her body must be metabolizing the drugs faster than we can administer them. Bring me another round of sedatives... now."

Weak muscles made Mira feel as if her body had been submerged in quicksand. Every small movement seemed to pull her further down into a dark abyss, but still she tried, futilely, to rise. Through the blessed numbness brought on by the drugs they'd given her Mira still felt the annoying sting of silver around her wrists. She tried to move her arms, to break free of the restraints, but couldn't overcome the weight of her exhaustion and sedative medication. Looking down, Mira tried to focus on what she could, looking for some way to escape. Her entire hand up to her elbow was trapped inside a large cylindrical cage. A tube, either red or filled with her blood —Mira couldn't quite tell— ran up from her wrist toward the ceiling. There it disappeared, probably into another medical room above. But why? What were they doing to her? Was this what happened to those who lost in the arena? And why was her Patron, of all people, standing above her with a clipboard, wearing purple medical scrubs?

"Relax, Mira, everything will be okay." Lucian's voice was chipper, a little too much so for the circumstances. She'd no doubt lost him and her Owner quite a bit of money in that fight. Perhaps this was a new form of punishment and he was happy to see it in action. If that was the case, she'd much rather take her final death. The humiliation of losing was already more than she wanted to bear.

"No, no. Don't try to get up," he said.

"Not that I could if I wanted to." Her throat dry, Mira's voice was barely a raspy breath.

"No. I doubt that you could. Even so, save your strength. You've lost a lot of blood."

"Then why are you taking more?"

Lucian bent down low, inches from Mira's face. "You're going to have to trust me. Whatever you hear, hold your tongue. I'll explain later." His tone brooked no arguments, and Mira understood that.

But why was he warning her? That man was more of a puzzle every time she saw him. Where he should have been livid at her for losing, he sounded calm. Where he should have ordered her to be quiet for asking too many questions, he simply told her to wait. And most of all, why did he lobby for her to live when she had clearly been defeated, disgraced in that last battle?

She nodded, wondering what was in store for her next. Having never lost a battle before, she could only assume the fun that awaited her.

A door opened somewhere to her left, and the whole feel of the room changed. Even without seeing what was happening around her, Mira picked up on the sudden anxious shift of everyone in the room.

Lucian stood suddenly and folded his arms behind his back. Mira smelled the new arrival before he spoke. His odor was that of one who had bathed in the sewer and then tried to cover the stench with a variety of citrus scents. The effect only served to give him a sour milk stench. How no one else in the room picked up on it, she did not know. Even with their weak sense of smell, the other humans in the room should have been repulsed, but no one showed any signs of it. That could only mean one thing – this newcomer was a man of great power, as was also evidenced by the stiffness in her patron's posture.

"Magistrate," Lucian said with a salute, beating his left shoulder three times with his right hand, then held it out in greeting. The Magistrate slowly took the offered hand and gave it a quick two-pump shake. Lucian continued. "As you can see, she survived. Her wounds are healing, slower than we had anticipated, but not out of the question, considering the blood loss."

"And how much have you collected?" The Magistrate's voice was thick, much like his body. The stench of him made Mira want to puke, and again she wondered how those around her were able to hold their gag reflex.

Lucian smiled congenially. "We're taking it slow. Only two pints today. We encountered a slight problem with the dosages of anesthesia required to sedate the patient but not taint the sample we're collecting."

Cold unfeeling eyes gazed down on her disdainfully. Clearly Magistrate Mathias had no love for her kind, but the disgusted look he gave her told Mira that he wished he could have had her executed. "You should have had this sorted out before my arrival."

"I've had my best scientists and doctors on this for weeks, sir. I have personally overseen every aspect of this project to ensure...."

Now she knew why Lucian was so interested in learning more about her and vampire kind. Anger welled within her, but she lacked the strength to act on it. It all made sense. Medical experimentation. A fate worse than death. She should have killed him that first day she met him. She'd be dead, sure, but so would he – and his experiments.

"I don't need excuses, Stavros. I need results... now!" Magistrate Mathias slammed his meaty fist down on the side of her bed.

"Yes, of course, sir. If you'll just have a look..."

"We'll need at least five before we can begin the first trial, am I correct?"

"Yes. And then we'll need another five to transfuse during the experiment."

"Then get me ten pints. How hard can that be?"

Mira's eyes went wide in shock. What the hell were they going to do with her blood?

"Understood. But, we cannot bleed her dry if you wish for a successful outcome." Lucian sounded almost concerned about Mira's safety, but surely that couldn't be the case. Not with the Magistrate breathing down his neck. No. His concern was for his own skin. And apparently, that was in jeopardy.

"You should have had the initial collection done before I arrived." The Magistrate sounded more than annoyed. His spittle flew and he jabbed a sausage-like finger toward Lucian. "I don't wish to stay here any longer than I have to. "

"Sir, yes, I do apologize," Lucian was practically tripping over himself to calm the Magistrate down. "But you must understand, vampire blood is volatile. It only remains stable for so long. It must be used immediately. After our last candidate failed to withstand the collection, we decided Mira was the best candidate for this experiment. She is strong and vital. You'll see. Her blood will prove worthwhile."

If he hadn't been selling her qualities for his experiment, Mira might have been happy to see him come to her defense. As it was, she knew whatever it was he was selling, she didn't want to be a part of it. Not that she had a choice.

Unimpressed, the Magistrate shot a deadly glare at Mira. "She's a loser whose head should be adorning the spikes at the entrance of the arena."

"With all due respect–"

"Don't think I am ignorant to the fact that she is your play thing."

"That's not why I am–"

"Silence. Increase collection. I want the trial started tonight." The Magistrate turned around and headed back the direction he had come from.

Mira was glad to hear the fading footsteps; if he'd stayed any longer the stench alone might have done her in. Though, from the sound of things, that was exactly what was in store for her.

Lucian looked down at Mira, his face filled with sadness and regret. "I'm sorry, Mira."

"You say that like someone about to pronounce my death sentence."

"I may have."

"Go on, then, kill me. Make it quick, though. Slit my throat and let me bleed out. Quit toying with me."

"I told you – whatever you heard, you must trust me." He lowered himself and whispered. "I know how bad this all sounds. I cannot imagine what must be running through your mind. It is bad, yes, but my motives are not."

"Can you tell me what the hell is happening?"

He put his hand over her mouth. "Shhhh. Not so loud. It's best we keep things quiet until I can talk with you privately. Too many ears around."

When were there not too many ears around? Privacy was not a luxury anyone could afford. "So, what then? You drain me dry and hope I live?"

The nurse returned with a tray of what must have been the meds Lucian had ordered. She quietly set it down and turned to leave.

Lucian looked at the chart in his hand and sighed. "I will do all I can for you. But you have to understand I am under scrutiny."

Oh, sure. Her life was hanging in the balance, but she had to understand his position. The audacity of it enraged her further. Good intentions or not, he was still treating her like a lesser creature. Hardly endearing, and definitely not a way to earn her trust – but Mira had no choice but to endure.

She caught the familiar clip-clop sound of stilettos on tile floor, heading in her direction. Great, just what she needed now. Of all the visitors to see her.

Lucian, however, did not appear to notice the new arrival. He had returned to scrutinizing his charts. Mira might not have seen her, but she could smell the familiar cloying perfume of her Owner.

"Getting friendly with the slave?" That shrill voice came from behind Lucian. "Patron or not, I will have my time with her. Do you know how much gold she lost me?"

Lucian turned on her with a speed Mira had not thought possible in a human. Gone from his posture was the worry and stress he'd shown in the presence of the Magistrate. He stood straight and tall as he addressed the pompous blonde. "Do not forget who you are talking to, Ms. Preston."

Mira couldn't see her, but she could hear the waver in her Owner's proud voice. "My apologies, Regent. I just... well... she lost me so much."

"She's under sanction from the Magistrate at the moment. When she has fulfilled her duty to him, you can have what remains."

The way he said that sent a chill down Mira's spine. If she endured this, whatever he had in store for her, she'd still have her Owner to deal with. And that rarely meant anything but a trip to the box.

"And if nothing remains?" Olivia sounded even more worried now. "What compensation will I be given?"

"If that's the case, we will deal with it then. Do not forget I have investments in this slave as well."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten. I trust she's been fulfilling her end of the bargain?"

"That is not your concern."

"I meant no disrespect, Regent. I only meant to know if she is keeping you satisfied. That is, after all, why you invested in her, was it not?"

"If that ever becomes an issue, you will be the first to know. Now, please leave, as I have more work to do with her for the Magistrate."

"Is she serving him as well? She looks to be enjoying her day at the spa."

"I assure you, ma'am, she is being adequately punished for her failure in the arena."

"Really? And what punishment is that?"

"Madam. I have been more than polite and tolerant of you, your disrespectful attitude, and your nosing about. You've been asked to leave once already. If you do not vacate the premises right now, I will have you forcibly removed." Lucian stepped aside and pointed to the door. For the first time, Mira was able to see the face of her Owner.

Mira had never thought it possible, but Olivia looked positively embarrassed. The red flush of her cheeks in particular caught Mira's notice. Blood. Something she desperately needed. She could feel it now, the burning sensation as her blood was being forcibly removed. The medication they had given her to numb the pain must have run its course and now the torture of empty veins was making itself known. A slow, burning hunger crept up her throat. She stared at her Owner, still standing defiantly in front of Lucian, with her heart pounding with rage. The frantic thump-thump of it called out to Mira like a siren. She'd lost so much blood already. It had to be replaced somehow. Licking her parched lips, she let out a slight whimper.

That small noise was enough to catch the attention of her patron and Owner. They both looked down at her with horror. Mira could only imagine the sight she must be. Eyes wide with bloodlust, locked on to the pulsing artery at the side of her Owner's creamy neck. Fangs bared, ready to strike, even though she had no means to do it. Strapped down to the hospital bed, she was incapable of moving more than an inch in any direction. But still she tried, whimpering and grunting with need. She'd go mad with hunger if they waited too long to give her rations.

She struggled futilely against the restraints, finding them aggravatingly immovable.

"What is she doing?" Her Owner sounded shocked.

"She's being tortured in the most painful way possible. Leave... for your own safety."

"Please send word when it will be my turn." She turned on her extremely high heels and walked away at a pace much quicker than normal.

Gnawing hunger made Mira more beast than beauty. She no longer cared where the blood came from, she'd rip open any vein she could find and drown in the rushing waves of it. Like a caged beast, Mira pulled once more against her restraints, failing to budge them at all.

"Easy now, girl. I know what you need. Open up."

Mira did, baring her fangs and locking onto Lucian's eyes with a glare that screamed death.

Lucian uncorked a deep red vial and emptied the contents down into Mira's awaiting mouth. As little as it was, Mira savored it, holding the blood in her mouth for a few moments, letting it wash over her tongue and hit every taste bud. It was rat blood, and old at that. Some small coagulated bits floated around, and the consistency was that of warm jello, but it was still better than nothing. She swallowed and opened wide for more.

Lucian followed one vial with another, until Mira had downed at least twenty of them. Still her hunger remained.

"I can't give you too much at a time. People will get suspicious," Lucian said. There was genuine concern in his tone. "But I'll do my best to sneak in extras when I can. We need to get about ten pints from you today."

"Why?" Still ravenous, she barely recognized her own voice.

"I wish I could tell you right now. But I cannot. You're just going to have to trust me."

"You say that a lot, you know?"

"And yet you continue to question me and my motives. Have I not proven to you yet that I am not trying to harm you?"

"The blood you're stealing from my veins would say otherwise."

"At least you are alive for that blood to be taken. The Magistrate wanted you dead."

"At least I would have earned a warrior's death."

His brow furrowed with sadness, or maybe disappointment, at the mention of death. Almost as if he might truly care if that was the end Mira found. She wanted to believe that might be the case, but she couldn't trust him or his motives; at least, not fully.

"Death is not the answer," he said.

"Neither is slavery.... or medical experimentation."

"We can go round in circles later. I'm going to sedate you for the time being to help ease your pain and hunger. When you have recovered, we will talk." Lucian held up a syringe filled with clear liquid. "This might hurt a bit."

The ridiculousness of his words made her want to laugh. After all the things done to her, he was worried about a little prick causing her pain. If she'd had the strength she might have uttered a chuckle, but before Mira could open her mouth, a strange warmth overtook her body.

Chapter 14

Heavy, as if they'd been covered by a lead blanket, Mira's limbs would not move. The drugs had worked to immobilize her, but Mira remained conscious, trapped within herself, experiencing the most unbearable hell she'd ever been through. Hours passed in an agony that she could neither vocalize nor fight against. She felt every drop of blood slowly leaving her parched body. Her veins burned. Deflating under the siphoning pull of the machines stealing her essence, her skin pulled taut against her bones. Each labored breath she took whistled past her parched lips. She couldn't imagine there was any more blood left in her body, and still they found more to take.

Her only respite came the few times Lucian came to check on her. Sneaking in a few extra rations, he tipped them quickly down her throat. Each one was like a moment of pure bliss, but not nearly enough to sate the burning need for more.

He'd joked to her Owner, that she'd be punished, and so she was, in the worst way. Mira would have begged for death if she'd had the voice or the strength to push air past her vocal cords. If it weren't for the involuntary dry rasping gasp, she wouldn't have breathed at all.

Mira didn't know how long she had endured. She had no way to measure the time, but eventually Lucian returned and, along with delivering her rations, he thankfully shut off the machines. Mira felt the agonizing pull against her veins stop. If she'd had the ability, she'd have moaned with relief.

With almost loving care, Lucian retracted the needles and pulled the tubes away from her wrists. Human or not, Mira was filled with thankful admiration for her patron. At that moment, he was her savior. And she hoped that he was here to end her suffering.

"I'm so very sorry, Mira." The way he spoke had the somber tone of one saying a final goodbye.

Did she really look that bad? Or was he about to start another round of torture?

Mira attempted to make a noise. But parched as she was, all she could manage was a rasp of air, just enough though to let Lucian know she was still there.

His eyes lit up. "Good girl. Keep fighting the good fight. I'll be right back with some rations."

That was music to her ears. Blood would solve all her problems. She'd heal, she'd be able to metabolize the drugs and overcome their effects, and most importantly, she'd survive.

Lucian returned with a few vials in his hand. Not as much as she was hoping for, but anything would do about now.

He tipped them one by one into her mouth and waited for her to swallow. "You looked like death had already taken you."

Was that sincerity in his voice? Mira continued to be bewildered by that man. She needed answers. Real ones... soon.

Cold, stale blood filled her mouth, and desperate as she was, it was better than anything she'd ever tasted. Awakening with revitalizing energy, her body began to repair itself.

Even after all these years as a vampire, Mira was still surprised at exactly how fast blood could help her heal.

As if she was coming out of a thick fog, her head cleared and her senses returned to their normally heightened state. She twitched her pinky toe, then her foot. Her fingers wiggled, and she felt the weight slowly lifting away from her heavy limbs.

"I'm a vampire. Death already had its chance with me once and lost," Mira rasped.

"Still a smart mouth, eh. Glad to see your spirit has not been broken."

"You can break everything else, but my spirit... never."

He tipped the last vial down her throat and Mira swallowed fast, instantly regretting her gluttony. Far from sated, she'd not even allowed herself to savor the sweet life-giving essence he'd smuggled in for her.

"Take it easy. I'm going to order you on rest for the next two days before I return you to your Owner."

"You'd be better off killing me here. She'll let me rest in the lightbox for those two days." Mira twisted her head from side to side, testing her mobility. Not quite back up to speed, but she was much better than she'd been even moments before. "Got any more rations?"

"Sorry, no. I'll order you some, though. Just be patient." Lucian worked to loosen the straps at her arms and legs. He left them on, but no longer biting into her skin. "As for Olivia... she'll not harm you further. Not if she wants to be paid."

"Paid?"

"For damages and lost time."

He spoke so matter-of-factly. It enraged Mira, constantly being reminded of just how little she mattered as a slave. Her life or death was nothing more than a monetary transaction.

"Really? Is that what you call this?"

"You won't make the next games because of time spent here, under the Magistrate's order. Naturally, your Owner will be refunded any portion of entry fees paid for the games and compensated for time you've been unable to perform."

"Really? I'm just a thing to you people, aren't I?"

"I don't mean it like that. This is just the business end of things."

"And our little arrangement? How much does that cost you?"

Lucian looked around cautiously. "This is neither the time nor the place."

Mira knew she'd stepped over the line, but she had such a hard time reining herself in when it came to her slavery. She wasn't a person. She was nothing more than an item to be used for whatever purposes they saw fit.

"Well, when is the time and place? I want some answers."

"You want? Are you demanding answers of me, your Patron, and Regent?"

She couldn't tell by his tone. Was he serious? Was he mad? Or was he just mocking her? On edge and still in desperate for more blood, Mira was teetering on the edge of control as it was.

"You and I have a unique relationship, but that does not mean you should be disrespectful. I'll arrange for another meeting soon. For now, play nice and take a nap."

She got the message loud and clear this time and decided not to press the matter further.

An agonizing wail came from a nearby room. A cry that matched the way Mira had felt but had been unable to vocalize earlier. Male, by the sound of it. Probably younger, Mira guessed, based on the higher clear tone. The wail turned into a series of shouts and cries. Whoever it was, he was no doubt in extreme pain. Probably another vampire being tortured within an inch of his life. But why here, in a human medical facility?

Mira could see other people in the room—nurses, doctors, and even patients—craning their necks and giving each other quizzical looks.

"Do I dare ask what that was?" Mira knew she wouldn't get the truth, but she couldn't stop the question from leaving her lips. The man next door was making such a ruckus she wondered if they were killing him.

Lucian's shoulders slumped. He let out a defeated sigh. When he met her eyes, there was no arrogance, only sorrow. "Phase two of our little experiment, I'm afraid."

More than a little shocked, Mira's jaw dropped at his honesty.

Then, a sudden and terrible realization hit her. She recognized the horror in those piteous moans coming from the other room. They were killing him in the worst way possible. It all made sense. They had stolen her blood. More than what would replace a human's blood supply. Had they, the humans, figured out the secrets of using vampire blood? Were they learning how to turn a human into a vampire?

"I am sorry, Mira. I need to check on this. Please, for my sake, and yours, just take it easy. Nap, rest, and recuperate. We will talk soon."

Chapter 15

Dragged back down to the dank, dark prison wing, Mira was in no mood to antagonize her handlers or even attempt to decipher the code to her cell. She wanted nothing more than to just lie down on her mattress and sleep. She didn't even rise to their taunting comments or the hard jab in the back from a UV torch. She simply stepped forward into her cell and held out her hands to be unshackled.

"Finally broke her," the male handler taunted.

Mira shrugged and dropped to her mattress. Let them think she was broken, if it meant they would leave her to rest.

The handlers laughed as they walked away. As soon as they were out of earshot, George appeared at the cell bars.

"Mira, baby. I thought I'd never see you again!" The relief in George's voice was apparent, but Mira could barely lift her head to acknowledge him.

"You okay?" George asked.

"Yeah. I'm good. Just tired. Really, really tired."

"I can see that. What did they do to you after the fight?"

Where should she begin? "We've got to get the hell out of here!"

"You say that on a daily basis, babe," George laughed. "Can't be hurt all that bad if you're still plotting your escape."

"I'm serious, George. Bad things are happening. We need to get the hell out of here... all of us."

"Whoa. Calm yourself. Keep your voice down. What happened?"

"I think they figured it out."

"Figured what?"

"George, they took my blood. All of it."

George's jaw dropped. He let out a small noise, not quite an "oh," but close enough that Mira knew he understood.

"Maybe... maybe they just know of our healing properties. You know, topical uses."

"No... The way they were talking, it sounded like a transfusion. One to one. They took ten pints from me over the last... however long I was there."

"About two days total."

"It felt longer. I was drugged for most of it. Kept me still, but conscious."

"Poor thing." Horrorstruck, George looked as if his eyes were about to pop from their sockets. They gave you rations, right?"

"Some... yeah. Lucian brought them, but not nearly enough." She hoped he would keep his word and send her more rations. As much as she wanted to tell all, her conversation with George was already taking more energy than she had. Mira needed rest and blood, in whatever order they came. She wasn't going to remain conscious much longer.

"That man is really looking out for you. Did you see the way he stepped in at the games and stayed your execution?"

She remembered his swift work staying the Magistrate's order for her execution, but she'd have much rather he'd let it be done. The alternative was a fate worse than a quick death would have been. "Yeah," she scoffed. "So he could use me as his blood bag."

"Still, you could have been killed. That Mitchell guy was no joke."

It took all she had, but Mira lifted her head, shooting daggers with her eyes at George.

"Hey." George held up his hands in surrender. "Not saying you're a joke or anything, but that guy did have you dead to rights."

Mira hated to admit it, but she'd had no chance against Mitchell with that damn flail. "He fought well. I lost. End of story."

"It wasn't a fair fight, if you ask me."

"Thanks."

"So. If the humans are doing what you think they are doing–"

"They are!"

"What's your big plan? I mean, we're at their mercy as it is."

"I don't know. I haven't thought that far in advance. My head's still fuzzy. I just know we have to stop this. Think of what will happen if they succeed!"

"Total population control. We'd be even more expendable than we are now."

"Exactly!" Visions of uncontrollable carnage flashed in her mind. Vampire heads on spikes adorning every pike in the arena, piles of dead vampires being dragged off through the _other_ arena door, the one for losers in the arena, and the dirt of the arena stained permanently red with spilled blood. "You think we have it bad now. Just wait. It can get so much worse."

"So, what do we do?"

"I wish I knew. I wish..." Her head hurt. Thinking required too much brain power. "Wait. I need to talk to Lucian. Maybe..."

"A human is not the answer to our human problem."

"Probably not, but I have nothing better to go on, and my head hurts too much to come up with something better."

"Is that you, Mira?" A loud male voice shouted from a nearby cell.

"She's here," George answered for her.

"Hey, Mira," the man taunted. "How's it feel to get put on your ass?"

That was all she needed. On top of the migraine and as tired as she was, now she had Tegan's gloating to deal with.

"Screw you, Tegan," Mira yelled.

"Everyone gets a taste of their own medicine once in a while," Tegan responded. "It's how you handle it that makes you a real warrior."

Shocked and a little surprised, Mira had not expected a seed of real wisdom from the hulking Neanderthal of a vampire.

"I hear ya. Still licking my wounds," she answered back.

"Live to fight another day," he shouted again, his voice sounding more congenial than taunting.

"Let's hope so."

"Losing might have been a good thing for you, you know." George said.

Was everyone happy to see her lose a battle? "Really? How?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're a bit of an ass. And no one likes a cocky bastard. Especially one who never gets their comeuppance. You walk around here like your shit don't stink."

She'd love to wipe the smirk off of his face, but for now she settled for giving George a 'shut the hell up' glare.

George's smile faded. "Other people think this. Not me."

"And what exactly is your point?"

"Well...this time, you got a taste of defeat, and you're being cool about it. That makes you likeable. People respect that."

"And you're saying this because..."

"It's always good to have friends."

"I have you..."

"You know I'm a lover, not a fighter."

"I think with the right motivation, you could be both."

"Let's hope we never have to test that theory."

A loud clip-clop of heels on concrete ruined the otherwise perfect sentimental moment. Mira dreaded having to speak with her Owner. That woman infuriated her more than words could say.

"Have a good time at the spa?" she snipped at Mira.

"Oh, lovely. Had the works: hair, nails... you know how we girls love all the pampering." Mira's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Cut the bullshit. What were they doing with you?"

"You mean besides punishing me for losing? Nothing." Mira wasn't about to let on that she knew more.

"And how did they go about that?"

"Chemical warfare." Damn, she was nosy!

"Meaning?"

"I don't know. Poison. Whatever it was, they fucked me up good. I can't even get up."

Mira hoped that would be enough to satisfy. She didn't want to let on that she was healthier than she looked, or that her Owner was being kept in the dark about what was really going on.

"I don't want to hear your crybaby excuses. I'd have you in the lightbox right now if it weren't for the fact that your Patron has requested you.

"Not sure I can get up to see him. I'm so weak."

"You'll get up and you'll serve him in whatever manner he wants. Do you understand me? You keep that man happy and satisfied with you."

"I can't do much without blood."

Her Owner huffed. "I'll have a ration sent down early. But it's coming out of your dinner supply."

"I appreciate your generosity."

"I'm certain you do." Her tone was dangerous, but Mira wasn't worried. Olivia might despise her and desire nothing more than to make Mira's life a living hell, but because of the money she earned, Olivia couldn't give up such a prize stallion as Mira. No matter how bad an attitude she had.

Chapter 16

Eager to get some answers, Mira rushed though the prepping routine before meeting with her patron. Even cuffed and escorted, Mira managed to quicken everybody's pace up to the suite, and when the door opened and Lucian greeted her, she almost ran him down to get into the room.

"Someone is eager today," one of the handlers laughed as he uncuffed her hands and feet.

Mira smirked but did not rise to the taunt.

As soon as the door closed behind her handlers, Mira turned on Lucian. "You want to tell me what happened back there?"

"Well now, you've certainly gotten bold, haven't you?" His tone was a precarious balance of annoyance and amusement, but Mira wasn't in any mood to play the 'nice' game. She wanted answers... real ones.

"Don't screw with me."

His usually congenial smile turned hard. "And don't _you_ take that tone with me. Helpful and tolerant as I have been, I am still Regent of this city."

The _power play_ card, so like a human. "You nearly killed me."

"I did all I could to save you."

"You were the one in charge of the experiment."

"I was under the Magistrate's command. He was watching every move I made."

Passing blame, the oldest trick in the book. Lucian was certainly playing his part well. "That's no excuse. You damn near killed me."

"If it weren't for my stepping in on your behalf, you would be dead."

They could go round and round on that topic for hours, and Mira knew neither of them would relent. "Fine... what happened is in the past." She flopped down on the couch with a frustrated sigh. "Tell me. What did you do with my blood?" Mira really hoped that she did not know the answer to that question.

"We used it... on a patient."

"To heal them?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Not exactly."

"And the result?"

Lucian eyed her suspiciously. "Inconclusive. Why? Should he have healed?"

Mira shook her head in response, trying to keep her face neutral. She didn't want to let on that she knew what was happening. The humans hadn't learned how to use vampire blood. Thank the gods! They couldn't have done it right if the results weren't immediate.

Lucian joined Mira on the couch. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Mira saw the battle going on behind his eyes – the mental struggle between conscience and status. Finally, after a few moments, he said, "I'm going to be straight with you, Mira. I really do want you to trust me, and I know nothing short of total honesty is going to do it."

She hadn't expected him to say that. But still, she had to keep her guard up. Pleasantly surprised, though, she was glad he was trying.

Lucian took a slow breath, preparing himself to spill the big secret. "What I am about to tell you is going to make you mad. Justifiably so. But please, let me explain before you pass judgment on me."

The sincerity in his voice was almost off-putting. "Why do you care what I think?"

"Because you're not what I expected. You're not what I was raised to believe. And... if that is wrong, then..."

"Then you're going to feel like a royal dick for going along with things for all these years?"

"Eloquently put. Yes."

"It _is_ a lie. When my kind came out in the open, we were not your enemies. It was you, and your people, who turned on us."

"That's not what our history books say, and no human is alive from that time period to say otherwise."

"And you've made sure any vampires that were old enough to remember were exterminated."

"Again... that is not what I was raised to believe. And that is why I care about you trusting me. You're proof of the lie."

Mira's bullshit meter was blaring in the back of her mind. He didn't care about her. He cared about appeasing his own conscience. "Okay, so what is it that you have to say that will make me mad?"

"It's no secret that the Magistrate loves the games."

"And so does the rest of the country."

"Regrettably so."

"Your point?"

"You vampires are a dying breed."

"Because you're making us kill each other."

"Well, when you're gone, more games will still be demanded..."

"So? Fight among yourselves."

"I agree. But..." Lucian appeared at a loss on how to continue.

Mira could see he knew the answer but didn't want to admit it, so she answered for him. "Humans just can't bear to watch humans get killed!"

Lucian's shoulders slumped. Uncharacteristic for a Regent. For a moment, Mira saw the vulnerable human behind the title and status. "They don't take it as well, no. So the Magistrate is introducing a new program to the Senate for approval. He's going to propose we turn prisoners in order to bolster the vampire population."

She'd known where things were heading before he said it, but to learn the extent of the plan was a whole new issue. Turning one or two humans was one thing – farming out prisons and creating cattle for the slaughter was just plain barbaric. And he, her Patron, the Regent of the city, had been going along with this plan the whole time? She wasn't sure what was more disturbing. "You can't be serious? How is that any different than humans killing humans?"

"New vampires are more savage. They would make for bloodier and more exciting battles...." He held up his hands fearfully. "The Magistrate's words, not mine!"

"That's what you were doing down in the prison that day. You thought you would check out the vampire stock and see who was fit for breeding?"

"No... well... not really. I wanted to see for myself what vampires were really like, how you live, that kind of thing."

"And, what did you see?"

"Never had I imagined it was so bad. And now to learn what you endure... I can't with good conscience let it continue."

She knew all of that 'trust me' stuff was bullshit. He didn't give a damn about her or her kind. He was just feeling guilty. But at least guilt was a starting point.

"So that's why my blood was taken. I was fit for breeding."

"I had to say something to prevent the Magistrate from having you executed. And your reputation for being a strong fighter helped."

Strength was only part of the equation, timing was the biggest part; but Mira was not about to let on. "You know, you humans have tried for years to get the secret of turning someone from us. Who told?"

"No one. We guessed that a full transfusion would work."

He was almost right. But it had to happen quickly. Mira assumed they tried to replace what they had taken over time. The tube leaving her body must have been going straight up to his. What they'd done was worse than torture to that poor bastard. A botched turning was not a pretty sight. His body would have literally destroyed itself from the inside out.

"I'm guessing by the repulsion in your eyes that we did it wrong."

"Has the patient died yet?"

"Last I saw, no."

"Kill him."

"I can't."

"He won't live anyway, but whatever time he has left will be in pure agony."

"Why? What did we do wrong?"

"That, I cannot say. I don't really know," she lied. "But if you had done it right, he would have transformed quickly."

"So how do we fix it?"

"You don't. He's a dead man. It's just a matter of time."

"The Magistrate will not be happy."

"Poor him." Still worried about what the Magistrate wanted and how he felt over the pain and suffering of others. Lucian's heart might have been heading in the right direction, but he was still an Elite. He had no real concept of how bad things were. And she was not sure he ever would, either.

"I didn't mean it to sound like that. The Magistrate... he'll demand we do it again and again until we do it right. If I don't bring results, he'll find someone else to do it."

"You can't. You're not a vampire."

"Then will you do it?"

"That's it, isn't it? You want me to trust you so that you can use me as you see fit. No. Hell no. I'd rather die than create more slaves for you."

"That's not what I am asking."

"Then what?"

"Help me."

"To do what, exactly?"

"To put a stop to this craziness."

That was not what she had expected him to say.

"You're the Regent. Do something Regent-like."

"No matter what I do, I am still beholden to the Magistrate."

"Is that what you're asking me to do? Kill him?"

Lucian put a finger to his lips. "I never said that."

"You did understand that I do not like to have to kill. I do it because you all force me to. And this is how you want me to help solve that problem – more death?"

"If you have a better suggestion, I'm all ears."

The com-link on Lucian's bracer beeped softly. "If you'll excuse me a moment." He stood and walked towards the adjoining room to answer the call.

For the briefest of moments, Mira wondered if killing the Magistrate would actually be enough to stop the madness. Probably not. Humans loved the games. The way they packed in the arena each week to watch, the way they screamed for death... They were more bloodthirsty than she had ever been in all her years as a vampire, even those first few years when she'd felt she would never be sated. No. Simply killing the Magistrate wouldn't solve anything.

"Damn it!" Lucian yelled as he returned.

"I'm guessing the patient did not make it."

"You knew that would happen."

"Yes. I told you, you did it wrong."

"Then how do I do it right? Wait. You know what? I don't want to know. I never wanted to be part of this project in the first place."

"Easier said than done, I assume."

"You don't know the half of it. He's furious. And will take it out on both of us."

"Why you?"

"Because I failed." There was no hiding the desperation in his voice. Mira caught it quite clearly and it perplexed her even more.

"But you're the Regent. Surely..."

"I'm replaceable."

"So am I. Welcome to my world."

"You see now why killing him might be our only choice?"

"Sure. We could do that. But what about the rest of the people who love the games? Will they just suddenly decide that vampires are people too? Especially after one kills their leader?"

"No. Especially when you put it like that." Lucian's eyes spoke of the sheer desperation he was feeling far more than his words did. It was almost heartbreaking.

"I agree things need to change, but the how of it is the part we need to work on. Much as I would love to spill his blood, it has to be done in a way that does not implicate my kind further."

"Agreed."

"But I don't know how to go about it."

"We'll have to think quickly. He returns to the capital city when these games are finished."

"I do my best thinking on a full stomach." Not entirely true, but Mira wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to get a few more rations.

"Of course. I'll be sure to send down extra rations for you... so you can be at full strength for your next battle."

So much for her rest. She should have expected it, though. Rest was not a luxury she could afford, high-ranking Patron or not. "And when would this be?"

"Magistrate's order. You're to appear again in the arena tomorrow."

"And would I be facing the infamous Mitchell again?" Glutton for punishment as she was, Mira wouldn't mind another chance to prove herself against that warrior.

"No, he's already bested you. You'll fight someone more your speed."

Mira's gaze turned dark. "I'm not quite sure how to take that."

"From where I sit, it's a good thing. Easy win for you. But the Magistrate wants to shame you for losing."

"And that means?"

"An unfair fight of course... from his perspective. But I know your abilities. Weaponless and armorless, you can still beat this guy."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, but the blood will do me more good than that."

"And what blood would suit you best?"

Dare she dream to taste what she truly desired? "Human. Hot, fresh, and straight from the vein."

She expected to see fear or revulsion in his eyes, but there was none. In fact, Mira had the sneaking suspicion that he might actually want her to drink from him. She decided to cut him off before he could say something so ridiculous.

"But... seeing as that is illegal here, and something I would never do to you, whatever you can scrounge up will be fine."

There was a hint of disappointment in his mossy eyes. They drooped slightly with sadness, yet his lips did not betray his feelings. Pulled tight over a clenched jaw, he appeared to be trying hard to remain neutral about the whole thing. "I'm sure I can come up with something suitable."

"Are we done here? Apparently I have training, if I'm to fight tomorrow."

"Be careful. Stay alive. And please, try not to get into trouble."

"Your concern is comforting."

Lucian led Mira to the door and placed the cuffs around her wrist. "We need to work together. I think you understand that. I cannot do anything for you if you're unwilling to work with me."

"I'll be on my best behavior." Mira gave him a toothy grin, flashing her sharp fangs.

"I'll bring you back here again soon."

The door opened and Mira's handlers, armed with UV torches, stood ready to receive her.

"Take me home boys!" Mira winked playfully. "Oh, sorry, one of you is a girl... I can never tell with those masks."

"Move it," the female handler grunted, and aimed her torch at Mira.

"Ta-ta, Regent. Let me know when you want seconds." Mira waved both her hands and headed down the hall to her cell.

Chapter 17

Mira walked slowly back towards her cell, casting sidelong glances at each of the other vampires imprisoned with her. Some she knew. Some she'd been jailed with for twenty-plus years and still didn't know their names. They were not in the same fighting class as she. And others she'd bested, but they'd been allowed to live. No matter who they were, they were all her kind. Vampires deserving of their freedom. Not cattle waiting for the slaughter. The thought of it sickened her. She herself was awaiting her fate in the next arena battle. Sure that the Magistrate had something special planned to shame her for her loss in the previous match as well as the failure of her blood in the experiment.

The idea of killing him was tempting, even if she hated to do it. And if she had the slightest inkling that it would do any good, she'd kill him in an instant. But even the death of that sorry sonofabitch would not aid her cause. Not while the rest of the human population felt as he did. There had to be a better way. Or at least some way to change things.

"Well?" George looked expectantly through the bars as she was tossed inside her cell.

"Well, what?" She didn't mean for it to come out so snippy, but her mood had turned sour.

George did a quick double-take to make sure the handlers were out of earshot. "Did you... talk to him?"

Mira hated the expectant look in George's eyes. Hated it because she had to crush that small inkling of hope he had. With a heavy sigh she said, "Yeah, he's not going to be much help. He doesn't like what's going on any more than we do. If you can believe that. But he's too far under the thumb to do anything about it."

"Oh." George's whole body seemed to slump. "And what about the experiment?"

"It's worse than what we were thinking. But it failed."

"Well, at least there's some good news. Wait... what do you mean, worse?"

Mira dropped her voice low. "Farming humans for new vampire stock. If their plan works, think of the never-ending carnage!"

Shock stole George's voice, but his thoughts were clearly written across his face.

"Yeah, that's how I feel too. I'm not giving up my plans for escape. I'm finding a way out. And I'm taking whoever I can with me. We all have to get out from under the humans' control."

"It's a fool's errand. We're all doomed."

"You're only saying that because no one has ever succeeded."

"Your optimism is refreshing, but face facts. You'll never do it. Not without inside help. And from the sound of things, even the Regent can't come up with a way to help you."

Mira flounced onto the old mattress on the floor. For all her skill in the arena, she was useless trapped inside the prison. Never a moment without guards threatening her with UV torches; never without someone's watchful eye on her. Even now, she was certain there were no less than two cameras monitoring the cells in her area. And then it struck her. She'd been so intent on fighting her way out of the system. "No... I don't need inside help."

"Sounds like you have something up your sleeve."

"If I were allowed to wear any." Mira laughed. "But I do have an idea. Not a good one, mind you, but better than nothing."

"And you're going to keep it a secret from your best friend over here."

"Exactly... so he doesn't try to talk me out of doing something stupid."

George shook his head. "I suppose it's for the best, but know I do not approve of whatever it is you have planned."

"Noted and forgotten. You can thank me when you're breathing fresh free air. Or forget me when I'm burned to death under the hot midday sun."

George let out a muffled growl of disapproval.

"Submission, inaction, apathy, and wishful thinking will never change things. We've tried all of those ideas. Now it's time for a new strategy."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm all for your freedom fighter crusade. I am. I just want to make sure you're around to enjoy the spoils of war with me."

"You're a good friend, George."

"And don't you forget it."

"How could I ever?"

Chapter 18

As the last fighter left in the stable, as usual, Mira waited to find out who her surprise opponent would be. She'd been brought out early and chained to a bench in the middle of the room to watch all of the other fighters come and go. Some had been heavily equipped, some wearing nothing but their linen tunics. It seemed today's fights were all about unexpected matches. Many of the vampires fighting had been from classes below her rank. And of the fights, none of the losers were spared. A pair of vampires would enter, but only one returned. Mira understood the same would be the result of her fight as well.

"No weapons today." The handler said as he removed the chain holding Mira to her seat.

"Sounds like fun," Mira smirked. She wished she could see the expression behind the helmet her handler wore, but she was sure he was smiling. No doubt he assumed she'd die today. Without a response, he led Mira to the arena door.

Tegan walked up beside her and the loading cage came down from the ceiling surrounding them.

Mira had not been given a weapon, but her opponent had. Things were not looking too good for her. The Magistrate had definitely stacked the deck on this fight.

"Hate to be the one to kill you," Tegan said, holding up his short sword.

"Hate to be the one to die," Mira responded, her voice monotone to conceal the swirling pit of emotions turning her stomach. She very well might die this time in the arena. Not from the fight, however. Tegan might have the upper hand, but she was the better fighter. No. Her worry came from the uncertainty of what she was about to do.

"Joking aside, I'm sorry. I may not like you, but you're a damn good fighter. I don't like being put in this position."

"Then don't be in this position."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"No more talking!" the handler shouted, and butted Mira in the back with his UV torch.

"And what will you do if I continue?" Mira couldn't help herself. If she was about to die, she was not going to do it kowtowing to the humans.

Before her handler could reprimand her, the door to the arena opened. Light flooded into the waiting area, momentarily blinding Mira with its brightness. She shielded her eyes, and so did Tegan.

"Inside – now," the handler said as he shoved at Mira, forcing her into the arena.

Tegan strolled in unaided. He lifted his arms and greeted the crowd, who cheered and screamed his name.

Mira, not wishing to play into any of the bullshit, strolled into the center of the arena and awaited the start of the fight.

The crowd around cheered and jeered. It was hard for Mira to make out exactly what they wanted. It seemed many were upset that she was not acknowledging them, while others seemed eager to get on with the match.

Tegan joined her in the center of the arena. "What's the matter with you today? Why aren't you playing the part?"

"I'm done with this bullshit."

"You're only done when they say you're done, and you know how that ends."

"I thought we were supposed to be the bloodthirsty ones."

Tegan snickered. "True."

"Do me a favor. Whatever happens here today, remember that we do not deserve this. Keep that thought close to you and remind the others."

"Wow, I didn't take you for the sentimental type."

"I'm not. That message was not meant to make you feel bad for me. Feel it for yourself, and do something about it."

"As if I could."

"When the time comes, you might get your chance."

He might not have understood what she meant, but at that moment, Tegan looked as if he really wished he was not the one about to fight Mira.

A horn blared sounding the start of the match. The crowd roared, and Tegan dropped into a fighting stance, his expression turning from confusion to one of steely concentration. "Good luck," he said earnestly.

"You as well." Mira stepped back and took on her own stance.

Tegan swung his sword hard in her direction, sweeping it just past the side of Mira's shoulder – a warning shot, meant more to thrill the audience than cause any panic in Mira. She wouldn't have feared him anyway. She'd beaten Tegan on more than one occasion on the training grounds. She easily dodged his attacks and kept herself just out of reach, defending but not attacking.

The crowd eventually caught on and began booing and hissing her name.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tegan said with a sweep of his sword again.

"I'm not playing the game anymore. I'm done."

"Then you force me to kill you. You know I don't want to do that. Just play along. Give them a good show. The Magistrate will see, and you'll get to live."

"No. That's what they want." Mira dodged yet another swing of Tegan's sword. "I'm not a dancing monkey. And neither are you. Remember that."

The crowd's displeasure must have become apparent to the Magistrate, who had been eagerly watching, no doubt hoping to see Mira fall.

A horn sounded, and Tegan, like a trained dog, dropped his sword.

"Why does the female not fight?" The Magistrate asked over the loud speaker. "Does she not wish to give her adoring fans a good show?"

"No, she doesn't!" Mira shouted back. "And this female has a name."

"This female should remember who her benefactors are. Your kind are a plague upon this earth. We graciously allow you shelter and... rations. In exchange for that, you are expected to do your part."

"Funny how you call blood 'rations' when it's fed to us, but consider it 'sport' when you force us to spill it for your entertainment."

"How dare you speak to me like this!"

"Mira, what the hell? Do you truly have a death wish?" Tegan said under his breath. "Don't piss off the Magistrate."

Mira finally acknowledged the crowd. "You all seem to forget that we, vampires, were once human. We were born human. Like you."

"You creatures are nothing like us." Anger more than annoyance turned the Magistrate's voice to pure acid.

Mira knew she'd signed her own death warrant, but she hoped that her message would get through to the masses. She couldn't fight the system. She was never going to be able to overcome those unsurmountable odds, but if she could make the system change, her death would not be in vain. "No. We never killed for sport. We only took what we needed to survive, and even then we had no need to murder the innocent."

"Your kind are hardly innocent." In his anger, the Magistrate had turned a visible shade of plum. He almost matched his robes.

"Says the man hoping to create more of my kind."

A collective gasp filled the arena.

Mira looked up, finding the nearest camera and stared straight into its lens. Her face filled the fifty-foot big screen and no doubt every other screen in the Iron Gate province. Viewers here as well as at home would hear her message. "That's right. Your illustrious leader has been secretly working to learn the method to creating more of my kind to slake your bloodlust in the arena. You call us savages, bloodthirsty, and creatures, yet you don't blink an eye when watching our kind die each and every week here in the arena. Soon, he'll be able to turn any one of you, and then force you into the arena."

With a heavy breath, the Magistrate attempted to calm himself before speaking, but his tone proved he'd failed to do so. "I've heard enough of this creature's fear-mongering and lies."

Lights shot down from the ceiling above. Mira found herself caged in the burning light.

"A quick death is too easy for her. I want her staked out in the center of town for all to see. She'll burn in morning light."

Mira smiled wide. "I welcome my end. At least then I will have peace." Things were working according to plan so far. She only hoped the second half of her crazy secret plan would work as well. Her Patron, man of power that he was, should come to her rescue before she was devoured by the sun; but even if she did end up a pile of ash in the morning's light, at least she had gotten the message out. That alone should be enough to start the wheels of change in motion. Surely the rest of the human population wasn't that brainwashed or brain-dead.

Five handlers came to retrieve her from the light cage, each one bearing a UV torch ready to use at a moment's notice.

"Take me away, boys." Mira held out her hands to be cuffed without a fight.

Tegan looked on, utterly confused.

"Remember. Someday it will be your turn to do something," Mira said as she was led away from the arena.

The crowd was in complete disarray. Exactly what Mira hoped for. Some couldn't care less about the vampires' plight – but others, people with a conscience, would begin to question their leadership. The seed had been sown.

Chapter 1 **9**

Stretched wide across a wooden table, arms and legs bound in thick silver chains, Mira was laid out like a beautiful offering to the sun. But her handlers were not finished with her yet.

To her left, she saw the sneering smile of her regular handler. She wished she knew his name, and more than that, she wished now she hadn't mouthed off so much to him. He looked positively thrilled as he held up a large silver-colored spike. With a heavy mallet, he drove the spike straight through her wrist.

Pain beyond reason flooded her body, but she dared not let out the scream threatening to explode from her throat. She would not give them that satisfaction. The second spike through her other wrist was harder to withstand, but again she bit back her cries of pain.

The third spike they drove straight into her chest. Not through her heart. No. They did not want to injure that organ and cause her to pass out; they wanted her to feel every moment of the punishment she had earned. In unbearable pain, she couldn't hold back the scream this time.

"Now, that's what I wanted to hear." The voice of the Magistrate preceded his stench for once. "You've caused me quite a bit of trouble. And in your arrogance, you thought you'd get away with it, didn't you?"

Even if Mira could have talked at that moment, she wouldn't have dared. There was no good in giving in to his goading.

"Fancy yourself a smart little vampire, eh? Thought you would incite a riot and escape in the confusion?"

He walked around her, admiring his minion's handiwork. "Spikes through the feet, too. I want her to be an amazing spectacle when we put her out in the town center for sunrise."

Mira braced herself for the pain that was about to come.

"If you vampires were half as smart as you think you are, you'd never have ended up as our slaves. If you cannot handle your lot in life, then you'll just have to be the example that keeps the others in line."

Mira felt her left leg being shifted and her foot being placed down onto the surface of the table. Moments later the spike pierced her skin and ran straight through her foot.

She couldn't hold back the cry. And as the second foot was nailed to the table, tears ran unchecked down the sides of her face.

"At least I will die knowing I did my part to change things." She spat the words at the Magistrate.

"No one will care about your death, or your parting words. You're just another vampire. But, come morning, you'll be a thrilling fireworks display."

Breathing through the agony, she spoke slowly, ensuring her words came out loud and clear. "Some care. And that look of fear you're trying to hide in your eyes tells me you know I'm right."

"A small problem. One that will soon be remedied." The Magistrate turned to one of the guards. "Bring in Lucian."

His was the last name Mira expected to hear.

Beaten and bloody, Lucian was brought in bound in irons, looking as if he were on death's door already.

"Ahh, Lucian, good of you to join us." He addressed his guard again. "Please find an appropriate place to put our former Regent."

"What's going on here?" Mira demanded. She'd actually hoped he'd be her savior. She'd counted on his status and position as Regent to ensure his safety and her own. Now it seemed both of them were going to be put to death, a fate she'd happily accept herself but not at the cost of his life, too. He was innocent...sort of. He'd helped her. He had told her of the Magistrate's plan. For all his attempts at good deeds, her actions had condemned him.

"Well, now, are we surprised to see our lover and informant?" The Magistrate laughed. "It has come to my attention, and will be made public knowledge, that our former Regent has been working on unethical experiments to try to increase the vampire population. This simply cannot happen. As Magistrate, it is my duty to punish such unlawful behavior and bring peace and safety to my people."

"And remove all links to your own involvement," Mira sneered. Everything, it seemed, had been all for naught. Both she and Lucian would be dead, and the Magistrate would spin new lies for the human population. Her stomach churned with the sour taste of failure and guilt.

"He's been sentenced to death right alongside of you, his cohort. When your body burns in the sun, he too will share in the experience. We'll have to help things along with a little fire of our own, but you shall both enjoy the same fitting end for your treason."

Lucian, barely conscious, grunted, but had no strength to struggle. He was secured to the rack alongside Mira.

"Wheel them out to the city center. I want cameras set up to catch the show come sunrise," the Magistrate said as he walked out of the room.

Chapter **20**

For the first time in years, Mira saw the stars. She hadn't been allowed outdoors since her capture. The fresh night air stung her already-ruined skin, but she welcomed its cold bite. Even the subtle scent of garbage clinging to the breeze was a welcome change from the musty dungeon air of her former prison. She savored each breath of unfiltered air, knowing they might well be her last.

The cart carrying her and Lucian stopped in what must have been the city center. Some men came out, handlers by the looks of them, too lightly armored to be regular soldiers. They made quick work of securing Mira and Lucian to their racks and connecting chains to the ground. The men unhitched the trailer that had been pulling them and drove away.

Silence, eerie and beautiful, surrounded them. Mira caught sight of a shooting star overhead. For all the beauty and magnificence of it, she could not enjoy it. She'd die not only a disgrace, but a failure too. Sacrificing her life and Lucian's for nothing. A foolhardy plan that had ultimately failed.

In a vain attempt to escape, Mira struggled against her restraints. The nails that had been driven through her limbs must have been coated in silver, as they burned relentlessly. For all her strength and willingness to rip off her own arm if necessary, she couldn't break free. She was well and truly screwed. There would be no hope of escape.

Lucian stirred. She heard him struggling against his restraints, but they'd been placed back to back, so she couldn't see him.

"You alive still?" she asked.

"Why?" His voice was barely a whisper, raspy and low.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I asked for you to get rid of him. This was your plan?" Even through the pain, Mira could hear the disappointment in Lucian's voice.

"I told you simply killing him would not solve the problem."

"And getting ourselves killed would?"

She couldn't blame him for his contempt. "Minor oversight. But the seeds of discontent have been sown."

"And will be forgotten by morning."

"Nah. They'll remember for at least a day," Mira tried to joke, but deep down she knew Lucian was right. "Sorry to have involved you in this. I was supposed to be the only one to die."

"The Magistrate had his suspicions the moment he knew I was Patron to a vampire."

"And you didn't even get to take advantage of all a Patron enjoys."

"Oh... I'd say you fucked me pretty good here."

"Well, now, things can't be all bad if you're making jokes." Mira would have laughed if she weren't in so much pain it took all she had to hold back the tears.

"We'll see. Can you move at all?"

"I'm kind of tied up here. Oh and nailed to the table."

"Sorry. I hoped your vampire strength would help us out here."

"So did I. Got any brilliant ideas?"

"Maybe."

"That's reassuring."

"I may have been branded a traitor, but I still have a friend or two."

"Let's hope you do. Dawn will be here soon enough, and I am really not looking forward to death by sunburn."

The dull thud of a rock hitting dirt nearby caught Mira's attention. That was no random falling stone. It hit too closely and too precisely to have just dropped on its own. She listened carefully. Footsteps, slow and quiet were coming closer to her. Another rock hit the dirt nearby.

"Is that you, Death?" Lucian said as loudly as he could manage with his raspy voice.

Another male voice responded, "Come to deliver you to the gates of hell."

"Friends?" Mira whispered cautiously.

"Yes."

Two humans arrived clad all in black. At first glance they appeared to be handlers, but Mira's eyes were better than that. These two were no trained soldiers, nor were their clothes the sleek black of a handler's armor. Their clothes weren't even armor at all, Mira saw as they came closer. They were far too simple for any formal uniform: long-sleeved shirts and pants, with what appeared to be dark hats pull low to cover their eyes. A male, the one who had responded to Lucian, came forward first, followed by a female whose face was completely covered. It was only the hint of flowery perfume that gave her away. Without a word, she immediately went to work removing the large spikes.

They hurt Mira more on the way out than they had going in, but knowing that silence was their ally, she kept herself as quiet as she could, whimpering only when the pain became too great.

When all the spikes had been removed, the man pulled out a pair of bolt cutters and made quick work of cutting the chains shackling her to the table.

"Get up and get moving, quick!" The male barked the order at Mira. "We need to move now." He shouldered the limp form of Lucian, and together with the help of his female companion, headed into the shadows.

Weak and woozy, Mira took a moment to gain her balance. Wobbling on unsteady legs, she followed as best as she could behind them.

Following back alleyways, they slowly weaved their way through the city towards what appeared to Mira to be a heavily residential area. Completely lined with rowhouses, the street was part of a well-planned-out community. Street lights were uniformly set every four houses. A small walkway separated the street from the concrete steps up to each two-story brick home. In front of every house was a clearly marked parking spot labeled with the number of the home to which it corresponded. It was almost too perfectly laid out. Like her prison, only a little bit nicer. For all its perfection, it lacked something. Not a single blade of grass nor tree nor bush anywhere. Perhaps more like her prison than she had first thought. It might look prettier, but it was no more inviting.

Just then, she spotted a blinking red light under one of the street lights. On second glance, she saw it was a camera.

"We're being watched."

"Don't worry about the cameras right now," the male responded. "The streets aren't closely monitored. Those cameras are fixed. Just keep to the shadows and don't stop moving."

Expecting to be heading away from the city, Mira couldn't help but feel they were traveling further inside it. "Where are we going?"

"The sun will be up soon. We won't be able to clear the city walls before that happens. You'll stay with me today, and we'll make our escape this evening," the male called out behind him.

Not what she'd hoped to hear. Spending another day inside the city walls was a dangerous proposition. No doubt their absence would be noticed and a manhunt would ensue, making any future attempts to leave doubly hard. But as she had no other option, she soldiered on, following as close to them as she could manage in her injured state.

They ducked inside a small doorway just off the alleyway, which led down a set of stairs to a large basement.

It was small and filled with all manner of human junk: old clothing, boxes, and shelves of god-only-knows-what. What it didn't have, thankfully, were visible windows. It wasn't much but that one fact alone made it a perfect sanctuary. Mira took a moment to catch her breath and acknowledge her rescuers. "Thank you."

"No offense to you, vampire," the male responded. He pulled his hat off and met her gaze straight on. "We did not do this for you. We're loyal to our Regent."

Strong words for someone who appeared so frail. The man was older than she'd expected. He'd shouldered Lucian and carried him for the better part of four miles, so she'd expected to see a young, strapping man of twenty or so. The man in front of her had to be at least double that, with a head of graying hair and dusky eyes surrounded by a face filled with wrinkles.

"Of course." Mira nodded. "As am I."

That seemed to smooth out any remaining tension with the male, who managed a smile. The woman, however, kept her face covered and stood well behind her partner. Mira couldn't help but feel she was using him as a shield.

Mira acknowledged her with a nod. "Thank you as well. You may not trust my kind, but you have my word I am in your debt."

The woman refused to respond.

After a brief awkward silence among the four of them, the male spoke up. "You'll stay here for the day." He opened up a hidden doorway in what Mira thought had just been a cluttered wall. It led to another small empty chamber. "You should be well hidden in here. Just remember to be silent. Not a peep until I return."

The man helped a barely conscious Lucian into the small room. Mira stood by, waiting for him to exit before going in to the small chamber herself.

"And how will I know it's you at the door?" As if his scent would not give him away.

"I'll speak the word 'gladiator'."

With that, he ushered them inside and closed the door.

Chapter 2 **1**

Mira lit a candle in the corner of the darkened chamber. As the light flooded the small room, Lucian grunted. Happy to see him somewhat alert, she sat down next to him. "So, do I ask how you orchestrated this?"

He adjusted his position, scooting up and leaning his back against the bare brick wall. "When I heard what you had said at the arena, I knew I would be taken into custody. The Magistrate had already commented on our... arrangement."

"So you had a lackey come rescue you?" She hadn't meant what she said to come out so bluntly.

"Don't you call him that! Curtis is a good friend and ally." The sudden vigor and aggression in his voice startled Mira.

"Well, by the looks of him, I would say he wasn't an Elite."

"No, but a better man you've never met."

"High praise."

"He's well worth it. He and his wife are risking everything by hiding us. You do realize that, don't you?"

"Why save me then, why not just yourself?"

"Because I care about you... your wellbeing, Mira. I put you in this position. I told you I wanted the Magistrate dead. I couldn't let you take the fall."

In all her years imprisoned in that damn place, she'd never been cared for. Not really. Sure, she'd been given enough care to keep her alive enough to perform in the arena, but that wasn't real care. Mira wasn't quite sure exactly how to feel about his revelation, let alone respond to Lucian's words.

She turned away, unable to look at him. "I was ready to meet my end."

"I know you were. And I would have been sad to see you go."

"You're a strange one, Lucian. Caring for a vampire." She knew it then; she could trust him. He'd more than earned it. Human though he was, he was not one of them, the bastards that had treated her so cruelly all her immortal life.

Lucian scooted up against the wall again, wincing as he moved.

"Are you badly hurt?"

"A few broken ribs, I'm sure, but nothing fatal."

"Maybe not now, but while we're on the run, you'll need to be at full health." Mira lifted her wrist to her mouth. Dried blood and healing scabs covered the spots where the spikes had been. Where the cuffs had slid up and down her skin, there were visible angry red hives. Still, though, she knew sharing her blood would help him. She could spare a few drops.

She bit into her wrist, hissing with pain as her teeth broke the skin, and then offered her blood to Lucian. "This will help you heal."

"No, I couldn't."

"Just a sip. Quickly now, before the wound seals itself."

Reluctantly, he took her offered wrist and put his mouth over the wound.

His tongue tickled her skin as he gingerly lapped at the wound. He grimaced, probably at the coppery flavor. Humans had no taste for blood. Why should they? Still, repulsed as she saw he was, Lucian did not pull away. He lightly suckled at the wound, swallowing a few small gulps before pushing her hand away, revulsion painted across his face.

"Thanks, I hope," he said, swallowing hard, trying to force down the last of the taste.

"It will help, trust me. Though you might want to lie down. You're bound to feel a little queasy."

He gripped his stomach and grimaced. "Thanks for the warning."

A gentle knock at the door caught their attention. Mira had not expected to hear from anyone until next nightfall.

"It's only me, gladiator," a male voice whispered. She recognized it as the man called Curtis.

Mira stood and opened the door.

Curtis entered with a small tray of food, bolt cutters, and some clean water and bandages. "It's not much at the moment, but this should help. The city is already abuzz with your escape. It's all over the news. Be sure to lie low and try not to make any noise, no matter what you hear. Only open this door if I or my wife speak the code word."

"Got it, thank you. Is there some way we can repay you?" Lucian asked.

"Seeing you out safely is repayment enough. You have a greater mission than I," Curtis said.

"Then it is not I you need to save, but Mira. She's the one with the mission." Lucian said.

"You both play your parts," Curtis replied, casting a quick glance at Mira before returning to Lucian. "And I will give my life to see you have the chance to play those parts."

"Let us hope it does not come to that," Lucian said.

"I'll be checking in on you when I can through the day. I'm afraid I cannot let you both out..."

"We appreciate your help and your protection. Thank you," Lucian said.

"I wish I could do more."

"You've already gone above and beyond," Lucian assured him.

Curtis nodded and turned toward the door. "I'll be back soon."

As soon as the lock clicked, Mira turned on Lucian. "Mission?"

"Just because the circumstances have changed does not mean I've given up on stopping the Magistrate." Lucian's voice had found its strength. Clearly her blood was working to mend him from the inside out.

"How exactly are we to do this on the run?"

"Once we're free and clear from the city, we'll have more time to plan. I don't have all the answers yet. Things haven't exactly worked out so far, have they?"

"That would be the understatement of the year. But I suppose we'd have a better chance killing him on the road than in the city. Still no guarantee we can pull it off."

"For now, our goal is to get out of the city and find some sanctuary to hole up in and regroup."

Sanctuary... Mira had long dreamed of finding sanctuary. It had been a place of legend when she and her group had sought it out, before her capture. Did it really and truly exist? Could she find it? The prospect of it was enticing. Yes, if they did manage to make it out of the city, she would certainly head in that direction.

"Mira?" Lucian sounded concerned.

"Yes, sorry. Just thinking."

"You looked as if you'd gone into a trance. What's on your mind?"

"Just wondering how we'll make it, that's all."

"One step at a time... but this time, let's be on the same page. No more of your half-baked ideas."

"Step one: You get some rest."

"Now, that's a plan I can agree with." Lucian's eyes were already half closed as he spoke.

Chapter 2 **2**

Three small raps against the door woke Mira. A soft voice, barely a whisper, came from behind it. Curtis. "There's someone at our front door. Soldiers."

"Right." Mira's eyes flew open. Instantly she was on alert.

"You two lock the door from the inside, and remember – do not open unless the code word has been spoken."

Mira did as she was told, bolting the door shut behind him. Outside, she heard scraping sounds, as if something heavy were being slid in front of the door. She turned and gently shook Lucian, holding a hand over his mouth in case he made any sounds. When his eyes opened, she put a finger to her lips warning him to remain silent.

Moments later there were raised voices. "Sir, this is completely unnecessary. Who on earth would harbor a vampire?"

"Magistrate's orders. All houses are to be checked."

Not sure how much of this he was hearing, Mira gave a warning look to Lucian. "Don't make a sound. Don't even breathe."

Outside, the voices grew louder. Male voices. Deep. Angry. One, maybe two or more. "What's behind here?"

"More shelving and tools," Curtis answered.

"What did you say your trade was again, sir?"

"Electrical repair."

"And this? What does this do?"

"Nothing. Those are just internal components for an old-fashioned radio. I like to collect these old relics."

"Do you have a permit for that com-link?" The soldier sounded annoyed.

"I... Uh.. That's one I'm repairing." Curtis sounded scared.

"You're not permitted to have that level of equipment in a residence like this. I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate that and bring you in for questioning."

"That link is the property of the Elite's office. Confiscate it if you will, but be sure it ends up back there or there'll be hell to pay. The Regent requested that be fixed ASAP specifically."

"What do you know of the Regent?"

"Just what my bosses tell me. He wants something fixed ASAP, I fix it. I need my job, just like the rest of you."

"The Regent has been taken out of office, did you know that?"

"No sir, been hard at work all night trying to make this damn thing work. What happened?"

"Really, you have no idea what has been happening?"

"Sorry, sir. I don't have the money for a screen of my own. I get my information the old-fashioned way. Newsprint. And, well, the morning paper isn't out yet."

He sounded so convincing, Mira almost believed him. But something told her the soldier wasn't buying it. Not sure of what to do, Mira continued to listen at the door.

"Clueless or not, you'll relinquish that com-link," the soldier ordered.

"Of course, sir. Please take it. I'd hate to be tied into any of this bad business with the Regent."

"Smart man." The soldier's tone had turned from annoyed to almost friendly. "Don't let me catch you with unauthorized tech again."

"No, sir. I'll make sure my paperwork is in order for any take-home projects from now on."

Mira breathed a sigh of relief hearing the footsteps of the soldier going up the wooden steps.

"One minute." The soldier said. His footsteps halted on the stairs. "What is that light?"

Mira's heart stopped. She rushed to snuff out the candle.

"I have many lights down here. I need clear vision when I work," Curtis said.

"No. There was a crack in the wall and light behind it," the soldier said.

"These old places aren't built as well as your housing. I'm sure it was just sunlight on the outside of the wall, or maybe even the home next door's light."

"Out of my way." The soldier's footsteps came heavy down the stairs again.

"You ready for a fight?" Mira whispered to Lucian. "We're about to have company.

"Ready as I can be." Lucian stood.

"Stay a few feet behind me. It sounds like there's only one. I'll drag him in here and take care of him. If there are others, though, we might have a problem."

The sound of metal scraping against concrete told Mira the soldier had found the door. "Open this now."

Mira waited with bated breath. She didn't like having to kill, but this one was forcing the issue, and she needed the blood.

The soldier yanked the door open, but before he could utter a word Mira had him by the throat. She sank her fangs in deep and drank her fill. Hot, fresh, human blood. Such a delicacy. Mira had not savored that sweet nectar of life in ages. She gulped greedily, oblivious to the revulsion of those around her.

Nothing existed for that moment, just her and the soldier, his beating heart music to her ears. It pumped hard and fast – hot blood flooding into her waiting mouth.

Every ache, every pain erased. The heat from his fresh blood infused her body, restoring her strength and filling her with new vigor.

She barely heard the sounds of more footsteps coming down the stairs. The small click and charge-up sound of the UV torch should have immediately registered on her, but it wasn't until the full blast of white-hot light caught her straight in the face that she dropped her quarry.

Hands up to shield her eyes, Mira shrank back against the wall.

"Lucian Stavros, you are under arrest by order of the Magistrate," a new soldier called out. Mira couldn't see. The soldier kept the UV torch on full blast aimed right at her face. "Slave 8254-A, you are to be eliminated on sight."

"Thanks for the warning, but how do you expect to do all that?" Mira laughed. She couldn't help herself. She couldn't see him, but by the sound of it, there was only one person in the room. He had to be armed, but he was concentrating on keeping that torch on her face, which meant he couldn't grab for any other weapons. If she could just get past the pain, she'd be able take him.

"Silence, slave. You'll remain here until backup has arrived."

"You really think you'll live long enough to see your precious backup?" Shielding herself as best she could, Mira took a step forward.

"I said stay where you are!" The soldier held firm to his UV torch, but the warble in his voice told Mira she was correct. He was alone, and she could take him.

Mira's skin blistered under the harsh light. Small bits of skin flaked off, stinging and smelling of singed flesh. She'd dealt with this before, in the lightbox; knew this pain well. All she had to do was fight past it and she could have him by the throat.

"Lucian, are you up and moving?" Mira asked.

"Right here."

"Does the soldier have any weapons on you?"

"He has a small gun aimed at my chest, yes, and the torch in his other hand."

"Get behind me."

She felt the small breeze of his movement behind her. Hoping she'd be cover enough, she lunged forward blindly. A shot went off. Hot metal seared its way through her body, but that pain was minimal compared to the blistering heat of the UV torch. She met it dead on, flailing her arms to try to knock it out of the way. Her body collided with the soft yet taut flesh of a younger man. She hoped he was the soldier. They toppled down to the ground together. Baring her fangs, she sank them into the first bit of naked flesh she could find.

The soldier wailed with pain and struggled to get out from her grasp.

Mira locked on to him with all her might, wrapping her arms and legs around his body and rolling around on the floor with him, all the while keeping her teeth firmly entrenched in his hot flesh.

She gorged herself on more blood than she'd had in the last thirty years, savoring her gluttony. There would be no telling when she'd be able to enjoy such a bountiful feast again, and given her wounds, she needed the healing blood to keep her at full strength.

When she rose, Mira met the uneasy stares of Curtis, Lucian, and the obviously upset wife.

"Sarah, honey. Why don't you run back upstairs and get us some towels and things to clean this mess up, okay?" Curtis was visibly shaken, but still managed to meet Mira's eyes as he spoke to her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. My wounds will heal fast. Are you and Lucian unharmed?"

Lucian knelt down beside Mira. Blood bloomed across his shirt, flowing out from the tip of his shoulder. "I'm okay. Just a scratch, I think."

"We better take a peek at it. Just in case." Mira turned to Curtis. "Have your wife get some first aid supplies."

"I'll see what we have," Curtis said, and headed back up the stairs.

"Hurry. We don't have much time. And if he did call for backup, they'll be here in moments."

"We have another problem too. The sun is still up." Lucian said.

"That's only a problem for me. You all can get out at any time," Mira said.

"No. We have to stick together."

"Not if separating keeps us alive."

"I won't hear of it. Separate, we are vulnerable. Together, we can use each other's resources to survive."

"Well, my resources are limited when daylight is involved, and as much as I would love to sit here and drink my fill, I can't keep killing soldiers all day. Think of my girlish figure."

"Did you actually attempt to be funny in your own snarky little way?" Lucian let out a snort of laughter.

"It happens occasionally."

Curtis returned with a small first aid kit. "We don't have much here. Hope some of it is useful."

Mira opened the small metal container. It had little more than a few bandages and a half-empty bottle of alcohol. "We'll just have to make do."

Lucian pulled off his shirt, wincing with pain where the fabric ripped at his skin.

"Looks bloody, but I don't think the bullet is in your shoulder."

"Just a scratch, then?"

"I'll need to clean it to be sure." Without hesitation, she dumped the bottle of alcohol onto his wound.

Lucian let out a howl of pain. Mira quickly silenced him with her hand across his mouth. "You want to alert the whole city?"

Panting with pain, Lucian replied, "Sorry, I wasn't prepared..."

"Just shut up." She inspected the wound. It bled like it would never stop, but she didn't see any type of fragments embedded inside.

"I'm not a warrior like you," Lucian said apologetically.

"I know." Mira had lived a life of pain. It was hard for her to understand that others might not have the same tolerance. "I'm going to give you more blood. I need you to heal quickly, okay?"

The expression on Lucian's face was one of deep revulsion, but he did not speak a word in protest. He took a deep breath, and when she offered her cut wrist again, he took it without hesitation.

Mira smiled inwardly, watching him feed from her arm. He might not be a warrior, but he certainly was a survivor. A do-whatever-it-takes kind of guy. That she could appreciate.

Sarah came down the stairs with a bucket of sanitizer water and towels. "I couldn't find any plastic bags to wrap them..." Her words cut off when she caught sight of Lucian feeding from Mira. "What the hell?"

"He was injured. This will help him heal fast," Mira explained simply. There was no time for making nice about it.

"Stop that this instant. Do you want to become like her?" she chided Lucian.

"Sarah, honey..." Curtis said.

"No. It's bad enough she got us into this mess. Now she's trying to change him."

"I assure you, that is not the case." Mira started to defend herself, but decided it was not worth her time. If a person hated her, there was nothing she could really do to stop them. Humans were often too short-sighted as it was.

"I want to be rid of you... the sooner the better." Her contempt was obvious, yet other than her words, she made no further attempt to push the matter.

"Me too," Mira agreed.

Sarah huffed and went to work cleaning

Lucian pulled away from Mira's offered wrist. He gagged and spat up some of the blood he'd drunk.

"Hold still," Mira ordered. "I need to make sure it's working."

She inspected the wound. The bleeding, thankfully, had slowed to a trickle. He'd heal soon enough, but that still left them with a problem. How were they going to get out together... and alive?

"Strip them down," Lucian said, indicating the fallen soldiers.

Mira arched an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Their uniforms are Kevlar. That will provide us with some additional protection we might need."

Smart idea. Mira nodded and went to work removing the clothes from the soldier she had just killed. His communicator bracer began to beep when she tried to unfasten it. "Sanders. Report," came a voice through the communicator's small speaker.

Mira looked to Lucian and attempted with only her eyes to ask him what to do. Her first instinct was to smash it, but she'd never been allowed close to any kind of modern technology and wasn't sure if it might be useful in some way.

The communicator beeped again. "Sanders, do you copy?"

Curtis stepped up and grabbed the dead soldier's arm, ripping the communicator off. He fiddled with the buttons on the communicator, but by the anxious look on his face, was not getting the result he wanted. Finally, after the third time the person on the other side called for Sanders, Curtis pulled a sharp tool from his workbench and stabbed at it a few times. Strange screeches and electric pops finally ended the communication.

"What did you do that for?" Mira asked.

"Assuming it had a tracking beacon, I'd say we bought ourselves a little time," Curtis responded.

"Right. Good thinking. How much longer until sunset?" Mira asked.

"Little more than an hour, I'd say." Curtis tossed his tool back on the workbench.

"Tracking beacon or not, they'll know the last location of that soldier before he went missing. I doubt we bought ourselves any additional time." Lucian's tone was somber. "Don't forget the other one. We'll need to disable his com-link as well."

"Aye," Curtis said, retrieving his tool, and headed over to the other dead soldier. "Then we'll have to leave sooner rather than later."

"Mira, how long can you be in sunlight?" Lucian asked.

"Direct light? Not long. Even if the light wasn't touching my skin, it would still affect my vision. Too much light is blinding."

"What about sunshields or lenses? That soldier might have had a helmet. Sarah, can you run out and check if they had a transport?"

Sarah looked up from her scrubbing and sneered at Mira, as if it were her fault she could not handle the sun. "Anything to be away from that." If glares could kill, Mira would have been six feet under by now.

Mira did her best to ignore Sarah. "A helmet with a sunshade might help in indirect light; not sure how much, though. It really depends on how much light it filters out."

"Well, it's better than nothing," Lucian said. "Curtis, do you have transport or a vehicle of any kind?"

"Sorry, sir, I'm not affluent enough to own anything like that."

"Do you have any friends who would let you borrow one?" Lucian asked.

"Not on short notice."

"On foot, through a city guarded by hundreds of soldiers looking to kill us. Sounds like a great time." Mira's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Don't forget with a blind vampire too," Lucian added.

"That's the spirit." Hopeless as their situation was, Mira had to appreciate Lucian's attempt at a joke.

"No transport outside or nearby," Sarah called from the top of the stairs.

"That makes things difficult," Lucian sighed.

"Yeah, and no helmet either," Mira said.

"We'll just have to make do. Curtis, you have any sunglasses?" Lucian asked.

Curtis finished stripping down the soldier and tossed the clothes in a heap in front of Lucian. "I'm sure I can scrounge up a pair."

"Good. Please hurry," Lucian said. "Mira, you'll probably fit in the smaller uniform." He nudged the pile of heavy clothes toward her. "The boots will be big. Just try to make them work for now. We need to look as much of the part as we can."

"You have a plan beyond impersonating a soldier?"

"No. That's pretty much it. We just need to blend in for an hour or so until sunset. We can better do that in uniform, patrolling the streets, than running like a pair of fugitives, right?"

"Hide in plain sight, sure. It's simple enough it might just work." Mira was impressed, but skeptical. "But what do we do with the bodies? We can't leave them here. Curtis and Sarah will be implicated."

"They'll have to come with us. We'll escort them around under the guise of taking them back to central command."

Mira wanted to argue against bringing the other humans along. The longer they stayed together, the more danger they would be in. But she saw no other way around it. There was no time to properly dispose of the bodies, and two dead soldiers in their home, no matter the reason why, would be a death sentence for this couple.

Mira finished pulling on the soldier's uniform. It hung loosely on her shoulders and was baggy throughout. She hoped no one would pay too close attention, because she was obviously not a soldier.

Sarah came downstairs. "Here. Let me help with your hair." She grabbed some oil from Curtis's work bench and used it to slick back Mira's short dark hair. "This will make you look more like a man."

Surprised at the gesture, Mira's voice caught in her throat as she tried to thank the perplexing woman.

"Save your thanks," Sarah said with all the spite and vitriol she'd shown earlier. "I'm doing this as much for myself as I am for you."

That was more of what she expected. "I appreciate the honesty." Mira truly did. She understood the human's revulsion at her species, but the fact that she was not letting blind hatred color her actions earned some respect.

Sarah finished with Mira's hair and handed her a pair of large-lens sun glasses. "It's the best we've got here."

"It'll have to do."

Dressed and ready, Lucian cautiously opened the door and looked outside. In the distance sirens had started. The other soldiers were on their way.

Lucian looked back. "I'll take Sarah, you take Curtis," he said to Mira. "Make it look like you're taking them in for questioning. Like this." He grabbed hold of Sarah's upper arm and tugged her forward. "Walk slowly and keep your head down, okay?"

Sarah nodded.

Mira reached out cautiously to Curtis, more for his comfort than her own apprehension. He may have seemed comfortable around her, but it was wholly another thing to be in the clutches of a predator. "Why don't you take the lead? I'll be a bit blind, so you'll have to guide me."

Looking as if he were steeling his courage, Curtis nodded and held out his arm for Mira to hold.

"Let's move out," Lucian ordered. He held his gun in one hand, pointed toward Sarah, and guided her forward with his other hand around her arm.

Mira winced as she followed through the door. Even though the cloud cover was in her favor, the light filtering though her sunglasses from the overcast sky was still annoyingly bright. She paused at the threshold and took a breath, looking down to the ground to try to allow her eyes to adjust and focus.

"Are you going to be able to do this?" Curtis asked, sounding surprisingly concerned.

"I always do what I must to survive. It is the way of my people."

"Vampires?"

"Gladiators." She let the weight of the word sink in. "This light is harsh, but a full blast from a UV torch is a bit more powerful."

"Enough talk, let's move," Lucian called back from the street.

Mira didn't want to admit it, but there was something about the way he sounded, when giving orders, that really connected with her. "Go." She nodded stiffly and let Curtis set their pace.

Sirens were closer now. A block away, if Mira's guess was right. Unable to really see where they were going and what was around, Mira tried to recall what she'd seen on their run the previous night. "We need to find a way off the main roads. What's behind these rowhouses?"

"There's an alleyway for trash collection and utilities," Curtis responded.

"Utilities... what about sewer?"

"Nowhere to access the tunnels back there, if that's what you're after. You'd be better off finding a street hatch."

"If we can get off high traffic roads and locate one, we might just have a way out," Mira said.

A large armored vehicle pulled up alongside of the road, its siren blaring.

"You there," a soldier called out from the passenger window. "What are you doing?"

Lucian stepped forward pulling Sarah roughly with him and pulled his sidearm. He pressed the gun to Sarah's side. "Caught these two escaping from a house about a block over."

The soldier pulled up an address on his dash-mounted screen. "2857 Stonebend?"

"That's the one. But I wouldn't get too close. This one here rigged some kind of EMP." Lucian lifted his arm, showing off his non-functioning bracer. "Knocked out our com-links. Couldn't radio in. We're going to take these two in to command."

"Need a lift?"

"Nah. There are two dead bodies in the basement of that old house. Someone's going to have to get in there and get a cleanup crew going. Why don't you radio that in? Word is they were harboring the fugitives. I'd say they made a break for it and are probably roaming the streets as we speak."

"Roger that."

"Let them know we're coming in on foot with two prisoners, too," Lucian added.

As the large transport began to pull away, Mira breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone more smoothly than she could have hoped for. And Lucian, the way he talked, with such command – his Elite side was definitely showing through. She began to think they might actually pull this off.

They continued on, Mira moving slowly behind, concentrating on every step, the light burning her eyes. The sound of tires screeching caught her attention. Then a shot was fired from behind. She turned and tried to focus on the transport. Either it was growing larger, or it was heading back in her direction.

"Shit! Time for plan B. Get down!" Mira shouted.

The transport came to a screeching halt next to them. Three soldiers inside had guns trained on them. "On second thought. Why don't you all come quietly with us?" One of the soldiers slid open the side door. Still pointing his gun, he nodded at Lucian. "You and the girl first."

"Ladies always go first." Using a burst of her supernatural speed, Mira jumped the soldier and in one smooth motion snapped his neck. One of the other soldiers in the vehicle shot at her blindly. She felt the sting of the heated metal piercing her flesh, but would not let it deter her from her mission. She snapped the driver's neck and then ripped away the gun from the last soldier. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this." She lunged at him, ripping away his Kevlar body armor like tissue paper, and sank her teeth into his tender flesh.

"Now we have transportation to get us where we need. I say we take this baby and ram it through the front gates." Flushed full of adrenaline-soaked blood, Mira was ready for another fight. She felt like she could take on all the soldiers in the city.

"We'll do that... but on a smaller scale," Lucian replied. "I know every entrance and exit in the city. We'll want to hit the least likely one to bring attention. One only Elites are allowed to use." He winked and took the driver seat. "Get in, you two," he called back to Curtis and Sarah.

The sweet coppery tang of blood caught Mira's attention. More than there should be in the air. She looked back to find the horrified, struggling Sarah trying her best to lift Curtis off the ground. Blood pooled beneath his body. His face had gone dangerously pale.

Mira jumped out of the car and helped Sarah lift him. The scent of his freshly spilled blood tempted her, especially being so close to it. She could lap it up off the ground and enjoy every last drop, but her concern for their situation and the urgency of their need to move kept her riveted to the task at hand. "Get him inside. I'll try my best to heal him."

Curtis moaned weakly, barely audible even with Mira's enhanced hearing, as they pulled him inside the vehicle. This didn't look good. Mira feared he might be too far gone. The desperation in Sarah's eyes made that thought ten times worse. They were the ones risking their human, mortal lives for her, a slave.

No, she couldn't let him die. Mira ripped open Curtis's shirt to inspect his wound.

"What are we waiting for? Drive!" Mira shouted to Lucian.

"Where to?"

"Anywhere, just get us out of here now."

Lucian put the vehicle into gear. It lurched forward, and Mira turned her attention to Curtis.

"Will he be all right?" Sarah was frantic. She hovered over her husband.

Mira tried to push her back. "I'll give him my blood. It should help jumpstart his body's natural healing."

"Should?"

Mira didn't have to look up to know the fright that would be written all over Sarah's face. She did her best to give her an honest reply, though, not wanting to deliver false hope, but not wanting to scare her further. "It's not an exact science. It really depends on how much blood he's lost, and how bad the wounds are. I don't know if the bullet is still in his body or not."

"Just help him!" Sarah demanded.

Mira ripped open her wrist and held it to Curtis's mouth. Moments before, when she had done this to help Lucian, Sarah had practically condemned her; but now that the tables were turned, she didn't care what happened. Sarah just wanted her husband to be okay.

Curtis wasn't swallowing. His breathing was deathly shallow. Mira massaged his throat to help encourage him to swallow as his mouth filled with her blood.

With her free hand she prodded the wound, inspecting it but also hoping to get a response from Curtis. Anything, even a pain response would be good at this moment. He was too close to death, and Mira desperately wanted to see him live.

The bullet must have passed through her and hit him in the chest. She guessed it still remained. Depending on how far gone he was, her blood might not make any difference at all. If the bullet had hit a vital organ, there might be no hope. The good news – if you could call it that – was that there was blood on Curtis's back as well. If the bullet had passed directly through him, it might be his saving grace. If she could get the bastard to swallow. This man had risked everything to save her and Lucian. He did not deserve this as his fate.

"Drink, damn you!" She slammed a fist against his chest. "Wake up and drink!"

"Stop that, you'll hurt him!" Sarah shrieked.

"Do you know CPR?" Mira asked.

"Yes. Do you want me to do chest compressions?"

Mira listened for a moment for the sounds of his breathing, and the faint thump of his heart. Even with her enhanced hearing, both were scarcely audible. "His heart is barely beating.... Yes."

"But your blood is supposed to heal him!" Panic stole Sarah's voice.

"It will.... One way or another," Mira said somberly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sarah shot back at her angrily.

"I'm trying to save him—"

"You're not trying hard enough. Do you even want to save him?"

Mira had to rein in her annoyance. Sarah's husband was on the brink of death; it was understandable for her to be a little snippy. At least, that's what she told herself to avoid snapping the human's neck for daring to challenge her.

"Just start pumping his chest," she said through clenched teeth.

She reopened the wound that had closed in her wrist and again flooded Curtis's mouth with her blood. "Drink, you bastard!" She rubbed his Adam's apple and massaged his throat while Sarah went to work thrusting hard on his chest. Curtis's rib cracked under the pressure, and Sarah jumped back off him.

"That's normal, and my blood will heal the broken rib. Just keep up compressions. I need his blood pumping, no matter how slow."

Thankfully, Sarah did not argue this time. Steel-faced, she went back to her task, pumping hard at her husband's chest.

Mira was beginning to lose hope, until finally, Curtis swallowed on his own. She ripped open the wound again at her wrist and forced it hard down on his mouth. "That's it. Drink up!"

Sarah must have understood the relief in Mira's voice. She relaxed her arms and stopped pressing on his chest. "C'mon, my darling." The sensitivity in her voice touched Mira on a level she hadn't known in a long time. This was love. Something she had long been denied, but was still alive in this world.

Curtis swallowed on his own; and again. Slowly, color came back to his cheeks. He groaned and tried to lift his arms.

"Easy there, friend. You're not out of the woods yet," Mira cautioned.

"You did it!" Sarah practically squealed with delight as she flung herself on top of Curtis, squeezing him tightly against her.

Mira let out a small sigh. "He appears to be conscious, but I wouldn't say he's saved yet. I need to get a better look at his wounds, make sure they are healing."

Curtis tried to move again and winced in pain.

"Don't try to be the tough guy here. Just relax," Mira cautioned again, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder to emphasize her point.

"Look sharp, people," Lucian called from the driver seat. "The city gates are up ahead. We're going to need some help up here."

"He's going to be fine," Mira said to Sarah. "I can't do any more for him now."

"You've done enough. Now, go see what Lucian needs."

Mira smiled at the human ordering her around. "Yes, Ma'am," she said playfully, and then turned and headed up to the driver's seat. "What's the situation?"

One hand on the wheel, Lucian pointed straight ahead with the other. "There are a few more soldiers guarding the gate than I had anticipated."

Mira stood and peered out of the front windshield. The sun hadn't quite set yet, but was low enough in the horizon to be blocked by taller buildings. Ahead, she spotted a large blockade. Four tank-like vehicles, similar to the one they were driving, flanked a narrow gated road. Armed soldiers stood in front of the gate, weapons raised and ready to shoot.

"This thing have any weaponry?" Mira asked.

"Roof-mounted gun, I believe."

Mira looked up and spotted a roof hatch above where Sarah and Curtis were sitting. She didn't want to have to expose herself, but there was no other way. She could take a few gunshots better than the humans. Before anyone could utter another word, she flipped open the hatch and took to the roof.

No words were needed; Lucian and Mira were on the same wavelength. There was no way to get through the blockade except straight ahead, at full speed. Lucian pressed the accelerator as Mira began to fire blindly at the soldiers blocking their path.

She barely felt the first few bullets pierce her skin – it was the sting of sun's bright light, even at this late hour, that had Mira gritting her teeth to stop the scream from tearing up her throat. She focused all of her energy on enduring and keeping her weapon firing as they barreled through the road blocks and rolled over bodies in the street.

They smashed through the gate with ease, Mira ducking down to avoid the flying splinters of wood as they continued through.

Even with the city walls behind them, Mira could still hear shots being fired and the shouting of soldiers. The rumble of tanks told her, without having to look, that this fight was far from over.

Mira ducked her head down into the vehicle. "Can we outrun them?"

"In the city, we could out-maneuver them; on the open road, doubtful." Lucian sounded worried.

"Do what you can, then. I'll try my best to hold them off."

She resumed her place, swiveling the gun around, pointing at what she hoped was the tanks behind them. The sun's light was still too bright to allow her to focus well enough to be sure.

She fired off a few rounds, but heard no sound of ricochet. In return, a pursuing tank fired, narrowly missing her. The sound of the racing bullet broke the air next to her cheek. A few inches to the left and she might have been done for. She could well be immortal, but that did not make her invincible. "I need some eyes here," Mira shouted. "I can't see a damn thing."

Another shot whizzed past her head, parting her hair. "Now!" she screamed, and fired back blindly at the vehicle behind her.

Sarah's head popped up next to her. "Left," she called.

Mira inched the barrel of the gun over to the left and fired another shot.

"Down just a hair," Sarah instructed.

Mira moved accordingly and fired again. This time she was rewarded by the sound of breaking glass.

"Now, quick right," Sarah instructed again.

Mira adjusted and fired. Again she heard her shots connect, this time clanging off metal. "Did I get one?"

"We knocked one of them off course for the moment. Broken windshield. But you still have another one on our tail. Move to the left again."

The vehicle behind fired. Sarah ducked down, pulling Mira with her. Bullets whizzed past again.

"They're still right on us!" Lucian shouted.

"I'm working on it," Mira snapped back at him. She stood again, taking hold of the gun and blasting off a few more blind rounds at the vehicles behind her.

Sarah stood with her and directed again. Together they worked, slowly aiming and adjusting until one of Mira's bullets actually hit a human target. She wasn't able to see it, but she heard the moaning yelp as a bullet took out one of the soldiers.

The sun was sinking lower, and Mira was starting to be able to make out her targets. She aimed to take out the windshield of the vehicle directly behind them. A few well-placed shots shattered the thick glass enough to prevent the driver from seeing. They were forced off course, leaving only one vehicle in pursuit. This one appeared to be lacking a gunman. Its window smashed, Mira looked for the right spot to shoot.

"Slow it down just a bit," she called back to Lucian.

The vehicle slowed and the pursuing soldiers quickly gained on them. Mira squinted, aiming her gun carefully. She squeezed off a few shots, missing her target. They slowed and backed off, cutting across to the other side of their vehicle.

"Damn the sun!" Mira cursed for missing such an easy shot. "Hit the brakes, make them catch up again," she called back to her driver.

This time she would not fail. She took aim, watching, adjusting as the other vehicle came suddenly closer. When they were directly behind again, she fired.

This time her shot hit the mark. The other vehicle came to a dead stop.

"That's it, gun it!" she called back to Lucian. "We're in the clear. Drive."

Breathing a well-earned sigh of relief, Mira ducked back into the cabin of her transport. "We did it."

"Great. Now what?" Lucian's hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly Mira wondered if he might break it off.

"What do you mean, now what?" Mira asked. "We're in the clear. You can relax a bit."

"Where do we go from here?" Lucian wasn't letting his guard down that easy. White-knuckled, he continued to stare straight ahead and left his foot planted on the pedal of the vehicle.

Good question... Mira wasn't exactly sure. "Just keep driving west for now, I guess." She'd never actually made it to the safe haven. Never knew its exact location either, only that it was off the coast in the badlands once known as California. If it didn't exist, they were on yet another fool's errand; but if it did, she might actually finally get the freedom she so truly desired. Then, she'd work on a way to end the Magistrate and share that precious freedom with her other imprisoned friends.

So much was riding on this, she almost dared not hope that it truly existed.

Available now

Complication

Book 2

Chronicles of the Uprising

Narrowly escaping death at the hands of the Magistrate, Mira travels west, toward the coast. With three weakened human fugitives accompanying her, she searches for the mythical land of Sanctuary.

After encountering a pack of wolf shifters, headed by the charismatic—and brazen—Stryker, Mira learns that Sanctuary is real after all. Caldera Grove: home of the Otherkin. Hidden in the mouth of a dormant volcano, it has protected its residents from humans since the early days following the great cataclysm. For Mira— a vampire— Caldera Grove is a land of peace; an escape from the relentless persecution of the humans who once enslaved her, and an end to the daily struggle and bloodshed of being a gladiator.

For the humans accompanying her, Caldera Grove means death. Humans, greedy and untrustworthy creatures, are destroyed before they can penetrate its borders.

To plead her case for entry into Caldera, Mira must abandon her companions, albeit temporarily, and follow Stryker into the heart of the city. What she finds within Caldera Grove presents her with an unenviable decision between her own desires for freedom and peace, or honor and the human companions who risked it all for her.

Complication

Sample Chapter 1

Thousands of twinkling stars lit the night sky above, a glorious sight Mira had not seen in more years than she could count. Their majesty stole the breath from her chest. Night called her like a siren's song both familiar and strange. Imprisoned deep under the ground as she'd been all those long years, not even allowed to smell the crispness of night air, the melody had long since been forgotten but never truly lost. More than a delicacy, it called forth primal urges, reaching some long-repressed savage part of her. It was all Mira could do not to pull the vehicle over and take off into the wild, but the trio of humans riding along with her, escaping to safety, needed her to remain on task.

Eyes riveted to the rugged landscape behind them, Mira screened the horizon for any signs of pursuit. The badlands—a mix of ruined forest and parched hard-packed dirt—stretched out as far as the eye could see. Regular monsoon flooding had made the land tough and treacherous. Their transport, not equipped for off-roading, jolted and rocked, banged and bumped as it sped on between gnarled trees and mountainous boulders.

Hours had passed since their daring escape from New Haven city behind the Iron Gate walls, one of the eight human city-states and the westernmost point of the Northern continent. Though there had been no sign of their vehicle being followed, Mira was not yet ready to stop for a break. She had no clue of the capability and reach of the humans beyond their city walls. The last thing she wanted was to give in to fatigue too soon and end up right back where she started... in prison.

Painful memories drove her to her task. Thirty long years she'd been enslaved; thirty years of torture, pain, violence, and bloodshed... all of it under the orders of her human masters. Olivia's face flashed through her mind. Her former owner. If she'd only had the opportunity to pay the pampered princess back for the vile things she'd had endured. The things she'd been forced to do. Countless vampires she'd been forced to kill. Cold dead eyes of numerous victims haunted her dreams, and probably would for the rest of her immortal life.

Killing had been her way of life. Survival. Kill or be killed. As a gladiator, there was no middle ground. In the arena, by order of her masters, she'd sent so many others to early graves. It was enough to make her hungry for revenge on all members of the so-called human race. The lot of them were untrustworthy, greedy, vengeful, lying bastards.

Mira shot a heated glance toward Lucian. Human. Former Regent. One who had, in the past, ordered the death of many of her kind. At a single turn of his thumb she herself had been forced to end the lives of many vampire kin, ripping out their throats while crowds cheered above her.

And they called her a savage. Mira scoffed at the irony.

She should hate Lucian as much as she hated the rest of human society; she certainly had the right to. But not all humans were bad. At least not that one, she reminded herself as her gaze narrowed down his short dark hair toward the crook of his neck, spotting the pulsating artery there. It would be so easy to sink her fangs in and drink her fill. Lucian had once been part of the problem, but no longer. He'd helped save her from her imprisonment. He'd proven his true nature. She looked back to the other two humans in the vehicle – the aging Curtis and his wife, Sarah, huddling together, fighting exhaustion. They too had helped, despite obvious revulsion at her species. Not all humans were the enemy. Not all were evil. Just as she, a vampire, was not evil.

She dragged in another breath of that glorious fresh night air and let it clear away the anger. So many years she had dreamed of freedom, and now she had it.

She was free. Alive. No more silver shackles. No more tiny cell smelling of dirt and decay. No more fighting for her life in the arena. Sure, they were still in danger, and the humans would certainly pursue her, but in this one moment, she was free. The crispness of that single breath stirred within her the desire for more. Others too should savor this freedom. She thought back to the prison and all of the vampires still trapped within. George, the closest thing she'd had to a true friend. Tegan, her last opponent. He'd been her enemy in the arena and in training, but he didn't deserve to remain locked behind silver-coated bars. Countless others were still languishing away within the Iron Gate prison. Those poor souls. They needed to know that there was more to immortality than servitude.

"You okay, Mira?" Lucian's weary tone was soft as a whisper.

Quiet as they were, his words snapped Mira from her thoughts. "Yeah. Why?"

"You just look..." Lucian hesitated as if unable to complete the thought.

"I'm fine. I just haven't seen the stars in so long. They're so beautiful."

Lucian glanced upwards, but his eyes didn't sparkle the way Mira had hoped. "I guess."

"Don't take them for granted. You don't know what it's like to miss them."

"I can only imagine." He forced a smile.

She couldn't be too annoyed with him. Living a life of privilege, as he had, wanting for nothing, how could she expect him to appreciate something as small yet significant as the stars shimmering in the night sky? There was a time when she too had taken them for granted. "Nice driving back there." She hoped the subject change would break the awkward silence between them.

His chest puffed with pride. "I have to admit, it was pretty exciting."

Mira smiled at the sudden change in his demeanor. She doubted he'd ever experienced anything as thrilling as their escape in his life. "I'll be honest. I had my doubts we'd make it."

"Really?" His shoulders slumped slightly.

"Three humans and one half-blind vampire being chased by trained soldiers? Think about it. The odds weren't exactly in our favor, now, were they?"

"You should give us more credit than that."

"We did it. We survived and we're still alive. That's credit enough. Don't get cocky; you'll become sloppy." She didn't mean to downplay their abilities, but being a realist, she wouldn't sugarcoat things. That wasn't the warrior way.

Lucian's jaw tightened. Clearly dissatisfied by her lack of praise, he turned away, looking out the window toward the horizon. "So, do you have an idea as to where we're going?"

"No." Sanctuary had always been a land of legend. A rumor spread among the vampires wanting to find freedom from oppression. She'd been on the road to finding it once; before she'd been captured. Back when she was just a fledgling traveling with her sire and lover, Theo. All she remembered from those days was that they'd been heading west, toward the coast. "Nor do I know what we'll do or find if we ever get there."

"Well, you're just a bright little ray of sunshine tonight, aren't you?"

"I don't like sunshine, and I'm not going to pretend we're in the clear. We've still got a lot of question marks hanging above our heads."

"We've overcome quite a lot tonight. Allow yourself to accept that."

He was right. She glanced back up to the stars for a moment and let their silvery light brighten her mood. "I'm just concerned about what we have coming up next. Good or bad."

Lucian gently squeezed Mira's arm, a small gesture of friendship and camaraderie that felt so foreign. Touching was not something she was used to, and not something she was too sure she liked.

"I've been thinking about that as well," Lucian said. "Assuming we make it, we'll be in vampire territory. You'll have to take the lead."

"One thing at a time. First we have to find it." Mira hadn't thought about what would happen when they did encounter other vampires. She'd be reasonably safe on her own, but with three humans in tow, she was traveling with her own personal buffet. Her own kind back home had become near savage over the years in captivity; what would free-range vampires be like? What did they feed on? Assuming they had survived, what had they lived off all of these long years? So many questions. So many new worries. In some respects, this newfound freedom promised to be just as problematic as captivity.

"When we do find it, we'll need to have a plan in place."

Mira took a deep breath and gazed back up at the stars, trying to use their light to help her remain positive. "Can we leave the future to the future for now? I've not seen the stars in so long. I want to enjoy this simple pleasure for the moment."

"The stars will always be there."

"Says the man who's had a lifetime to enjoy them."

Lucian sighed impatiently but did not engage her further. They rode together in silence, putting more and more miles between themselves and New Haven's Iron Gate.

Revolution

Book 3

Chronicles of the Uprising

Coming August 2014

Peace is an illusion. Blood, violence, and death follow Mira like shadows.

Battle lines have been drawn between human and Otherkin and bloody war is on the horizon: one that will end in either a shift in the world's balance of power...or ultimate destruction.

With their strength, powers and a rage known only by the oppressed, the Otherkin are evenly matched against the superior numbers of the human army. To tip the balance in their favor, the Otherkin need more soldiers; and their only options are the Gladiators of New Haven city.

Mira is sent across enemy lines to recruit any able-bodied vampires to her cause. But what she discovers along the way will blur the lines between friends and enemies. Seeds of doubt weaken Mira's allegiance and she finds herself torn between the old masters who used her as entertainment, and the new ones who consider her as nothing more than a weapon.

As the war draws near, Mira will have to decide what she is truly fighting for.

Other Titles By Katie Salidas

The Immortalis Series:

Becoming a vampire is easy. Living with the condition... that's the hard part. Join Alyssa as she stumbles through the world of the "Unnatural."

Book 1: Immortalis Carpe Noctem - Newbie vampire Alyssa never asked for this life, but now it's all she has. Rescued from death by Lysander, the aloof and sexy leader of the Peregrinus vampire clan, she's barely cut her teeth before she becomes a target. Kallisto, an ancient and vindictive vampire queen – and Lysander's old mate - wants nothing less than final death for her former lover and his new toy. She's not above letting the Acta Sanctorum, and its greatest vampire hunter, Santino, know exactly where the clan can be found.With no time to mourn her old life, Alyssa's survival depends on her new family. She will have to stand alongside Lysander and fight against two enemies who will stop at nothing to destroy them.

Book 2: Hunters & Prey - Rule number one: humans and vampires don't co-exist. One is the hunter and one is the prey. Simple, right? Not for newly-turned vampire Alyssa. A surprise confrontation with Santino Vitale, the Acta Sanctorum's most fearsome hunter, sends her fleeing back to the world she once knew, and Fallon, the human friend she's missed more than anything. Now she has some explaining to do. However, that will have to wait. With the Acta Sanctorum hot on their heels, staying alive is more important than educating a human on the finer points of bloodlust.

Book 3: Pandora's Box - After a few months as a vampire, Alyssa thought she'd learned all she needed to know about the supernatural world. But her confidence is shattered by the delivery of a mysterious package - a Pandora's Box. Seemingly innocuous, the box is in reality an ancient prison, generated by a magic more powerful than anyone in her clan has ever known. But what manner of evil could need such force to contain it? When the box is opened, the sinister creature within is released, and only supernatural blood will satiate its thirst. The clan soon learns how it feels when the hunter becomes the hunted.

Book 4: Soulstone - It's a desperate time for rookie vampire Alyssa, and her sanity is hanging by a slender thread. Her clan is still reeling from the monumental battle with Aniketos; a battle that claimed the body of Lysander, her sire and lover, and trapped his spirit in a mysterious crystal. A Soulstone. Unfortunately, no amount of magic has been able to release Lysander's spirit, and the stone is starting to fade. Weeks of effort have proved futile. Her clan, the Peregrinus, have all but given up hope. Only Alyssa still believes her lover can be released. In despair, Alyssa begs the help of the local witch coven, and unwittingly exposes the supernaturals of Boston to unwanted attention from the Acta Sanctorum. The Saints converge on the city and begin their cleansing crusade to rid the world of all things "Unnatural." In the middle of an all-out war, but no closer to a solution to the dying stone, Alyssa is left with an unenviable choice: save her mate, or save her clan.

Book 5: Moonlight

Good girls don't wear fur, or fight over men, and they certainly don't run around naked, howling at the moon. But then, no-one ever called Fallon a good girl. As a human unofficially mated to an Alpha werewolf, Fallon is being pressured to "become"...or be gone. Her mate Aiden, the interim leader of the Olde Town Pack, is in a position that demands he either choose a wolf mate...or leave the pack forever. No matter how hot the sex with Fallon is, he can't ignore centuries of tradition. Become a wolf or not. If only the choice were that simple. Fallon's options are further clouded by the overt presence of other females desperate to be the Alpha's mate. And when these bitches get serious, it's not just claws that come out. If Fallon wants to keep her man and take the title she'll have to exert a little dominance of her own.

Book 6: Dark Salvation

A gathering storm of violence is on the horizon. Whispered threats of the Acta Sanctorum's return have the supernatural world abuzz. Only recently aware of the other world hidden behind our own, Kitara Vanders has barely scratched the surface of what being supernatural truly means. A special woman in her own right, she possesses unique telepathic abilities, gifts that have recently come under the scrutiny of the Acta Sanctorum, a fanatical organization whose mission is to cleanse the world of anything supernatural. Targeted, and marked for death, Kitara's only hope lies with the lethally seductive yet emotionally scarred warrior, Nicholas.

Knowing full well the atrocities the Acta Sanctorum is capable of, Nicholas is all too eager for the battle to begin. Fueled by pain and rage from the loss of his mate, he's itching for a fight, but one thing stands in his way, Kitara: a beautiful dark-haired woman with unique psychic abilities and an unusual link to the Saints. Despite his resolve to remain focused on his mission, a purely physical relationship binds them together in a way neither of them expected. And when her life hangs in the balance, Nicholas finds his own is teetering on the edge too.

About the Author

Katie Salidas is a Super Woman! Endowed with special powers and abilities, beyond those of mortal women, She can get the munchkin off to gymnastics, cheerleading, Girl Scouts, and swim lessons. She can put hot food on the table for dinner while assisting with homework, baths, and bedtime... And, She still finds the time to keep the hubby happy (nudge nudge wink wink). She can do all of this and still have time to write.

And if you can believe all of those lies, there is some beautiful swamp land in Florida for sale...

Katie Salidas resides in Las Vegas, Nevada. Mother, wife, and author, she does try to do it all, often causing sleep deprivation and many nights passed out at the computer. Writing books is her passion, and she hopes that her passion will bring you hours of entertainment.

Find Katie Salidas online at:

<http://www.katiesalidas.com/>

Facebook

<http://www.facebook.com/pages/Katie-Salidas-Author/214780936916>

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 http://www.linkedin.com/profile?viewProfile=&key=58814031&trk=tab_pro

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<http://twitter.com/QuixoticKatie>

Reclaimed

By

Kim Faulks

Copyright © 2011 by Kim Faulks 2011

ISBN: 978-0-9871841-0-8

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

<http://www.hauntingfiction.com/>

Other Titles by Kim Faulks

The Fire and Ice Series – Paranormal Erotica

Reclaimed

Seductive Sands

Enslaved

Emergence

Yesterday's Ashes

The No Angel Series – Dark Urban Fantasy

Hells Angel

The Immortal Destiny Series – Dark Fantasy/Horror

End of Dreams

Stand Alone Titles

The Secrets Room - Horror

Acknowledgments

This book is dedicated to my husband Anthony and my kids Ryan and Rebbecca, for all those days I spent huddled over my laptop and I wasn't giving you my undivided attention.

For my best friends Robert, Nikki and Tiffany, I couldn't have done this without you and to the many great authors and publishers and readers, who have helped me along the way, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Chapter 1

The dog bounded into Natalie, knocking her over as she fumbled for the light switch.

"Goddamn mutt," she muttered and took a swipe at it with her foot. The retriever pounced back and forwards, eager to get in on the game as Natalie pushed her way into her apartment. The hallway lights lit up the lounge, just enough for her to see the mess of bags and papers that littered the floor. "Jesus."

She marched to the bedroom and hit the light switch. Her ex-boyfriend Chris startled awake and flipping over in her bed like slimy eel. He was sprawled out naked on the bed, his pale arse pointing into the air, taking up both sides as usual.

"Hey. Turn off the light" He moaned, burying his head back into her pillow.

"Get up," Natalie said, kicking into the bed. "Your mutt needs to go outside."

"I'll take him out in the morning," He mumbled, and then continued to snore a second later.

Natalie walked around her bed, shrugging out of the shoulder holster she wore and looked at the clock and sighed, exhausted after another fourteen hour shift. Her job as an armed bodyguard was demanding on her time, as well as her body and on the end of a seven day week she was glad for the break. "Get up," she said, growling and kicking into the bed, furious with herself for allowing this jerk back into her life. "I won't stay long I promise," she snarled mimicking his side of their conversation earlier in the day, "It'll be like I was never there."

She changed into shorts and a t-shirt, tied her long red hair in a ponytail and grabbed the dog's lead, making her way towards the door. "Come on then, don't think you're messing in my apartment." She clipped the lead onto the dog's collar and walked him out the door.

The air had that sweet smell of night and she breathed deep, as she headed to the park next to her building. She unclipped the dog's lead. The mutt sniffed the air then trotted away. Her muscles were sore from the gruelling workout earlier that morning and she rubbed her thighs, digging in her thumbs to work out the knots. She needed sleep and rest, but with Chris and his dog now taking over her apartment she didn't think she'd be getting either.

The dog trotted about half way between her and a clump of trees on the edge of the park and then stopped, issuing a deep growl. His bark rang out loud in the quiet of the night and the hackles on his shoulders rose.

"What is it boy?" Natalie walked toward him. She placed her hand on his head, feeling the vibration of his growl through his body.

Pure instinct made Natalie hunker down and shuffle towards the edge of the park. She clenched her hands into tight fists, ready to fight and scanned for anything that moved.

She reached the bushes within seconds. Footprints marred the soft dirt underneath. Natalie sank to her knees and touched the impressions. The dirt was fresh, as though had just been shifted and by the reaction of the dog someone had been here only moments ago. The indentations were neat and she marked them out with her fingers and the palm of her hands. It was a male's shoeprint, slightly deeper on the balls of his feet by the depth of gouges in the soft dirt. _About ninety to ninety-five kilos_ , she thought and by the direction of the markings, he'd been watching her.

There had been the usual cases of break and enters in the neighbourhood, but nothing about attacks on women, so she would need to be more vigilant from now on.

The dog wagged his tail, obviously happy with himself and she ruffled his fur whispering, "Good boy," and re-attached the collar. She looked one last time around the park, making sure she hadn't missed anything then glanced up at her apartment. _Now,_ she thought, _to deal with the sleeping arrangements_.

Chapter 2

The shrill of her mobile jolted her awake. Natalie reached for her bedside table and the phone that illuminated in the soft morning glow. She snatched it up, without fully opening her eyes and squinted as she read the text. _Have new client be here at nine, look sexy, bigggg $$$$$_. "Shit...shiiiiittttt, you've got to fucking kidding me." She kicked the sheets from her body.

"Wassup babe?" Chris moaned and reached over to cup her breast.

She shoved his hand away and rolled over to squint at the clock before falling back onto her pillow. "Ugh, it's seven-thirty."

Chris rolled on top of her, driving his already hard shaft into her thigh, something _he_ thought was downright sexy. "Well, just in time then."

"Get off me," Natalie said pushing him off and slid from the bed, heading for the bathroom. "And get out of my fucking life!"

Chapter 3

The potential client sat across from her wearing a tailored grey Armani suit, his jacket undone as he stared at her from beneath dark tinted sunglasses. She could feel his penetrating gaze from the moment she walked in the room and it was starting to get on her nerves. "Why me Mr...?" she prompted.

"Ash," he said, his gaze never wavered. "And the answer is simply, I like to surround myself with beautiful women."

She sighed and shook her head. "You know what? I have completed two tours in Afghanistan, carry five different weapons licences. I've worked for the Prime Minister and her family and have been on six different solitary bodyguard details for some of the most known actors and rock stars, one of which I finished," Natalie said, looking at her watch, "Ten hours ago. If you want beautiful Mr Ash, there are plenty of pretty young models out there who would love your company and hang off your arm. I don't. I tend to tear them off," she finished icily.

Her boss Samuel Gaffy sat on the edge of the desk wearing his best navy blue pin stripe suit, gulping his coffee and watching Mr Ash nervously. She could tell Sam was almost at a nervous breakdown point as he swung his foot backwards and forwards faster and faster, the more nervous he was the more he swung. At the moment, it looked like he was sprinting in mid-air. But, she wasn't concerned with frantic foot movements or disturbing drinking habits, something else irritated her more and it was this she focused on. Rich, cold and calculating people who thought she would fall over herself to do their bidding.

"Did I forget dangerous? Yes, I think I did. Beautiful and dangerous women," Mr Ash said, removing his sunglasses while he stared at her as though he could see right through her. His eyes were a piercing sky blue, a stark contrast to the dark grey suit he wore and paleness of his skin. He was striking, to say the least but far too young for her, even if she did break her number one rule and consider sleeping with a client. With those eyes he could almost make her forget what an arrogant jerk he was. Almost.

"Why do you need a body guard, Mr Ash?" Natalie asked.

"I have a number of appointments in the city and a function I would like to attend. I will be in need of a protector, as such, someone that can be ruthless if needed. Can you be ruthless, Natalie?" he asked leaning forward, his eyes never wavering from her face.

"For five thousand a day I can be as ruthless as you want," she answered, flashing her smile, while Samuel coughed and spluttered his coffee back into his cup.

"I thought the rate was two thousand," Mr Ash said as his eyes narrowed, not bothering to look at her boss.

"It just went up," Natalie answered coolly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"Fine," he answered and added just as quick. "I'd like you to start this afternoon."

"I'll need some more information about the detail first Mr Ash, before I take you on."

"I thought we had already decided that you would be guarding me Miss...?"

"Sommers, and no, Mr Ash, all I told you was the price you would be paying _if_ I took you as a client," Natalie said abruptly. She'd been there and done that with the whole _I'm a superstar bow down to me,_ thing and she quickly found it was best to set the ground rules up front, no messing with the bodyguard. _Fucking Kevin Costner,_ she sighed.

"I've some minor appointments later today nothing drastic, but I'll be attending an All Hallows Eve party tomorrow evening where I will be the guest of honour," he said with a slight chuckle.

"All Hallows Eve? Do we even celebrate that here in Australia?"

"Apparently, it's growing in popularity," her boss chipped in with a shrug. "Who would have guessed?"

"So what is this All Hallows Eve thing?" Natalie asked her boss.

But it was Mr Ash who answered. He licked his lips and said, "It's when dead things come out to play Miss Sommers."

He stood and buttoned his jacket while he looked down at her. His gaze was both intimidating and she felt overtly sexual, like he _wanted_ to look down on her, she felt her eyes narrow as her instinct warned.

"If you have any more questions you have my assistant's number. Good morning to you Miss Sommers, I very much hope that you will be accompanying me this afternoon," he said as he turned and walked from the room.

"Holy crap," exclaimed her boss as he slid from the desk to stare at the door.

"Tell me about it, what a shmuck," Natalie said.

"Five thousand a day, and did you see the suit he wore, fucking _Armani!_ " he said, jumping up and down like an excited school girl. "Oh my God, I've got to call Eric, he will scream."

Natalie watched him and rolled her eyes. "God Sam, you are such a fag. All you see is money and arse and all I see is a pain in mine."

"Samuel, Natalie. Please, you know how I hate Sam. Now, please," her boss begged fluttering his eyes and clasping his hands together in prayer, "Pretty please, play with the gorgeous rich man," he sang. "We need the fucking money."

"Fuck, why is it always me?" she said as she stood and straightened her top and holster.

"Because my dear, you are fucking hot, especially when you wear that for the interviews, tits and guns," he said with a sigh, eyeing her tight black top that exclaimed she was _Armed and Dangerous_. That and the fact she was a red head with green eyes signalled that she had a temper, and was not afraid to use it. "It does it for them every time."

She would forever owe Samuel and she knew deep down she would never deny him a client, especially one that was prepared to pay double for her services. He was the one that had given her the break she needed. He looked after her, finding her a place to live and dropping around to cook and clean when she was barely able to survive. She had come back from the Army a changed person, and it wasn't for the better. Yes, she owed him a lot and even if it meant that she had to put up with some rich arsehole, then she would do it.

"Fine," she muttered walking towards the door, "Get the details and text them to me, I'm going to the range, I feel the need to shoot something."

Chapter 4

Natalie parked outside the Hotel, looked up at the massive wall of shiny windows and shuddered, "Please don't be on the top floor," she said, whispering. The rich always were though, something about being higher than everyone else, as though they needed it to set themselves apart.

The desk manager took one look at her and motioned her over, lifting the handset of the phone. After a brief conversation he handed her a swipe key and motioned towards the elevator,

"Top floor, Royal Suite," he said in clipped tones, then turned away. Natalie nodded and moved towards the elevator as the fear in her stomach grew. She had a thing about heights ever since their chopper crashed on her first tour, she had been the only one left alive.

The elevator pinged and Natalie stepped out heading towards the door at the far end of the hall. She'd been stationed at this hotel before, in the Grand Harbour room and was told then that it was virtually impossible to book the Royal Suite. Whoever this guy was he had connections and money, which in her book made him dangerous, just how dangerous she was about to find out.

The door was opened by a stunning brunette who signalled her to enter. The woman looked her up and down, something that she was used to and so she stared back, avoiding the view from the windows which would only make her feel nauseous. The brunette was thin and tall with frameless glasses and her hair pulled back tightly from her face, which accentuated the smoothness of her skin and her full lips.

"Mr Ash will be out momentarily, please take a seat and we can go over this afternoon's schedule," she said, looking towards the closed door to the bedroom and indicated the lounges. Natalie nodded and sat, taking out her phone and entered the time and locations of the day's meetings into the schedule while the assistant talked.

"Mr Ash is very particular about who gets close to him. I just wanted to make you aware of that. You seemed to have caught his eye and you are very lucky to be selected," she said, her tone tinged with envy.

"He doesn't know me, he only hired me to protect him," Natalie said as the bedroom door opened and out walked three women, dressed in skimpy clothes and bed hair. "Doesn't seem to be worried about people getting close to him to me," Natalie whispered, watching them smile and stumble towards the door. One girl clutched her neck; the look of longing in her eyes was so carnal it caused Natalie to turn away in embarrassment.

"Oh, never mind them," she said with a wave. "He won't even remember their names, but you...you, he has mentioned a number of times since this morning."

Natalie waited patiently in the lounge room for her client to shower and dress, appearing in a navy suit and crisp white shirt, his hair combed immaculately in place. "Good afternoon Miss Sommers, or can I call you Natalie?" he said heading towards her. She stood quickly this time, remembering how uncomfortable their last encounter had made her feel and met his gaze with her own, extending her hand.

She was about to say _Miss Sommers_ , when the room seemed to waiver, twisting before her and she felt the cool whisper of a breath against her ear. The sensation drifted down her neck and she could have sworn she felt the touch of lips against her skin. Her left hand reached for her neck as her other instinctively went for her gun, the harsh patterned grip providing reassurance as the room slowly returned to normal. "Are you okay Natalie?" he said, concern washing over his face but not reaching his eyes.

Natalie smiled and nodded automatically, stepping back as she watched the two before her cautiously. "I'm fine," she said focusing on settling her voice and her heart; it wasn't good to let her client see she was rattled. "Shall I wait for you to have lunch, we have time?"

"Thank you, but no. I've already eaten," he said, heading out the door.

Natalie reached the elevator just as the soft ping signalled the automatic doors were to open and she stepped inside, moving slightly in front of him as she swept her eyes over the confined space and waited for him to enter.

"Is that your natural colour?" he said and she turned watching him in the reflection of the mirrored elevator walls.

"Yes, it is," she said, uncomfortable under his gaze.

"It's the colour of a setting sun, absolutely stunning," he said with a sigh. A hot flush crept up to her cheeks and she prayed for the elevator to go faster.

She didn't know what it was with Mr Ash, why he seemed to take such an interest in her and why this seemed to affect her. It sure wasn't the first time she had been hit on by a client and she was sure it wouldn't be the last.

She was automatically conscious of where he stood, his exact movements and the attention he was giving her. She could almost pin-point the exact location of his body behind her own and it seemed to set her skin alive, tingling with the promise of a touch. The elevator pinged and the doors slid open with the smoothness that only the expensive hotels had and she almost sighed with relief as she pushed forward, sweeping her gaze through the lobby until she reached the door of the limousine.

Chapter 5

Natalie sat next to him in the backseat of a black limousine, but she could tell he was not interested in the Harbour or Bondi Beach, as his eyes never left her. So _she_ pretended enough for the both of them and it wasn't hard as the Harbour sparkled in the afternoon sun.

She forced herself to act professionally while she escorted him around, scanning the crowd that moved around them and the offices they entered and left. Her mind was on him as well, but she forced herself to concentrate, shaking her head and stepping in front of tourists, who flashed their cameras at anything that looked rich or exciting and Mr Ash definitely looked rich, exciting and incredibly gorgeous.

_Natalie,_ she heard her name and she whipped her head around, seeking out the reason for her name to be called. The crowd moved past her, intent on getting through their own day, oblivious to her. She could have sworn she heard the voice of someone calling her name, the male's voice lingering inside her mind as she stood outside the restaurant.

She tried to shrug it off and to focus on what was happening in front of her, but her mind kept searching for the sense of familiarity that came with the voice and she found herself being pulled in a direction she didn't want to go.

Her client coughed softly behind her and she forced herself to return her attention to the front door and she moved quickly through and into the rush of the crowd.

The restaurant was to be their last stop for the day and Natalie was glad for it to end, the endless staring from Mr Ash was getting on her nerves, his body, his eyes entered her thoughts even though she tried her best to block them out. They passed through the doors and packed tables filled with diners that signalled to her that it was dinner and she hadn't eaten all day, when a man stepped out from the hall dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans. He lifted his hand and pointed behind her. Her gaze was drawn instantly to the reflection of the lights as they bounced off the stainless steel of the gun that at this moment was pointed directly at her client.

She was too close to draw her own gun and the split second decision backed up with years of hard training told her the only thing she could do was rush to him.

She crouched low so that she could whip her arms up and flew towards him. He didn't notice her at first, dismissing her dress jeans, heels and buttoned jacket. Just another customer in a busy restaurant, _well he was wrong._

Her hand wound around his wrist and she squeezed, while her other arm pushed on his upper arm where it joined at his shoulder. She whipped him around with the natural movement of her waist and pushed him down to the floor so his face ate the ground with a thud. His hand with the gun was extended upwards, sticking out like a broken wing. She squeezed tightly, grinding the bones of his wrist until she heard the unmistakable crunch of fracturing bones. The gun fell from his gasp as the attacker howled into the floor with pain, but he turned on her, opening his mouth to bite into her hand. She stepped to the side, swiftly bringing up her foot and pressed down on his neck.

She could hear the crack of teeth as the enamel gave way to hard concrete floor and brute force, then she let her foot ease. He would think twice about biting her again next time. You never knew who carried what now-days, diseases and infections were everywhere and a woman in her position had to be careful where her body was concerned. Without her health, she had nothing. Blood splattered the ground in front of her as it poured from both his nose and his mouth, the gurgle and his howling of pain was deafening.

Diners in the restaurant cried out in both fear and disgust, she needed to ensure the safety of her client first, and then worry about the public relations after. He didn't seem to be some kind of movie star and she whispered a silent thank you, snapping cameras and recording mobile phones were bad enough.

Natalie stood up and kicked the gun out of his reach, but well within hers trying her best to ignore the questions and stares as she pulled out the strip of tough plastic that she carried, secured his wrists together and called Grayson.

Grayson was a sergeant who worked in the Sydney suburb called The Rocks. He was quickly becoming the most stable person in her life and most times he seemed to be best and her only friend. He picked up on the third ring and Natalie spoke quickly into her phone, knowing he would come, he always did. But after he attended and made sure she was safe would come the questions and the questions were always the same: _Are you okay? Why don't you come back to the Police where I can keep an eye on you?_

The questions she could handle, she would smile and shake her head with a playful punch to the ribs. But after the questions were deflected and the concern was gone, would come the guilt, for leaving him behind.

She was tired and more than that, she felt empty and cold that would make her wonder, for a split-second she would think about going back, back to the police and back to Grayson, so he could try to fill some void in her life that work and exercise didn't seem to. But could she go back and follow someone else's rules? And be the partner that Grayson desperately needed and more than anything else, which he deserved? She could, but it wouldn't be long before he realised that she didn't love him and couldn't love him no matter how hard he tried. She couldn't hurt him again. No, she was better off alone.

He wrote down the address and organised a police car to attend her location, telling her he was on his way. They served in the army together overseas, and after a brief but heated affair she decided that they made better friends than lovers, which worked out well for her, but when she saw the pain and longing in his eyes she knew it wasn't the best for him.

The car showed up with lights but no sirens and Grayson walked through, parting the crowd with his size. She met his eyes then looked away, as she focused on the whimpering mess on the floor. Others stared, as they always would, they would see the scars that marred his face and arms from a road-side mine as grotesque, but she never would. She would only see the man that came back from the brink of death at the sound of her voice next to him, telling him that there was hope. Well, there had been plenty of hope for him, he lived and healed, while she died on the inside.

He smiled at her in his awkward way and moved his gaze over to her client and she watched his gaze turn hard and cold. She waited, watching him do what he did best, intimidate.

Grayson listened to her as she explained what happened, his eyes travelling over her face, as though he wasn't listening to her at all. When she finished ticking all the boxes that would keep her out of jail he turned his attention to the man on the floor.

He moved him around with violent twisting and turning that caused him to roll on to his wrist that had already begun to swell to a purple hue, then dragged him upwards so that he had to scramble to his feet to stand and dragged him towards the car.

He returned only moments later, the gun was bagged and details of her client were taken in case a statement was required at some point, then they were allowed to go.

By the time they walked towards the door to the upstairs office it seemed the onlooking bystanders no longer cared, the drama had ended and so everyone resumed their life, everyone except for a few who still whispered and pointed in her direction.

"That was very impressive," said her client, standing off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest.

"That's what you pay me for right? To be impressed?" she said with a shrug, feeling a little hostile with the after effects of a fight, like an itch where she just couldn't scratch. About now was the time she needed to hit the gym, while the adrenaline circled inside of her like a caged tiger, aching to get let out. It was either fight or fuck, and the latter was definitely not on the cards.

"Are you always so controlled?" he said as they made their way towards the back offices and his last appointment to which they were now running late.

"Please," she said sighing. "Let's stop with the twenty questions, okay?" her voice was tinged with the frustration she felt, while she held open the door for him to pass.

He stopped midway, knowing that she couldn't shut the door without hitting him. "Do I make you nervous?" he said whispering, his body far too close to hers.

He did make her nervous, more than anyone had in a long time and she silently cursed herself and her boss for taking on this job. She looked at him, frowning like she resented the question, like she resented him and suddenly found herself swimming in the ocean blue pools of his gaze, teetering on the brink of drowning. His skin was flawless and smooth like the colour of light coffee cream, so perfect that she wanted to touch it to see if it was real.

Her vision swam before her and before she knew it, she _was_ touching him, holding his strong jaw in her grasp and running her fingers along his cool skin. She felt detached and dreamy under his gaze and she stepped forward, ignoring the tiny voice inside her mind that told her _no._ She wasn't listening anymore, _because it's not even real_ , she thought as she opened her mouth ever so slightly and kissed him.

His lips were soft, unlike any mans she had ever known and her own mouth moulded with his, moving carefully as not to shatter her delirium. His body was firm and hard as he moved against her, pushing her against the wooden frame of the door. Intoxicated, she closed her eyes, savouring the feel of him against her breasts, pushing against her groin, the feel of his body under her touch as she trailed her fingers across his...

"Are you okay, Natalie?"

His voice fought its way through the fog of her mind. She opened her eyes to find him watching her with interest, the hallucination of her mind disappearing from her thoughts like a haze. She shook her head, clearing away the last of the fantasy and stumbled slightly, stepping forward. "Sure, okay. Let's get this over with shall we," she said her voice doing its damndest not to waiver.

She forgot for a split second her duties and brushed past her client on her way through the door first. If she had waited she might have seen the tug of the corners of his mouth, it was only for an instant, but the grin was unmistakable.

Natalie waited in the uncomfortable chairs outside the office after checking behind the door thoroughly, she did not need any more surprises tonight. Her delirium in the hallway bugged her, it had been the second time since meeting Mr Ash that she had felt it, maybe she needed to get laid, get it all out of her system. But the thought of complicating things any further with Chris made her wince, she _sooo_ did not want to go down that path again. It would only end in heart break for her, his four mistresses...and another trip to the emergency department for him.

_Come on,_ she whispered looking at her watch. It was now almost eight and she had been going for almost twelve straight hours, her stomach growled and she covered it over with her hands, quietening it.

The door creaked open at eight-thirty and out walked her client, now clutching a brief-case and nodded curtly to the man behind the desk and followed Natalie out of the door and down to the restaurant. The crowd had changed, new faces now sat at the tables when they walked through and no one this time whispered or pointed. Natalie stood directly in front of her client scanning the possible lines of fire, finding none they made their way towards the limousine. She breathed a sigh of relief once they were moving and leaned back in the seat, happy to be on her way to the hotel to drop off her client.

The snaps of the briefcase drew her eyes, it was instinct. She looked down at the neat piles of green one hundred dollar notes. Her client caught her looking and she quickly diverted her gaze. "A little party money," he said with a smile.

"What are you, a drug dealer?" she asked looking at him. "No wait a minute, don't tell me, I don't need to know," she said shaking her head. What had gotten into her lately? This client was getting too far under her skin. That or she was headed for a mid-life crisis. _Was twenty-eight too early for a mid-life crisis?_ God, she hoped so.

"Actually I'm in the recruiting business," he said calmly.

"Recruiting what?"

"Oh, lots of things," he said turning his head towards her and snapping shut the briefcase. "At the moment I'm looking for a very special person to join me."

"Oh, how long until you find this person?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Not long, I've already found them, just working out the small details to win them over," he said with a smile. Natalie turned back to the sparkling city lights as they made their way ac to the Hotel. She would be glad to get back home, to the safety of the familiar. Anything, as long as it wasn't Alexander Ash.
Chapter 6

"Do you mind if we go to a bar?" he said, snapping her back to reality. Her mind was still back in the restaurant, reliving the moment that her body was pushed against the frame of the doorway, immersed in the most beautiful lips she had ever felt - until his voice broke through the fog.

"Sorry, are you asking me out?" Natalie said confused and shocked, the last thing she needed was to allow him to get under her skin any more than he had already.

"Well no, I meant I'd like to go to a bar and I wanted you to accompany me as my bodyguard," he said, chuckling.

She swallowed hard and felt the blush reach her cheeks. _How bloody stupid Natalie,_ she chided herself, furious and now mortified with her reaction. "Sure, no worries," she mumbled as her client pressed the button for the driver.

"Mason, can you please take me to a nice bar in the area," he said into the speaker.

"Sure Mr Ash," responded the driver almost immediately.

_Maybe I'm having an episode,_ she thought, trying to account for the way she was suddenly reacting. _Overworked...Depressed and Lonely?_ She shivered at the thought. _She was lonely._ It had been over a year since she shared her bed with someone before this morning; even thinking about it depressed her.

She knew taking Chris back was a mistake and his call yesterday had taken her by surprise. She still had feelings for him; but they seemed to range from yearning to hostility within the same thought.

_You need me, you want me Natalie, and I want you_ , said that voice inside her mind, was she dreaming again? She turned her head towards her client who seemed to be staring out of the blackened windows as they pulled up at the curb and blue neon lights of the bar filtered through.

By the time she opened the door and walked around the back of the limousine she was almost freaking out. Someone was playing games with her; there was no other explanation for what was happening. She searched the pockets of her jacket and her collar for a transmitter, finding none.

The neon lights bathed Mr Ash in a sea of blue as he stepped up onto the curb and the desire to touch him was so strong it caused Natalie to embed her nails into the palm of her hand.

She could feel the flesh of her hand give way and knew she would be seeing the crescent shape marks from her nails in the flesh of her palm for days, but the pain was a blessed relief.

The paleness of his skin was almost luminescent and Natalie had to tear her gaze away from him and towards the glare of the sign. _Intense,_ the word blazed into the night and Natalie couldn't help feel that the name of the bar seemed to sum her feelings up perfectly.

She stepped into the bar and swept her eyes along the rows of plush seats and the business men with their undone ties and creased jackets. She knew within a few hours the vibe would change to a more aggressive tone with both sexes drunk and looking for their next thrill.

But at the moment the bar seemed harmless and the business men turned to stare as they walked inside. She directed her client towards a side table against the wall, somewhere safe. She didn't care that others stared, she barely even registered they were there, all she could feel was the tingling sensation at the back of her body, sliding over the curves of her arse where she was sure Mr Ash was looking.

She moved the chair against the wall, while her client moved around the table, barely settling into the soft cushions of the chair before a gorgeous brunette wearing a skin tight t-shirt and low riding jeans stepped in front of him. "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked sweetly.

"I'll have a glass of your best scotch, and you, Natalie? What would you like?"

"You," she said quietly. She thought she said it under her breath, but she could see his eyes widen slightly. She turned her face away as she was both angry and humiliated by her own thoughts and actions.

"Sorry, what did you want from the bar?" said the brunette, drawing her focus back towards him.

"Just whatever you have that's diet," Natalie said to her. She nodded and moved off.

"Why do you drink that, it has no taste?"

She shrugged. "A woman's got to watch her weight," she said, moving uncomfortably in the chair.

"Why don't you take off your jacket and get comfortable," he said, watching her fidget.

She couldn't say that she hadn't been wishing for those exact words. She shrugged out of the jacket and laid it against the back of the chair. The brunette having returned with the tray of drinks stumbled slightly at the sight of her Glock, nestled against the side of her breast and Natalie watched her clients scotch lap the sides of the glass.

"Careful," her client growled and the brunette smiled at him nervously, her eyes drifting back to the gun against Natalie's chest.

"Sorry," the waitress said turning back to her client. "My name's Stephanie." She winked and slipped a folded piece of paper along the table towards her client's hand.

Natalie groaned and stood. It was one thing to have the overwhelming feelings toward her client, but it was something entirely different to sit there and watch him being hit on by someone else. Natalie moved towards the bar with her drink, well within sight of her client. He was smiling and nodding towards the barmaid as she flirted and giggled.

"Excuse me?" said a voice to her left.

Natalie turned, meeting deep brown eyes which were focused intently on her. "Yes?"

His jacket was draped over one shoulder and although he tried his hardest not to waiver, Natalie could see that he was obviously drunk. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Thank you, but no," she said trying to be polite.

"Natalie, is there a problem?" Alexander said, moving up behind her and she shook her head. His smooth face belied the danger in his gaze and a cold shiver broke over her body.

"No, thank you Mr Ash, everything is fine."

"Well, how about coming home with me?" said the drunken stranger, stepping closer to her and ignoring the deadly gaze that her client was directing at him.

It was one of the most blatant proposals she had received and was struggling with how to answer without starting something in front her client, when Alexander Ash spoke, "Move along, this one is mine."

_This one is mine?_ Natalie didn't know if she should be pissed or grateful. She turned to the steely glare of her client who at this moment was acting like a jealous boyfriend. "Thank you Mr Ash," she said, her tone clipped. "If you are finished we must be going."

He looked towards her and nodded, lowering his gaze until she moved past him to grab her jacket from her chair. _This one is mine;_ the remark caused alien feelings inside her to bubble to the surface. _Love, lust_ , she didn't know, but she did know that it was something that she didn't want to explore in a bar in the middle of Sydney. She shrugged back into her jacket and turned, catching a glimpse of the folded piece of paper that bore the waitress's number still sitting on the table.

Was it envy that made her heart race as she turned from the piece of paper on the table? Was it jealousy that caused her to leave her client, while the waitress flashed her best smile with pouted lips? These...feelings were causing her to make a fool of herself, to act in a way she would never have thought possible. She watched him warily now, knowing now that the danger no longer lay in any man with a gun, or knife for that matter. No, for her it hid underneath designer suits and expensive sunglasses and seemingly innocent questions until she could stand it no more. She knew where the real danger was for her now, it was Alexander Ash.

She moved in front of her client, warily lowering her gaze as if her own eyes would betray her thoughts like her words had only minutes ago and waited for him to drain the last of his drink, slip the waitress a hundred dollar note before they moved off.

Chapter 7

"What do you mean I have to stay here for the night?" Natalie said to the brunette who stood next to her as panic and anger welled within her.

"I'm sure your employer explained to you that we have secured your services around the clock, until Mr Ash leaves," she said fuming. "I have arranged for an overnight bag and room service which should be here soon."

"Please excuse me, while I make a phone call," Natalie said through gritted teeth. She was desperate to get away from this man and knew she was reacting badly, but she just couldn't help it. She closed the door gently behind her and moved into the hallway, punching in the numbers for Samuel's mobile. _Hi you've reached Samuel, I'm having wicked fun so leave a message and I might call you back...beep._ "Sammy honey, it's Natalie. I've just called to tell you that apparently I was hired to stay the night. As I'm a professional I'll stay, for triple my normal rate. You may think this is a joke, but you should know by now how unpredictable I am," she said with a smirk, hung up and walked back inside.

"I've taken the liberty of organising you some clothes for tomorrow and tomorrow night," said the assistant. "Your bag has been placed in the guest bedroom, I hope you like your things."

The door opened and the most delicious smell wafted in the room, she was barely concerned with the creak of the door, the food was all she needed at that moment. It felt good to have something else to occupy her attention, instead of her heart.

"I'm sorry I have neglected you today, " said Mr Ash from the doorway of the master bedroom. "Please go ahead and eat, while I take a bath, then we can discuss the arrangements for tomorrow night."

He turned and closed the door, disappearing from view. "If you need anything just ask, I'm in the suite next door," the assistant said walking from the room.

All Natalie wanted to do was to get through tonight and tomorrow and be done with Mr Ash and his lingering gaze. Her stomach growled inside her and she headed towards the dining trolley, the aroma was too good to ignore.
Chapter 8

Her room was gorgeous with a king size bed and expansive bathroom. The city lights sparkled as far as she could see, until she hit the button that closed the curtains and tried not to think about how high she was. A women's black suit hung behind the door to her bedroom and Natalie tugged at the collar. _Gucci,_ written in bold. "Figures," Natalie said, and rummaged around for something appropriate to wear while she stepped into the bathroom. All there was for her to wear was a small black slip and a short gown that was only marginally longer that what it was supposed to cover. She threw it on the bed, unable to take any more dramas at the moment and stepped into the bathroom.

She stood under the pulsating water of the shower, rinsing out the conditioner from her hair and ran through her actions of the day. She wasn't her usual cool, calm self and this confused the hell out of her. There was something about this mysterious client that made her feel overwhelmed when she was around him so that she was both repelled and attracted at the same time.

Her mind seemed to be confused with reality with fantasy and what had happened in the doorway of the restaurant only reflected how much of an impact he had on her. It was so unlike her and she was frustrated with allowing herself to be anything but strictly professional.

It was almost like a part of her knew him, had touched him and looked into those ice blue eyes, before. She tilted her head back under the water so that it drowned out everything else but those ice blue eyes that seemed to focus so intently on her and she couldn't help but remember how deadly he sounded at the bar. _This one is mine_.

His voice and the memory of his body caused her to shiver. She knew this was coming and as much as she tried to steady the wall inside of her it burst and she let herself go. Her hands slid down her stomach and lower to cup between her legs, shivering with her own touch. She opened her legs wider, as she remembered the way his body pushed against her, until the doorway had prevented her from going any further, the feel of him hard against her with only a whisper of thread between them. Her fingers slipped inside and she moved them over herself, rubbing the hard nub above her opening with soft circular motions while the spray of the shower beat down on her.

In her mind she watched as he removed his Armani suit, and it slid to the ground around him. She wanted to ruin his expensive suit and in her mind she felt him lower her on top of it, crushing it, ripping it. She wanted to look down on _him_ , the way he seemed to want to look down on her, to feel his body underneath her while he slipped inside her over and over. She moaned quietly, shuddering under the spray of the water as she climaxed.

It had been so long since she let go, let her desire take her away. _Too long,_ breathed the voice of her client in her mind. She was tired and being cooped up in here was causing her to hear his voice as well as think about his body as she pressed herself against the wall while the small pulses of her climax continued to leave her.

She rinsed herself off and towel dried her hair. It was always darker when it was wet, almost to a cherry red and she dressed in the black satin night dress that barely made it past the curves of her arse.

She had never been requested to stay over-night before, usually the client wanted to be rid of her as quickly as possible. She felt somewhat uncomfortable parading around in such limited clothing, but the alternative was putting her jeans and t-shirt back on after wearing them all day. But that would be smelly and stupid, besides she had shared her personal space with men before with no problem. _Would it be no problem?_ She asked herself. She was deluding herself if she chose to forget what just happened, what was still happening. There most definitely was a problem, a very big problem, as the feel of his lips and body resurfaced in her mind and the foreign feelings inside her resurfaced again. The problem was that she was attracted to Mr Ash.

She shrugged, thinking there was nothing she could do about it now, she would try not to think about him and pulled on the matching short robe tying it up tightly in front of her before sighing at the sight of her exposed legs and thighs and walked out.

He sat on the lounge; legs crossed wearing a snug fitting t-shirt and jeans, looking breath-taking. Natalie cursed herself and had to turn away to cover the blush that she was sure had covered her body from head to toe, as the image from her recent fantasy revived itself in her mind. "Sorry, this was all I had," she said murmuring quietly as she clutched the front of her robe together.

"Hmm," he answered looking her up and down. "You say you have five weapon licences. I'm thinking you should have six."

She knew what he meant. Even if her brain refused to acknowledge his remark her body acted automatically and clenched things deep inside of her. "You wanted to discuss tomorrow night?" she said, eager to have this done so she could get away and trying not to pay his remark any attention.

"Please sit, have a drink," he said standing to pour what looked like whisky over ice and handing it to her.

She shook her head. "Technically, I'm still on duty."

"There is no one getting up here, I have the entire floor blocked off. Please Natalie, come sit, I don't bite," he said, and then chuckled at his own private joke.

Her body reacted, tightening things deep inside of her, realising Mr Ash was coming on to her. She smiled awkwardly and grabbed the tumbler as she made her way over to the lounge. "So this All Hallows Eve party..." Natalie said stretching out her legs as she took one corner of the lounge.

"Yes, it will be something. I'll be introducing my newest recruit there; there will be a lot of people in attendance. I hope you don't mind I've organised your attire."

Natalie took a long sip of her whisky, feeling it burn the whole way down to her stomach. "Attire?"

"It's fancy dress, witches, vampires and the like. I think you will be pleased with what I've picked out."

The alcohol had started to take effect, warming her and relaxing the tension in her body, but not enough so that she would allow any man to tell her what to wear. Her eyebrows creased together in the middle of her forehead as she watched his strawberry lips move and realised he was telling her exactly what she was to wear, down to her underwear. The gall of this client was astounding. "And what exactly am _I_ supposed to be wearing?" she said, trying for a pissed-off tone and ending up with something squeaky and weak.

"I thought we would stick with tradition, so I've picked Dracula's bride for you," he said with a smile.

"I don't think I even want to know this, but who will you be going as?"

"Why, Dracula of course," he said laughing.

The knock on the door startled her and she jumped, spilling the whisky down the front of her.

"Don't be alarmed, it's just the entertainment," he chuckled watching her as three red headed women sauntered into the room dressed in less than she was.

"Is this a joke?" Natalie said, her voice now finding the cold steel of her anger as the image of his body underneath her rose up and this time slapped her in the face.

"I never joke Miss Sommers," he whispered. "You are welcome to join us if you like?"

He stood and moved from the lounge without a sound into the master bedroom, one of the women eyed her suspiciously until she turned, following the others into the bedroom and disappeared behind the click of the door as it shut behind them.

It was as though he was trying to push her buttons, to make her angry or jealous she didn't know. Whatever it was, it triggered too many emotions inside of her to handle and she gulped the burning amber liquid until there was nothing left in her glass.

Left alone in the dim spotlights of the lounge Natalie tried to block out the moans and squeals of delight from the room, while she downed another three shots of whisky and marched off to bed.

The room seemed to close in on her, as she tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep. Her mind raced, pulling her further and further away from the sleep she so desperately needed as her attention turned towards the sounds inside the bedroom.

He was playing with her, tormenting her mind with the sounds of pleasure and the string of red headed women. Natalie tossed and turned, punched the pillow and eventually lay there as the teasing whispers of them in the room next door pulled her from her bed.

Her body responded as she listened to the noises behind the door and heat crept its way inside her. Her nipples tingled and hardened in a way that they wanted to be touched, to be tasted. Natalie yearned to join them and she swung herself out of bed, watching as the room spun slightly. She was drunk and horny, a dangerous combination for her.

She was conscious to roll her feet when she stepped, not wanting her intrigue to be noticed. The grunting and groaning became louder as she stood outside the doors. _Come in,_ whispered a voice in her head, a voice that was not her own, the same voice that spoke to her in the shower.

She was attracted to him and it seemed unnatural for her to be in this situation. She was the boring one, the one who worked, ate, slept and worked out. Not the one who acted on a whim, however strong that whim may be.

She looked up and found herself outside of his room and reached out, gripping the door knob. The metal was cold under her hand and she suddenly became aware of what was happening. She was about to cross the line and break her number one rule.

_No,_ she said to herself, _back away, he's a client._ She let her hand fall away and quietly re-traced her steps, furious with herself for letting things get this far and walked back to her room.
Chapter 9

"Sorry if I kept you awake last night," he said looking at her from across the table. Natalie could almost swear he looked pleased with himself, the corners of his mouth twitching as he looked at her.

"What noise?" Natalie said, staring at him through darkened glasses that covered the dark circles under her eyes. "I didn't hear anything, I slept like a log."

Her eyes were bloodshot and her nerves wound so tight that she pitied the next person to cross her, including the insatiable Mr Ash. He on the other hand looked refreshed and gorgeous in black slacks and an open neck, crisp white shirt. Every time she looked at him she wanted to tear those clothes off, to loose herself in his eyes while he pushed his body inside of her. She wanted... _Oh God, what was she doing?_

"Excuse me," Natalie muttered, pushing out her chair abruptly and headed for the bathroom at almost a sprint. _Get it together Natalie, you only have six more hours and then you can find the next guy that even remotely excites you and fuck his brains out._ But therein lied her problem, she didn't want another guy, she wanted Mr Ash.

Chapter 10

The car would be picking them up in an hour, enough time to be ready and check her weapons. She had made a fool of herself today, letting him get under her skin. Things would be different after tonight, very different, she was about to make sure of that.

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through the numbers, hitting the number for Chris. He picked up after the third ring, yelling down the phone, asking when she was coming home.

"I'm not coming home," she said blankly. "My lease is up anyway and I pretty well have everything I need with me, so I'm leaving."

"What, what do you mean leaving, we just got back together?" he said, sounding hurt.

"Look if you think I can't hear whoever it is in the background then you're a fool, and I'm a bigger fool for letting you back into my life, so I'm gone," she said pressing the button on the phone and ending the call. _Self-preservation,_ she thought. _That's exactly what I'm doing;_ she was saving herself from a life-time of heartache by running. Her time in Afghanistan left her broken. It was her burden to carry, so she wouldn't force that on anyone else, she would disappear.

The next call would be harder, but in her mind she was already gone, already on a plane to wherever she wanted. _Queensland sounds nice._

Sam took her call like she expected: crying, screaming then begging. But she stayed firm and in the end when the hiccups were controlled he wished her luck and sent her love.

Natalie showered and checked her gun, making sure to check and double-check the clip, the chamber and her holster. The outfit that she was supposed to wear lay on the bed, the soft satin black of the dress shimmering under the bedroom lights.

Black stockings and garters sat next to the highest pair of black heels she had ever seen in her life. She stared at them then shrugged. _At least I can use them for a weapon if the Glock jams._ Her fingers ran along the black seam as she slipped into the stockings that trailed from her feet along the backs of her legs ending in a band of lace as she clasped the garter closed. She stood back and surveyed herself in the mirror, the black lace of her bra and panties caused her skin to look paler than normal and the red of her hair to be deeper, almost like a cascade of blood that ran down her back and shoulders.

Her makeup was finished and the dress slid over her body, catching on the swell of her breasts as it dropped towards the ground. The dress wasn't quite floor length, but the side seams split open, exposing the tops of her thighs and the garters that covered them.

"Devastating," whispered a voice behind her and Natalie spun, coming face to face with her client as his gaze ran upwards along her body to her eyes. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat and her heart to race as he watched her with eyes blazing. She felt caught, stunned beneath the weight of his gaze as the seconds ticked by.

"I bought you this," he said reaching out with what looked to be a river of red draped over his arm. He moved towards her, draping a cloak over her shoulders as he moved in front of her tying the red ribbon at the base of her neck.

"It's beautiful," she whispered looking up into his gaze, knowing full well how she sounded. Like someone in love.

The wide collar of his shirt fanned out around his neck, accentuating his jaw and perfect red lips. She wanted to kiss them, to run her tongue along the ridge of them and along the long white teeth that grew out between them. He watched her intently and she became aware of her body which was now responding to the closeness of him. _Damn_.

"Nice teeth, where did you get them?"

"Sorry?" he said his forehead narrowing.

"Your teeth, when they run out long like that, they look...real," she said, watching them grow over the top of his lower lip.

He smiled, looking bemused, his tone low and steady, almost predatory. "I can get you some if you like."

They stared at each other and Natalie couldn't help but feel there was something she was missing, something she wasn't getting. All she knew was that she found it hard to concentrate on anything else but this man before her. If she hadn't known any better she would have sworn she was falling in love.

"Sir, your car is here," said a voice from the doorway, startling them.

"Yes, well, Mr Ash," Natalie murmured stepping back from his outstretched hand. "We best get moving."

"Please Natalie, call me Alexander," he said softly. Natalie let the request hang in the air; she was out of her depth, she knew it and trying desperately to swim back to shore.

Something had changed and she knew it as she sat in the back of the limousine, next to Alexander. It was more than a physical longing now. Mixed with the need was a mixture of fear and sadness and she suddenly realised that although the attraction for him filled her with fear she knew her love was a black-hole that threatened to consume her. For the first time in her miserable life she knew there was more to the half-existence she had been living. There was another life out there, one that was filled with love and happiness and sharing of her life with another, it only seemed to shadow the life she now lived and for the first time in her life she felt desperately lonely.

The gun peeked out the side of her dress as she moved; waiting for the car to come to a stop. She could feel Alexander's gaze follow the length of her leg and thigh, settling on her thigh and the exposed holster. "You won't need that," he said, looking at the gun.

"I'm not taking it off if that's what you're asking," she said.

"Please Natalie, just leave it in the car, there's a built in safe over there," he said pointing to a side wall. "I'd rather you not bring it in, it may upset the other guests."

She wasn't happy about leaving it, but the thought of rubbing her thighs raw didn't appeal either. What harm would there be if she left it in the safe? It was an invitation only party and with guards at the door it had to be relatively safe, didn't it? She turned her back and unhooked the holster from around her thigh, wrapped up the gun and placed it into the locked box in the wall.

Chapter 11

They passed through the four massive guards who each watched her with a steely gaze, snapping back to attention as they passed through the white front doors.

She could hear the music as soon as she stepped into the long hallway. It pulsed softly with a sweet sound and an even beat, pulling her towards the middle of the house. She started down the hallway, only a step or two in front of her client when a scream caught Natalie off guard. She turned, searching the corridors and hallways, finding nothing. "What was that?"

She waited for a response from Alexander as she concentrated on listening for any sign of a problem and turned back towards him. In the second that it took for her to turn, search the corridor and back again he had vanished. She had lost her client.

_What the fuck?_ Was her first thought before panic welled inside of her as she moved back retracing her steps. "Mr Ash, where are you?" she said, wondering how the hell he could have disappeared without her hearing. When he didn't answer, she tried again, more insistently this time. "Alexander!"

It felt like everything else ceased to exist, like the world ceased to exist and for a moment she thought she was having a panic attack. She walked along the corridor, her heels tapping loudly on the mezzanine floor until she thought she heard a sound, she stopped waited and listened. There it was again. Deep groans drifted to her from behind a door and she opened it, searching the dim for her client. Yellow eyes flashed at her through the darkness as the outside light filtered in.

"Close the door, or join us," said a voice that caused the skin at the back of her neck to crawl.

The moans of the woman drew Natalie's attention as he withdrew himself out from between her legs and slammed back in. She hissed swinging what looked like her leg towards him. Natalie stood stunned as the leg flicked out, reaching down behind him to probe between his legs. No leg could move like that, and she realised with horror that what she was seeing was actually a tail.

He hissed and bucked, driving himself harder and harder as Natalie stood frozen watching the scene before her.

"Fuck her," said the woman flicking her tail towards Natalie. The man pulled himself out of the woman and stepped towards Natalie.

"Ever been fucked by a demon?" he asked. His eyes burned bright with yellow flames. A wave of something she had never experienced washed over her, causing her stomach to roll violently. Natalie groaned, moving backwards and trying not to cry out or throw-up.

"Don't tell me she's a human?" laughed the woman, her legs splayed wide before Natalie. The woman's tail flicked out, inserted itself between her legs. She lay back, closed her eyes as she slid her own tail inside herself. The demon turned back to her, his annoyance evident on his face.

"Wait for me," he growled and leapt on top of her.

Natalie's mind refused to believe what she was seeing and stumbled back, fumbling with the door as she slammed it shut behind her. She stood back in the middle of the hallway listening as their grunts and groans resumed.

_A tail. A demon?_ She thought, moving back from where she had come. _Fucking All Hallows Eve._ Natalie followed the corridor towards the music, wanting to run but knowing she would never work in this business again if her client ended up dead. The walls pulsed to the beat that reverberated deeper inside the house as she walked closer. Two massive wooden doors lay before her, the bronze handles shining, inviting her to turn them and to enter.

Natalie pulled open the doors to a mass of bodies writhing on the floor before her, in a kaleidoscope of colours that stunned her. Alexander stood in the middle, watching her intently. His gaze locked onto her, pulling her in with his blue eyes alone.

She looked around. Men and women dressed in costumes of scales and horns rolled around on the floor; she thought at first it was some massive fight until she focused on the ones closest to her. Fingers fondling and mouths licking, their only concern was their own pleasure. She stood frozen, stunned, unable to distinguish one creature before it blurred into another. She could feel her body react as a hot flush crept its way to her face. _Run,_ she thought client or no client - she was out of here.

_I've waited for you for so long_ , whispered a voice inside her head. _Centuries I have lived, alone, waiting for you to be reborn_.

A sudden realisation hit her. She knew that voice. It had invaded her thoughts since they first met, a voice that she had been determined not to put a name to. Natalie turned, ready to run and she did. She hit the door to the room in an instant, until he called to her. _Don't listen,_ she told herself. But no matter how hard she tried to block him from her thoughts she found she couldn't.

He called to her and she slowed then eventually stopped. She desperately wanted to go back into the room, back to him and she knew if there ever was a chance for her to be happy, to have someone to love and who would love her then this was it. If she didn't turn around right now, then she may never have this chance again and she would be alone forever.

She walked back slowly, until she saw him. Just the look on his face as he waited for her, took her breath away. "I don't understand," she said quietly, glancing behind him to the double doors.

"I have searched forever for you, every record and every database that has ever existed, until I found you again."

"Found me?"

"When you were photographed last month my people noticed you, they sent me the picture of you. But, I wasn't sure until I came here and met you in person, as soon as we met I knew. It was undeniable, the connection we have, do you not feel it?"

She could no longer lie, not to herself or to this man that she craved for. "Yes, I can feel something. But I can't..." she said, shaking her head, afraid to speak those words.

"It is us, our bond. The fact that you can hear me in your mind is proof of our connection, our love."

Natalie's world shifted and the room spun as she fought to understand what he was saying. The hypnotic sound of his voice filtered through her, dispelling any fear or confusion that nagged at her thoughts.

"That's it; break through the barrier of your mind. Break down that wall and you will know what I say it the truth. Come back to me, to us and we will show you how special you truly are."

"I don't..." she said, stumbling towards the door, as a part of her said that this was no party for her.

_Wait, Natalie. Please remember_ , came his voice inside her head. She wanted to be rid of all of this, to be rid of him for once and for all.

Flashes of her life moved through her, her training, her lovers, the reason she moved around, searching for something...searching for _him_. She tried to deny it, deny the connection she felt when they first met. A wall broke inside of her and fractured memories came flooding to her - Alexander had been her lover. She stopped, turning back towards him. The realisation must have shown on her face.

"Come back to me Natalie," he said, holding out his hand.

It was as though she was no longer herself, one part of her wanted her to run and never look back, but another part of her wanted him. It was the later part of her that overrode her now and she moved, shaking off the shackles of her mind and walked back into the room and to him.

In a breath he was beside her, leading her through the ocean of moving, rolling bodies. He held her hand, his touch felt like ice as he knelt and pulled her down with him. The feel of his lips came to her mind a moment before he kissed her, and she knew in that moment she had kissed him before. It was all she could do not to lose herself in that moment. Her memories retraced the trail of his lips on her skin and this only intensified the need within her.

Natalie was on fire, inside and out. She drowned in the desperate need inside herself and melted onto the ground before him. She could only see him, his ice blue eyes and hard body, so she never noticed when others touched her, sliding their hands along her thighs, her waist and her breasts.

It felt as though a hundred hands touched her, seeking the warmth of her body and the touch of her skin while his face commanded her attention. She had never felt like this before, never been touched and caressed like she was now.

The most exciting encounter she had ever experienced was a drunken quick fuck in the darkened alleyway near home; at least Chris had enjoyed it. But there had never been anything like this, nothing that made her feel this...complete. She closed her eyes and leaned back as she focused on the feel of Alexanders hands, as they ran along her legs and under her dress, to expose the garter belt she wore.

Natalie opened her eyes and looked down, shimmering silver hands and fingers reached for her, running along her stomach to cup her breasts. _Not Alexander,_ she realised, it was something else.

_She wants to love you_ , he whispered in her mind.

"Why?"

_You are my wife and her queen. All of this is yours_. He cast his gaze over the room. Natalie followed his gaze as tongues, tails and snarls filled the air, their hunger and desire was intoxicating and it only seemed to fuel hers.

Her panic, caught her breath. "But they are..."

_Your family...our family,_ he said inside her mind, his voice soft and soothing, replacing the confusion inside of her. _Relax, enjoy her touch._

The silver creature touched her tenderly, her emerald eyes were filled with hope and love and Natalie felt the impact of this as the last threads of doubt left her. She was a shimmering sea of silver, as the lights bounced of her body. Her grey hair fell around her green eyes and sensual lips. She looked so young, to Natalie as she moved next to her, rubbing her breasts against Natalie's. Her skin felt smooth and scaly, like the feel of polished stones as Natalie ran her hands over her.

She had never touched another woman, let alone someone like her. Natalie trailed her hands over the swell of her waist and over the hollow of her stomach until it flared upwards feeling the tiny smooth grey scales of her body. She focused on nothing else but the feel of her flesh in her hands and she cupped her breasts, softly kneaded them. Natalie watched her breathe deep, sucking in sharp gasps as Natalie rolled her nipple in her fingers. A long thin tongue flicked out at her and disappeared into her mouth and Natalie wondered what it would be like to kiss her. She lowered her mouth to her shiny lips and kissed her, moving her soft lips over Natalie's. Their mouths broke apart and Natalie gasped with the sensation.

The creature opened her eyes and stared past Natalie to Alexander as he nodded at her.

She says that you are her queen, as only her queen as made her feel like this.

Silver hands reached for her Natalie, rubbing and searching the contours of her body through the fabric of her clothes. Natalie was intoxicated by the emotion in Alexander's face as he lowered his body to hers and kissed along her legs, trailing his way up to her thighs. He opened her legs wide as his hands and grabbed the soft material, sliding it up and over her thighs, lifting her slightly as he moved it over her hips and then her breasts until it slid to the floor.

She lay on the floor exposed. Her only defence was the soft black lace of her bra, panties

Alexander smiled looking down at her. _If I wasn't already dead, my heart would surely stop, seeing you like that._

Movement tore her gaze away from him as others reached out to her, covering her body in feathered touches, moving along her arms and shoulders, moving down her body. She was carried away in a sea of hands, silver, green and some with soft black fur. Their touch was tender and demanding and she was filled with a desperate need. Natalie lay back as hands were replaced with mouths and her wave of pleasure carried her away.

The deep pressure built within her and she cried out as a tongue trailed its way between her legs, delving between the silky folds of her body. She could feel herself shudder as she flew headlong into the bliss her body craved. Her mouth was dry and she didn't know if she could speak. "Ohhh myy Godd," she moaned, clenching her fists as she struggled to find the words. "I want you," she murmured to Alexander.

She didn't know if he heard her or not, so she opened her eyes. He stared down upon her, watching her as her orgasm swept her away, his eyes shining bright with his excitement. His chest was hard and pale as she knew it would be and he pushed down his pants until he stood there naked before her. Her body trembled at the sight of him, following the lines of his body until she was held mesmerized by the length of him.

Natalie sighed as he lowered his body onto hers as hands and tongues continued. She lifted her head watching him slide his fingers inside her, she was wet, so wet and it was all she could do not to rush headlong into oblivion. She quivered, knowing she could take no more and whispered, "Please."

She could feel the tip of him press against her and lifted the top half of her body to watch him slide his shaft inside of her, filling her until she could take no more.

_I will make you mine again Natalie and this is where it will start,_ he whispered, but his words were lost on her.

The coldness and size off him shocked her, but as sudden as it bought her back from the brink of her release it rushed her headlong into it, tipping her over the edge. He held her body and rocked back and forwards inside of her, spreading her legs wide around him as her body tried its best to expand around him. He slid out, rubbing on the spot that caused her to cry out and her legs trembled and he drove into her again and again. The feel of him inside of her felt so familiar to her, so natural _._ Like she had done this a thousand times

She whimpered and arched her back as her orgasm exploded within her and Alexander pushed further and further inside of her, filling his own need now that she had hers. He rocked her body under his strength as he pulled her towards him. She could see his teeth slip out over his lips like fangs. _Fangs, cold body, inhumanly strong and powerful,_ and the realisation hit her. He was a vampire.

She felt the pull of his gaze; it commanded every cell of her body. He looked into her eyes and it felt so natural for her to turn her head to the side exposing her neck for him. The pulse of her life called to him, he looked at her, the question floating in to her mind. _Join me?_

"Yes" she said, shuddering around him as he filled her with his seed and pierced her neck with his teeth.

"Stop!" bellowed a voice, cutting through the fervour of insistent fingers and piercing teeth.

In one instant Alexander was ripped from her body. Blood flew from the bite on her neck as his fluid seeped out from between her legs, leaving her unprotected from the eyes of the stranger.
Chapter 12

The room changed instantly from the sounds of passionate coupling, into cries of annoyance and anger. The silver creature hissed and moved back, as Natalie lifted her hand, feeling for the wounds on her neck. Her fingers probed at two small holes and gasped with the pain, looking at her hand as it came away covered in her own blood. The stranger stared at her laying there, his focus not on the delicate parts of her body that lay exposed for him to see, instead his eyes moved from the blood on her hand to the wounds on her neck.

She could see the waves of heat as it radiated off his body like the simmering asphalt on hot summers day and the temperature in the room grew considerably. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she wiped it away, forgetting her fingers were covered in blood she smeared it across her face. The stranger's eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back in a sneer as he turned to Alexander, looking at his naked body and then back to her. She tried to organise her thoughts and focus on what was happening as she stared up into his eyes that blazed red and seemed to be directed at her.

"How can you do this?" he said, screaming at her, and then turned back to Alexander. They stood facing each other; Alexander was angry, but no more than the stranger who glared back at him. Natalie didn't know if she should try to stop what she was sure was about to happen. The stranger seemed to be enraged about what was done to her.

"It's okay," she said reaching out with her bloody hand towards them, feeling slightly faint.

His eyes seemed to flicker yellow and black as he looked down at her. _It must be a trick of the lights,_ she said to herself. His expression seemed to soften as he stared at her face and then his eyes focused on her neck and the anger returned. The heat in the room became unbearable and it seemed to be connected with his anger.

She pulled the black stained dress back on, trying to cover herself with what was left of it. Her nipples protruded through the torn black fabric that had been marked with nails and claws; at least they hadn't cut her.

She looked over at the other creatures now as they moved away from the two men that stood before her; it was a wise decision on their part. Some hissed their dislike towards the stranger, others were quiet and wary. Alexander's lips were pulled back, exposing long white teeth that were still tainted with the red of her blood. "Get out!" Alexander said growling, "This is not your business!"

"You know it is, Vampire. That's why you seem to have wasted no time in getting her into your bed and her blood into your mouth, is it not?" His voice was low and menacing, the heat from his body shimmering through the air, like he was nothing but a mirage.

"How did you find her?"

"How dare you!" he said, yelling and turning towards her, although his words were directed at Alexander. "You think you're the only one who knows her? The only one who..."

"You never knew her, like I knew her, Djinn," Alexander said cutting him off as he turned towards Natalie.

The stranger turned his anger towards Alexander and he clenched his hands beside his body. Natalie could have sworn that she could see the small lick of flames flare from his fists. _Flames? What kind of creature was this Djinn?_

A sudden feeling of déjà vu flooded Natalie as she watched the two before her. The sensation of a hard stone floor and the smell of dirt and blood flooded her senses causing her to rock back. She shook her head and felt along her body making sure she was whole. Alexander's lips were pulled back into a sneer and Natalie could see flames leap from the hands of the stranger before her. She felt as though this has happened before, this exact moment, but somewhere else where she had lay on a hard stone floor and the scent of blood filled her.

That thought shocked her, she could feel with her whole body this had happened, somewhere else, not here. Natalie looked around the room at horned, scaled and tailed creatures with a growing sense of confusion and anger. It was like she had been drugged with the sound of Alexanders voice and now that he stood silent, it was beginning to wear off.

Natalie stumbled to her feet, she could feel moisture from Alexander slide out of her body and she swallowed down the hot bile that seemed determined to rise inside of her. "What the hell was happening?" she asked, her voice shaky as she tried to gather herself.

It was then she felt her resolve snap inside of her. The first faint flickers of her anger, bursting through the haze. She was pissed-off, standing there while these men fought over her like she wasn't even there _._

She had never in her life felt this way, non-existent while these men, these...creatures fought over her. She never in her life felt more in need of her Glock than she did at that moment because there was nothing she would like to do more, than to put a bullet into the ground between them. She needed to do something, _anything_. So she stepped over the sprawled multi-coloured bodies, picking up her underwear, then throwing it back down because it hung in two and walked out of the room.

She was about half-way to the front door of the house when she felt the blast of air hit her, almost driving her to the floor and she was grabbed from behind. "Wait, Natalie my love. Let me explain," said the soft, seductive voice of Alexander.

She turned towards him, jerking her hand from his steel grasp. "Explain," she said through gritted teeth.

"What I say is true, please believe me. I never wanted to hurt you, I never wanted..."

"You know," she said cutting him off. "Since I met you it's only been about you, you want this; you want that. And now I'm going to tell you what I want."

"What is it?" he said, whispering, his eyes searching hers, looking for some trace of what she didn't know.

"I want to get the _fuck_ out of here and if you so much as lay a finger, to stop me, I'm going to tear your fucking heart out," Natalie said, her tone icy as she lowered her gaze to his hand that was wrapped around her arm, until it fell away.

The stranger stood leaning against the wall staring at her with the corners of his mouth curled, watching the scene before him, while his eyes flickered with red flames.

The limousine was nowhere to be seen when she walked from the house, the sky dimming into the darkness of night. Her dress gapped, exposing parts of her body that should be kept hidden from public view and she had left her shoes behind. She had nowhere to go, no job and no apartment, she had nothing. For the first time in a long time she felt the silky wetness of her tears slide down her face.

"I can give you a lift if you want?" said the voice that had sounded so savage to her only moments ago. The stranger stood behind her, looking at the night sky, as though he knew she would be ashamed for another to see her cry. Natalie swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat; it was several moments before she could even speak.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered not wanting to look at him.

"Only for you to be safe," he said. "That's all I ever wanted."

There were not many options available to a woman with torn clothing, no underwear no shoes, no phone and no money so she did what she needed to do. "Yes, I'll take the lift. But touch me and I'll kill you."

He chuckled, still staring into the night sky and whispered, "I'm not that easy to kill."
Chapter 13

Natalie looked up to the open lounge room window to her apartment, pressed the button for the electric window and the sound of the party flooded in.

"We have to talk," said the stranger. "I realise this is not a good time, but I think when you hear what I have to say you will understand why the insistence."

"Who are you? I mean, I don't even know your name," she said.

"My real name has not been said in thousands of years, and for me that is a good thing. But you can call me Malik."

"Fine," she said sighing as she stared up at the apartment. The squeals of delight that echoed down caused her to wince. "But I warn you Malik, this is not going to be pretty."

She got out of the car and walked up the three flights of stairs to her apartment. The walls and floor vibrated violently from the music that pumped from her expensive stereo, causing the speakers to distort painfully. It was one of the few things Natalie had bought for herself in her attempt to make the place feel like her own after years of having nothing but her memories.

She bashed on the door with a closed fist listening to what was obviously one of Chris' bachelor parties in full swing. No one answered so she thumped loudly, causing the door to vibrate. "Fuck this," she muttered and stepped back, positioned herself side-ways to the door, pivoted and smashed the lock with her bare feet. The lock popped, smashing the door against the wall and Natalie stepped into the apartment with Malik in tow.

Chris stood naked amongst a group of young girls, who by the look of them were barely in their twenties; the shocked expression on his face as he went from Natalie to Malik was priceless. She would have laughed at the absurdity of the scene before her if it wasn't for the fact that a flame-eyed stranger stood behind her.

"I thought you said you were leaving?" Chris spluttered as he groped around for his clothes.

"Yeah, well," Natalie said to him, eyeing the young women as they pouted their annoyance at being disrupted. "Get out," Natalie said to them coldly.

"Chris?" one said. Her whiny voice only seemed to intensify Natalie's anger.

Natalie looked at Chris, her gaze cold and empty. "Tell me Chris, what happened to your cheating arse the last time this happened?"

"You broke my arm in three places," he said, swallowing. The noise carried through the room to her. She knew when her words were all that were needed, and when she needed to get physical. "And what did I tell you would happen if that ever happened again."

"That you wouldn't use your hands, next time, you said, you would use your knife."

"Get them out of my house, and take your fucking arse with them." Natalie couldn't help it, but her fingers twitched with the need to get dirty and bloody, she needed it like a drug. It was something she always felt, always needed, normally she would run, she would fight, but this time she felt the need smother her, she had been humiliated and wronged somehow, she could feel it like the wetness between her thighs.

The mutt whined as she passed him in the hall and she reached down to ruffle his ears. She would have liked to have kept him, but her life was complicated enough as it is, without adding another male to it, even if it was just a dog. She turned and walked off towards the bedroom, as she heard the frantic whispers of Chris and his bitches as they let her apartment.

Her new, expensive satin sheets were rumpled; dark wet patches covered most of the lower sheet, while the top one lay beside the bed on the floor in a heap. She ripped them off, tearing them at the seams, walked out and stuffed them in the bin, stepping on something small and thick. Chris and his whores had fled her apartment as soon as she walked from the room and in his haste he left his wallet behind.

She opened it, removed the cash, walked over and hurled the leather from the window. She felt better now, more in control and allowed herself a moment to breathe and relax. Malik stood watching her with interest, his arms crossed over the thickness of his chest. She turned, shrugged out of the straps of what was left of the black dress and let it fall from her body as she walked naked from the room and into the bathroom.
Chapter 14

Malik sat across from her, his eyes flicked tendrils of fire that turned from a yellow to a deep red when he stared at her. He had information that Natalie needed to know, that's why he was here, but now that she sat with her wet hair dripping along her breasts he seemed hesitant. She had stepped from the shower, dried her body and dressed in her running clothes, she had kilometres to kill. Running eased her mind; it was her time to think, to work out all of her problems, with the pounding of her feet on the pavement and after tonight she needed it.

"Tell me how many tours in the war with Afghanistan did you complete?"

"Two, but I don't see what this..." Natalie began, but Malik cut her off.

"Wait, please. And did you ask to go back?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you?" He said, moving closer and the fire in his eyes burned brighter.

"I don't see what this has to do with anything," Natalie said standing up, feeling as though in some way she was being cornered.

"I am not here to harm you Natalie, please. I wouldn't be that stupid."

Her heart thundered in her chest as she watched him stand and move cautiously towards her, the palms of his hands splayed open, to show her he meant her no harm, but from the way her body was acting, she felt he meant another kind of harm, one that she couldn't afford. There was no way she was going to let two men get under her skin, she couldn't. But she could feel herself already slipping, already breathless with her heart pounding inside her chest as she looked at him.

"Why didn't you go back Natalie, why didn't you go back to that hell of dirt and death? Tell me Natalie, why didn't you go back?"

"I...I killed someone," Natalie said, the vision of dirt, dust and blood revived itself in her memory and she shook her head to push it away.

"Just someone? You can do better than that Natalie, tell me how many did you kill?"

She shook her head, she did not want this conversation, no, to have this conversation was like poison to her mind, it made her sick. The last time it took her days to climb out of the depression of her mind. But her words left her mouth before she had a chance to pull them back. "Too many to count."

"Have you ever wondered why you seemed to kill so easily, to hurt and maim?"

Her heart beat ferociously inside her chest, threatening to overcome her in a wash of adrenaline. She needed to think and run, but she couldn't move, she could only watch while this monster with flame eyes came towards her, one step at a time. "Yes."

"You kill because that is what you are trained to do," he said softly.

"No, we are trained to save lives," she said, as soon as the words left her mouth she knew they sounded hollow and false.

"I'm not talking about the army in this life. I'm talking about the Ba'akah army, your real army, the only one that you served until this life."

He reached out and touched her, his hand felt hard and calloused as it ran down the length of her face. "I've waited for thousands of years to do that." He whispered as his head lowered towards her, his lips opened slightly and the flames of his eyes burned blue.

She didn't want this, she told herself, but her body told her she did. This stranger, Malik burned her, not with his hands, but with the fire of desire for her in his eyes. He opened his mouth and bit her lower lip, pulling it out, feeling her flesh yield under his teeth. Cries of pleasure escaped within her and she moved forward so that she could feel the hardness of his body under hers.

He kissed her, finding her tongue with his as he led her towards the lounge. The lounge room burned bright with the yellow lights of the high ceilings, the yellow sparkled off the glass windows that covered the front of her apartment. The backdrop of those lights against the blue sparks of his eyes was mesmerizing. He looked down on her, his shirt now gone, the muscles of his chest rippled with sheer desire. "I won't be gentle," he said growling, pushing the hardness of his groin into her, "Not this time, I've waited too long."

She shivered to her core and the heat settled low in her body and intensified with excitement. She nodded, falling in the abyss of blue flames. He reached out, tearing away her clothes until she lay naked. He moved, faster than anyone she had seen before, and before she knew it he pushed her legs wide, moving in between them and reached out to wind his hands around her hair. He yanked her hair, pulling her head back and arching her body and she cried out, the shock intensified the sensations of her desire.

Pain and pleasure rode her body as her head burned with pain and the pleasure as he thrust himself inside her. He was not gentle but that was what she needed. Her desire was animalistic and she enticed him with one single word. "Harder."

One of his arms was wrapped around her, supporting her body as she clutched at him. He lifted her with one arm, walking her backwards until the cold glass of the windows met the flesh of her back. He slid in and out, riding the waves of pleasure within her until she cried out. He moved, pulling himself out, turned her around and lifted her hips so that he slid back in.

She splayed her hands wide on the glass and screamed as her climax shuddered inside her. Malik heaved, pumping harder until he slowed. Groaning he gave one last shove as filled her.

Natalie opened her eyes and looked out, as her heart thundered and she tried to catch her breath and wondered when the day had turned to night. She noticed a figure standing below her, watching her with an open mouth. It looked like Chris had returned to collect his wallet after all.
Chapter 15

"You're a warrior, one of the best I have ever seen," Malik said, his legs still entwined with hers, on the lounge. "That's why killing is so easy for you."

"How do you know this?" Natalie asked, feeling somewhat vulnerable.

Malik turned and grabbed his shirt, handing it to her. Natalie grabbed the shirt and looked at him through narrow eyes. "I know you Natalie."

"So how do you know me?" she asked, slipping her arms into soft material and felt better.

"We were lovers, once," he said turning away.

_Lovers,_ even the word uttered from his lips caused desire to flare in her and she couldn't help but feel a sense of the familiar. She couldn't trust her body around this man...this creature with fire in his eyes and thick black hair. She reached out, sliding her fingers upwards from the nape of his neck to twine in his hair. The feel of him under her hands and the look of desire in his eyes almost bought her undone. She wanted him to hurt her in the most desirable way and this in itself was dangerous. No, she could no longer trust herself and she desperately needed to think.

"I need you to leave now, I need to think and try to make sense of all of this."

He looked at her with a mixture of longing and sadness then nodded. "I just ask one thing before I go."

"What?" said Natalie, desperate to be rid of him before she melted again in the fire of his eyes.

"Don't allow yourself to be swayed by his words, and please, whatever you do..." He stopped, breathed deep and tried to control the anger in his words, even though they still came out in a growl. "Don't let him bite you."

He leaned over, kissed her softly and hovered near her ear, breathing deep. "I have waited for this moment for so long, all I ask is that you don't believe every word the vampire says."

He stood and stepped back into his black pants, clasping the black belt around his waist. Natalie rose and started to pull off the shirt, until he shook his head. "Keep it, you'll find my number in the pocket. When you're ready to talk call me."

Natalie watched him turn and grab his shoes, his muscled waist and back rolling in waves under his flesh and he bent and stood. He turned and looked at her, giving her a small smile and walked from her apartment.

Natalie sat and waited for his steps to fade, wrapping the silk black shirt around her. It smelled faintly of cologne and the deep muskiness of his body, enveloping her in a wave of desire. She waited for her thoughts to come, for the sting of her anger as she berated her own thoughts and actions, but it never came, all there was left was a longing so intense that she could have sworn she felt in pain.

She rose, locked the door and walked back into the bathroom to shower for the second time that night.

Chapter 16

She laced up her joggers and slipped in earphones, selecting something edgier/harder, something that suited what she was feeling, and ACDC sounded about right. She slipped from her apartment and headed toward the glistening city lights on the water with Brian Johnston's guttural voice screaming in her ears to fire her guns.

She ran, pumping her long legs along the pavement, she needed to burn kilometres and visions from that day in her mind. She had never acted like that before in her life, she had never let go and allow her body to override her will. Her body felt tender in places, places that hadn't had so much attention for a very, very, long time and she couldn't help but smile, even if it did leave her emotionally wrung-out.

She whipped by others out running, people walking along the water. Her smile seemed infectious and she even earned a wink from a younger guy who thought he could keep up with her, well not for long. She surged ahead, leaving him behind with the beat of her feet and the music pumping in her ears.

She needed answers to the cryptic pieces of information that were swimming around in her head. Somehow these...people thought she was someone else, a warrior and a queen to these creatures. She would go and see Alexander tomorrow and demand answers. Tomorrow she would figure this out and get her gun back.

Chapter 17

She climbed out of the cab in front of the Shangri La and approached the desk. "Can you please tell me if Mr Ash is still staying in the Royal Suite?" she asked the desk attendant and flashed her Security Identification. She found that most people didn't take much notice of the licence, it came down to your voice and the way you held yourself and today she demanded respect.

"Sorry Ma'am, Mr Ash checked out this morning," said the attendant watching her with interest.

"Okay, did he happen to leave a message for a Natalie Sommers?"

"One moment and I'll check," he said, moving along the counter and dipped below coming up with nothing. "Sorry Ma'am, no message."

"Shit," Natalie said which earned her a stifled smile from the attendant. She turned and walked from the hotel.

There was only other place that Alexander Ash would be, and she walked back to the taxi rank and slid into the nearest yellow cab and gave the address to the driver.

She handed the cabbie more than enough to cover the fare, the extra was for getting her there in one piece, and headed towards the massive white front doors. She never noticed how luxurious this place was and now that she wasn't in work mode she looked around. The manicured gardens and water feature wound around the path until you hit the front doors. There was a massive door knocker that sparkled as the light hit it. Natalie leaned closer, running her fingers along the length of it and felt the bumps that she was sure were diamonds. She shook her head. _Bloody rich people._

The door opened before she had a chance to bring the diamond knocker down against the door and announce herself. Yellow eyes looked down at her and a smile spread across his face.

"Well, if it isn't the human."

"You?" she said moving back as visions of him walking naked towards her flashed back at her.

"I see you remember me. Well come in, Alexander wouldn't want his human companion waiting outside like some runaway, now would he?" He moved aside to let her through.

He closed the door behind her and moved around so that she followed him along the hall. His chuckles were annoying and somewhat threatening as he said, "Now don't get lost; you know what happened the last time."

She was sure a heat flushed its way to her cheeks. "What are you?"

"I told you last night, a Demon," he said over his shoulder as they continued along the hall.

"Sure," Natalie said, her voice trembling only slightly, "I was just hoping."

"What? That it was all just a dream, a hoax?" he said with a laugh. "No my queen, it was most certainly not a dream." He moved aside and opened a door for her to enter.

"Don't call me that," she said walking through and immediately focused on the movement on the other side of the massive room.

Alexander stood and turned towards her, focusing his ice blue eyes on her and once again she was swept along by a wave of desire within her. _What was it with these guys?_

He smiled and held out his hands towards her. She didn't know what to do, how to act, so instead she reached out and shook his hand. He looked down as she pumped his hand in the air, then back towards her eyes. She could see that he was in pain with her behaviour. "I see he has filled your head with his half-truths and your body with his seed."

Natalie dropped her hand away from his as the flush that had only just left her cheeks, burned hot again. She was shocked by her own actions, but to have them thrown in her face by the one responsible hurt. "How dare you...?"

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I only wanted..." he cut the sentence off and it died away, leaving her uncomfortable in his presence. "Please forgive me," he said finally.

"I came here for answers and my gun, but if you're not going to give them to me, and throw my own actions into my face, then I'll just leave."

"Please, stay. I promise I'll hold my tongue where he is concerned." Alexander said moving away into the room. "Can I get you something to eat or some refreshments?"

She hadn't eaten all morning; her fridge had been left bare by her loser ex-boyfriend, she didn't trust her tone to be friendly so she just nodded.

"Very well," Alexander said as Natalie heard movement behind her. She turned watching as a shimmering figure approached her. She moved gracefully, the top of her body bouncing light from her. She wore steel grey slacks and an emerald green halter top that barely covered her breasts. She lifted her gaze and smiled at Natalie, her eyes matching the emerald of her top. She was stunning and Natalie remembered the way she touched her, kissed her and it took all of her effort not to go to her, to feel her again.

She placed a tray next to Alexander, filled with fruits of every kind and some that Natalie had never seen before, swishing her tail along behind her through a discrete slit in the material. Natalie watched mesmerised and open mouthed as this creature moved around, placing small plates and silver cutlery out for her. She turned and smiled moving up to her and kissed her softly on the lips, her words were a whisper. "My Queen."

Natalie was overcome by her beauty and couldn't stop herself from reaching out and touching her smooth skin as her lips pressed harder on hers. She had never seen anything like this creature, never in her wildest dreams could she think that someone like this existed, and why she felt so drawn to them.

"Careful," said Alexander and Natalie pulled away, her breath coming fast. The creature smiled and flicked out a long thin tongue that ran over her lips and disappeared.

"What are you?" said Natalie, watching her drop her head, her smile spread across her face.

"Asylia is what we call a Serpentalias. We have many here in our employ, most stay hidden behind these walls. But they are devoted and handy to have at your back in a fight, aren't you, Asylia?"

"My King, you are too kind," she said, her voice clipped and strange.

"Serpentalias?"

"Yes, they are loosely related to your snakes, although with some added appendages, especially the men."

"I need some answers Mr Ash," said Natalie, turning her attention towards him. She watched him wince with her effort to distance herself.

"I know you are angry and I will try to give you all the answers you need, so please Natalie, sit and eat while I try to explain."

His words were smooth and alluring and given her actions of the previous night she paced the floor while he spoke, making sure she remained focused and in control of herself.

"The name you had when we were married the first time was Kasia. You were so young when we fell in love and you had to fight for us to be together, but in the end we were. We swore an oath to be together for all eternity and that's an oath I am determined to keep."

She stopped pacing and looked at him. It felt strange to hear him speak of her as not only his wife but as another person. "So, you are immortal?"

"Yes," he said, his gaze finding her, "Forced to live for eternity, searching for you."

"I'm sorry Alexander, this all seems so far-fetched. I mean, everything." She commenced her long strides up and down, although this time at a much slower pace.

"I understand, ask me anything and I will only tell you the truth."

"Okay," she said slowly, searching her mind for some kind of starting point. "The yellow-eyed arsehole with the attitude, he is a demon right?"

"Leron, yes he is a demon," Alexander said with a chuckle.

"And you believe I am your wife re-incarnated?"

"You are her, your memories of me, last night proved that. You feel something, I know you can. From the moment we met there was an undeniable connection."

Alexander's silken voice carried her away to the events of last night. Her reaction to both Alexander and Malik was too strong not to have some deeper connection a deeper meaning. Even listening to his voice now she knew that it was only a matter of time before she lay in his bed, felt his satin sheets under her body while his cool lips licked their way from her breasts and along her stomach to nestle between her thighs. Her thoughts of him were so automatic that she found it hard _not_ to think about him.

Her gaze settled on his mouth as her mind played out the fantasy in her head until the silence of the room bought her back to reality. She realized he had stopped speaking and stood there watching her with an intensity that made her shudder.

The room blurred around her as Alexander moved too fast for her eyes to follow and then he was leaning over her, his lips, she saw now were dangerously close to her body.

"Do you know what it does to me, to have you think like that?" he said, his voice barely a whisper. She could hear the torment in his voice, the way it sounded strained as though her thoughts alone had almost bought him undone. "Do you know what it did to me to listen as you touched yourself in the room next to me, thinking about me, wanting me?"

The image of her fantasy slipped back into her mind and in her fantasy she felt him lower his mouth to her thighs, his cool breath on her skin as his fingers slipped inside of her, probing, searching for the places that made her lift her thighs towards him, and open her legs wider. Alex cried out in front of her, his eyes closed and his fist clenched at his side. She could see the white tips of his teeth as they ran out with his excitement.

He opened his eyes to look down at her; then moved his face so that he brushed the side of hers and whispered in her ear, "If you keep going Natalie, I will not be able to control myself. I...want you and I mean to have you. But please don't take my treating you with kindness for a weakness, as it is far from the truth."

The vision in her mind vanished, although the heat in her body still remained. She didn't know why she felt like this. She had been around men all her life, but never had she felt almost desperate for their touch, their attention.

"Come, let us sit and talk for a while longer," he said, trying to control himself as he held her hand in the coolness of his, and lead her through the door and deeper into the massive house.

"Is this place yours?"

"Yes, and yours if you want?" he said, turning towards her so she felt the weight of his words. Yes, she felt them and the implications that came with it.

"So you are like a king to these creatures?"

"Yes, many I saved along the way, but most of them you have saved."

"Me?"

"Yes, my love, you."

Natalie felt the laughter caught in her throat and she had to stifle her hand with her mouth before it escaped. "It seems crazy."

"Does it? You feel a connection to all of those you rescued; otherwise you would have run screaming from the room last night." He laughed. "You probably wouldn't have gotten past the demon. The last one that we thought was you didn't."

"The last one?"

"Yes, well there were a few women that my men found that looked almost identical to you, and I'm afraid in my haste that I invited them back to the party without the proper investigations being made. They were – horrified." He said sighing.

"And did you fuck them too?" The words came out before she even registered that she was going to say them. She stood, horrified by her words, but dreaded his answer even more.

"Yes, I did." He said, coldly. "I fuck anyone that looks even remotely like you, the need for you so too strong, it overwhelms me. I am a fool, a hopeless fool who will fall for someone at the hint that they might be you, and I will for all eternity."

She stood ready to leave this place, with its walls white like heaven and its occupants of hell. His words stung, they hurt her and she couldn't understand why.

"Do you think I enjoy this?" he said, turning towards her, his voice no longer smooth and sensual but hard, filled with hurt. "Do you think that I do not think of meeting my final death every day that I do not have you? This is the greatest torture that you can bestow on another, to spend an eternity searching for your one true love, over and over." A single tear slid down along his cheek. It glistened like a ruby, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. He flicked it away with a handkerchief as though it had only been an illusion, while his words told her it had not. "Every day I rise and ask myself the same damn question. If I die today, how can I find you tomorrow?"

She didn't know what to say, but there was no denying that she felt her heart ache for him. "I'm sorry," she said walking back to him and wrapping her arms around his body. He was stiff, unyielding to her touch until she rested her head on his silent chest.

"It is not your burden my love, I only want you to have the truth." He said, wrapping his arms around her. He lifted her head and kissed her gently and she opened her mouth for him. "You must go now. I promised myself that I would not pressure you into my bed again. I will wait however, for you to come to me."

"I don't understand?"

"I have made arrangements to stay here in this house for the foreseeable future, until you have made your decision. I will not force you to do anything against your will."

"But I'm not doing anything against my will now," Natalie said softly as the desire to leave abruptly vanished. A part of her wanted to stay here, to be loved by this man. To lie in his bed, and feel his touch on her skin. But another part of her told her to be careful. That there were questions that needed to be answered, and she wasn't sure she would get them from him. She listened to that voice inside her now, the voice of reason and pulled away from him. "Okay, I will go. But I will be back."

"I'm counting on it," he said with a smile.

Chapter 18

Natalie walked along the white halls, towards the front door where the demon Leron waited. Her gun was tucked in the back of her jeans and her phone was in her hand.

"Thank you, come again," he said, as she walked past and he smacked her on the arse, hard. She spun, ready to give him a mouth-full or knock him out. He waited until she turned, gave her a wink and closed the door faster than she could see. It seemed as fast and as lethal as she was, she wasn't even in their league.

There was no denying she felt something for Alexander. But she also couldn't deny that her thoughts were drawn to Malik. She had always been the one in control, the one who was in charge, but not with him. Malik knew what he wanted and he was the one in control. It was like he used her body for his own pleasure, and that had turned her on and made her feel more like a woman than she had in a very long time.

She flipped open her phone and called for a taxi and walked to the nearest main road to wait. It wasn't long before she was in the backseat, gripping the seat while they flew through the city, ending at her apartment.

She spied the black car parked outside her apartment before the cab pulled up out front and couldn't help but feel the flutters of panic inside of her. _What the hell was happening to her? She was never panicked, and especially not about a man._ It was at that moment that she knew that all of this could not be undone. She couldn't run, not this time. No, this time she was too far gone.

She had run from Grayson and the others who stayed long enough to notice her leaving and that was a very short list. She breathed deep, paid the taxi and climbed out and walked up the stairs to her apartment.

Malik stood outside her door, leaning against the frame. The yellow flames of his eyes startled her. It would take her a while to get used to. She lowered her head and cursed herself. _Already planning a future with him Natalie, what the hell is wrong with you?_

He stared at her, there was no, _Hi, how are you, how was your day Natalie._ No, there was nothing like that, with this _what did Alex call him? A Djinn?_ She unlocked the door and walked in, kicking off her shoes as she entered.

She felt exhausted, there were too many voices inside her head, and the only thing she needed was a drink. She walked into the kitchen and watched Malik walk into her apartment while she searched for anything that resembled alcohol.

He stood focusing his flame gaze on her, as she searched the cupboards for anything stronger than the apple juice in the fridge until she couldn't it any longer and stopped, meeting his stare and asked, "What?"

"I'm waiting," he said, without a hint of care.

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to get dressed, so we can get out of here."

The idea of going out didn't really appeal to her, but the thought of staying home with no alcohol appealed to her even less. "Fine," Natalie said, mumbling and headed to the bedroom to shower and change.

She half expected Malik to follow her into the shower while she lathered and shaved her legs, but he never came and so she finished, wrapped her hair in a towel and strode from the bathroom naked.

She slid into a pair of black hipster jeans she barely wore and looked at the business shirts that occupied the small space in her wardrobe that was left for clothes. Her handcuffs, batons, and her combat uniform that she had kept from the army took up most of the space and the safe she had bolted to the concrete floor took up the rest.

It had been four years and she still couldn't fit in to society, her life had been work, training and more work and her wardrobe reflected that. She pulled at a white collared shirt from the hanger, turned towards the bed and spied a small black bag, hidden behind her bedside table.

It wasn't hers that was for sure and she opened it and emptied the contents on her bed. Leather pants and what looked like a very small leather top spilled out onto the bed. One of Chris's many girlfriends must had left it behind and although Natalie knew the pants wouldn't fit, the top looked it might, just.

She pulled it on and laced up the leather straps that zigzagged along the front, but no matter how tight she tied it, it still splayed slightly open at the top. The leather felt soft against her skin, and contoured around the swell of her breasts, emphasizing what she had. _It would have to do;_ she said to herself and walked into the bathroom.

She lined her dark brown eyes, placed a smudge of charcoal black powder along her lids and added a blood red to her lips. _There,_ she said to herself as she sprayed herself with perfume, _that will do it._

She zipped up her heeled boots and walked into the kitchen. Malik hadn't moved from where she left him last and she couldn't help but notice his reaction when she entered the room. He raised one eyebrow as his gaze settled on her chest and moved slowly along her body. The vest was shorter than the waist band of her jeans and she breathed a silent thank you for all the sit-up and crunches she had endured.

She knew he was impressed but he never said a word as he turned and walked from her apartment.

Chapter 19

They cruised along the city streets with the music playing loud; it was something with a good beat, so Natalie didn't mind. Malik pulled up just past the bright lights of the casino and parked the car. He hadn't said a word since they left the apartment and at first Natalie thought this was strange, but the faster he drove along the streets she more she seemed to settle and before long she relaxed into the silence between them.

Natalie climbed out of the car and followed him towards the massive line-up outside a club called 'The Cave'. She could see that the crowd outside was getting restless, as they walked past them and towards the entrance. The music belted out through the open doors that were guarded by two of the biggest Maori's she had ever seen. She expected them to be stopped at the door, but instead the two Islanders nodded at Malik and moved aside for them to pass. Malik nodded back as he stepped through the doors and into the belly of the cave they descended.

He stepped down into the club with its throbbing beat and headed towards the bar, which Natalie was thankful for. He held up two fingers to the bartender and seemed to be served almost immediately. A glass was pushed in front of Natalie and she grabbed it, taking a sip. It was rum, but none like she had ever tasted and before long she had emptied her glass. Malik stared at her empty glass and then her. She shrugged her shoulders. She couldn't talk; her breath was caught in her throat. It seemed like this happened when Malik looked at her with flames in his eyes and it was as though heat from his eyes filled her, settling in her thighs. Time stopped for her, she knew he could sense her desire and at that moment she didn't care.

The music filled the air around her and after her fourth drink she started to relax and enjoy herself. It had been years since she had gone to a club and longer since she danced and suddenly that is what she wanted to do. Dance.

She pushed away from the bar and motioned Malik to the dance floor; he shook his head but nodded for her to go. Her body had been made for fighting and training, not for dancing and definitely not for sex, so she felt uncoordinated and clumsy at first as she moved onto the dance floor. The beat was steady and loud and before she knew it she was moving like she hadn't in a long time and the music took her away.

It wasn't long before she felt a hard body at her back, moving to the same rhythm as her own and she turned around, pleased that Malik had finally decided to join her. It wasn't Malik who danced in front of her, but a devastatingly gorgeous man moved with her. His sandy blonde hair fell past his shoulders and cascaded down his chest. Natalie smiled nervously at him, as he danced close to her body. His long hair flew around his body as he danced. It was longer than hers softening his features, but the hard body underneath told her he was undeniably male.

Natalie looked over towards the bar, searching for Malik. He wasn't where she left him. Instead she found him striding towards them and she could see the determination in his gaze from where she stood.

Natalie moved around the gorgeous stranger, in her attempt at stopping Malik from hurting this man. The blonde haired hunk mistook her actions for leaving and he grabbed her, holding her hips in his hands as he ground his body onto hers. _There's no saving him now_ , she thought to herself, _as beautiful as he was_ , he would disappear when Malik reached them.

Natalie waited for the danger to come. Danger did come, but not from Malik, from herself. Her blonde haired dancer moved her around him and she caught the flash of yellow eyes amongst the crowd. She twisted her neck, sweeping her gaze through the crowd until she found him.

Natalie watched him dance and she was about to make her way towards him, when she saw he danced with another. A stunning dark haired woman wrapped her arms around him, moving her body so that Natalie was unable to see where her body ended and Malik's started. Natalie felt a pang of jealousy so strong she had to stop herself from walking over to them. Her blonde haired dancer did his best to take her mind of Malik and the woman, but fire burned inside of Natalie.

She knew that it would be dangerous for her start anything here and she tried her best to focus on the man dancing in front of her, but no matter how much he smiled and teased her with his muscled body she kept glancing towards Malik and the other woman.

Her blonde haired dancer grabbed her, pulling her close and kissed her. She was stunned and could feel the hardness of his body, below the waist. The air around her seemed to be getting hotter and she looked around as she saw Malik looking at her. He had seen this man kiss her. She knew it just by the expression on his face. He wasn't angry, no he was excited.

Malik moved around so that she could easily see him and turned his attention back to the gorgeous raven haired woman he danced with. Her body was full of curves, which glimmered from the shine on her black leather pants and he watched Natalie as he reached around her body, sliding his hand up along the swell of her buttocks.

Natalie's breath caught in her throat and the anger that flared in her seared her resolve. She was sure that she would be sharing her bed with Malik tonight, but it seemed that he had other ideas. Well, there was no way she was going to stand there and let him torture her, she would never be the kind of woman to let a man torment her. No, she would get her own back.

She grabbed hold of her dancer as the beat in the music changed to something heavier, bolder and pulled him closer. She opened her legs so that his slid inside, resting against her groin as she moved against him wanting him, him to be the one who watched her. She closed her eyes as the beat vibrated inside her body and could feel her dancer wind his hands around her body, pulling her closer, harder against him.

They danced like that and slowly the anger inside Natalie dissipated and was replaced with another kind of heat. She watched Malik, while he caressed the woman he danced with and he watched her while she was touched by her blonde haired dancer until her body felt like a furnace. The need for him was unbearable, it didn't matter that another touched her, caressed her, all she wanted was him and as she melted in the blaze of his eyes, she knew he wanted her too.

Natalie pushed her blonde haired dancer off her body, moving towards Malik with an overwhelming purpose. She could see that Malik discarded the dark haired woman just as easily as he turned towards her. Natalie could see her turn, her protest evident in her expression.

She didn't need to see the words the woman mouthed; she could imagine what they were. She met Malik in the middle of the dance floor. Heat rolled off his body in waves and his eyes had turned from a golden yellow to deep amber that matched her hair. She was afraid to touch him. He had proven to be unpredictable and pushed her out of her comfort zone since the first moment they met. He moved, pressing his body next to hers as they danced, but although she was desperate to be closer, to feel the hardness of him against her, she wouldn't be the one to make the first move. She moved closer and he moved back ever so slightly, so that she felt the brush of his body when they bumped against each other.

She couldn't take any more, her body trembled with pure need and her thoughts were scattered inside her head. She needed to get away from him before she was bought undone and reduced to something that barely resembled herself.

"Hey," said a voice that sounded familiar, as someone grabbed her arm. She stumbled and tore her gaze away from the dancing flames in his eyes and looked up at the long scar that marred the face of Grayson. His surprise was in his eyes, the rest of him was still on Police mode, wary and guarded. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hello. Grayson, I'm here with..." she said stuttering.

"She is here with me," said Malik, cutting in to the shouted conversation. The music threatened to drown their voices out. Natalie watched Grayson regard Malik with cold eyes. She knew he would be sizing him up. It was what they were trained to do. He would come up with the same conclusion that she had when they first met. Malik was strong, his thick body was heavily muscled and hard and he stood almost the same height as Grayson and knowing Grayson he would see Malik as a threat, which meant that it was about to get ugly.

"Let's go over to the bar and have a drink," said Grayson, his voice cold and flat as he stared at Malik. Natalie knew he meant her and his tone said it was more of a demand than a question. Grayson had never acted like this before with her and although part of her wanted to tell him to fuck off she knew that this would probably be the trigger he needed. She had seen Grayson in a fight and the scars he carried were nothing compared to those who hadn't walked away that day.

Natalie opened her mouth to agree and turned towards Grayson until she was stopped by Malik's hand around her arm.

"Don't think you heard me correctly, she is here is with me," Malik said, his voice sounded cool and calm but his body said something entirely different.

Grayson looked at Natalie, his eyes had that faraway look he got when things were about to turn ugly.

"Gray?" said a voice behind him. Natalie looked around his body to see a young red-haired woman who looked at Grayson with concern and as Natalie could see a hint of jealousy. She was probably nineteen or twenty with pouty lips and a slim figure. She was pretty and it was difficult to see Grayson with someone so young and child-like.

"It's okay...Grayson, is it? Well we were leaving now anyway. I've got an urge to slip into something more comfortable." Malik didn't need to finish his statement; the way his eyes trailed over Natalie's body finished it for him.

Natalie felt the blush burn hot across her face and before she knew it she was being pulled towards the door. She looked back and saw Grayson watching her and at that moment his hurt marred his face deeper than his scars.

"Seems like you leave a trail of bodies everywhere you go," said Malik as they walked from the club. Her ears felt dull from the loud music and her heart hurt to leave Grayson like that. He was obviously on a date and she was glad that he was finally moving on from her. Even if it was with another who looked similar to her.

She thought of Alexander and then Grayson. If what Alexander had told her to be true, she did leave behind a trail of men who seemed intent on forever occupying their bed with women who looked like her.

They walked towards the car and Malik moved around to open her door. She was about to protest when he pushed her against the metal of the car, moving in so she could feel his body hard against her and looked into her eyes. "You are the dangerous one, aren't you?"

She was frozen unable to comprehend his words as her mind was frozen with the feel of him. He regarded her with the same wariness that one would a lion and moved slowly off her as a smile spread across his face. "It's a good thing I like a challenge."

"I'm not much of a challenge to you. Last night could have told you that," said Natalie.

"Sex with you is great, but that's not what I'm talking about. If you haven't already figured it out, I want everything, the whole package and I'm not the only one."

Chapter 20

He drove along the city streets while in her thoughts his words settled deep inside of her, finding those dark places on her psyche, the ones she never acknowledged. In her eyes she saw herself as someone different from everyone else. She shied away from family and friends, they finally gave up phoning and chasing her, leaving her to struggle with her life as best as she could. So the sudden interest in her was overwhelming, but that paled in contrast to the need inside of her that wanted to be with these men.

She watched Malik handle the car around the city streets until they swept alongside the harbour. She didn't know where they were headed but she guessed Malik had an idea, she was quickly learning that he was in charge of everything in his world, just like she usually was.

He turned into a small road that seemed to bend to the left and eventually they ended up a tiny lookout. The harbour shimmered underneath them as he switched off the engine and lowered the music so it was soft. He suddenly laughed a deep chuckle that echoed inside the car. "What's so funny?"

"Did you see the look on your boyfriend's face? I thought he was going to start swinging."

"No, he would never cause a scene like that. Grayson is quiet and private."

"Don't be surprised, you tend to make even the coldest of men fill with the heat of desire." He turned towards her as he spoke and she watched the flicker of his eyes dance.

"Why don't others see your eyes like I do?"

"We are connected and so nothing is hidden from you, others see a mirage of brown eyes, not unlike your own." He reached out and touched her, grabbing hold of her around the back of her neck and gently pulled her towards him.

The fire in her ignited under his hands as he touched her, kissed her, whispering, "God, I want you."

He let her go and stepped out of his door and opened the back door. She fumbled with the door handle as her desires overrode her and she clamoured her way into the backseat with him. "Don't tell me," she said whispering, as he reached for her. "You won't be gentle."

He laughed, "Don't worry my warrior, I'll take my time tonight, maybe another time we can explore each other with a bit more force."

She had never encountered that with any of her previous lovers. Even Grayson had yielded to her in the bedroom. She had always been the one in charge, but she realised with a cold shiver that she would not be with this man. He slid his hands under her buttocks and cupped her, pulling her on top of him. She looked down at him and ran her hands through his thick curls. "God, your eyes," she said, her voice barely a whisper, as he reached for her, "They burn blue."

"Yes, they do, but they burn like this only for you and no other."

He tugged at the knot at the top of her vest and it unravelled under his touch exposing the tops of her breasts. He made a soft sound in the base of his throat and leaned forward, running his lips over her flesh. He grabbed her arse tight and flipped her over so quickly she didn't realise it had happened until he pushed himself into her body, grounding their hips together.

She could feel the hardness of him against her; the swell of him pushed the zipper of her jeans into the tender parts of her body. The sensation was both uncomfortable and exciting, she didn't know whether to tell him to stop, or push harder. _Natalie_ , her name whispered through her mind. She knew the voice that spoke her name and it wasn't the fire-eyed creature that pulled at her clothes, no it was someone else. She could picture the ice blue eyes of Alexander in her mind and she felt a stab of guilt inside of her.

She swallowed her guilt as Malik's lips crushed hers, gently pulling on her lips and searching her mouth for her tongue. He turned her over so that she hugged the soft back seat and pulled at her top leaving her in only her bra and jeans. He kissed along her back and she closed her eyes, relishing in the feel of his lips on her body. He slipped his hand around her waist, flicking open the button of her jeans and slid his hands down her waist and along her buttocks, removing her jeans and panties with one swift motion.

The cold night air caused her to shiver until she felt his hand slip between her thighs. His fingers probed her opening and she lifted her hips for his fingers to slip inside. He moved his fingers over her and inside of her until she cried out and buried her face into the seat. His hand slid out of her, moving over her buttocks and she could hear the slide of a zipper as he too shed his clothes. Natalie turned over, eager to see his body again and struggled out of the remainder of her own clothes. He opened the door and slid out, grabbing hold of her and pulling her against him. In a second she was airborne as he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her towards the front of the car.

He laid her on the bonnet, sliding his hands up and over her breasts. His mouth followed the trail of his hands, taking her nipple inside his mouth. He pulled on her soft flesh until she wrapped her legs tighter, pushing him against her harder. The thickness of him against her felt delicious and she moved her hips up and down, enticing him inside of her. She would have liked to take more time, but the nightclub had given her a sense of urgency.

His body glistened in the glimmer of the harbour lights; his skin was almost the colour of chocolate. His chest and shoulders were thick, curved with outline of hard muscles that rippled along his stomach. Natalie wanted to lift herself up, to look at the rest of his body, but the azure blue of his eyes sizzled with need and drowned out everything else. He turned her over, but she stopped and moved back, she wanted to watch his body as it moved over hers, in hers. He shook his head, moaning, "Please," and turned her over, so that her arse was in the air.

She pushed his hand away, tuning back, "I want to watch you."

"I don't want you to see," he said, his voice soft and tender. His words stunned her, what was she in for here? And thought of last night. She had been too caught up in the act to notice anything different but now it seemed obvious. He didn't want her to see what exactly?

She sat up and pulled him to her, reaching down and slid her hands around his shaft. He was smooth, the skin stretched tight and more than ready as she guided him inside her. He moved inside of her gently at first, then with more urgency as he held her by her waist, moving himself in and out of her body.

She leaned back, never taking her eyes away from his. She couldn't see why he was afraid for her to see him, he never changed onto a creature or grew horns, instead he looked kind of sad and then it hit her. She waited; watching him, wanting to make sure what she saw was not an illusion as her breath caught in her throat and the sense of urgency grew inside of her.

She could see it now and she didn't care as her breath caught and her fingers dug into his hands that held her waist. The first shocks of her orgasm shuddered through her and she sat up, sliding her hands up to wrap around him as he too cried out. She could see why he didn't want her to watch him as he filled her with the essence of his own body. He was in love with her. He lowered his gaze now that her shock filled her own expression.

"I didn't want you to know," he said, shaking his head and slowly pulling out of her.

Gone was the cocky, independent and border-line arrogant man that had driven her to the night-club and danced with another until it incensed her. What was left behind was someone softer, sensual and vulnerable. She suddenly wanted more, she wanted him.

"Take me home," she said and watched him look up at her, his hurt splashed across his face. "I want you to make love with me until the sun rises and this time I want to feel you come inside me, over and over."

Chapter 21

She had struggled back into the top, leaving it to gape open as they climbed back into the car. Malik divided his time between watching the busy city roads and her as he drove her home. His gaze sliding along her body to her face and he reached out, bushing a lock of her hair back over her shoulder when it threatened his view as the car swept through the city streets until he pulled up outside her apartment.

She smiled to herself as she unlocked the door, listening to Malik follow her inside and for the first time in her life she felt okay. No, she felt good. She slid down her jeans as she walked into the bedroom, pulling off the leather vest. This time she knew Malik would be eager to follow her into the shower.

The spray of warm water hit her back and Natalie moved backwards, letting the water cascade over her body. She watched Malik shed his clothes as he walked towards her, drifting her gaze over his body and under the bright lights of her bathroom she was able to see him fully for the first time. He was breathtaking.

She had seen her fair share of men, serving in the army and at home as a bodyguard, but none that looked like this. "What are you, Malik?"

"I am a Djinn, something akin to what is known as a Genie," he said, moving into the spray of the water and her arms.

"And you knew me before. I mean, my past life?"

"Yes, I found you near the Red Sea. You were making your way through Egypt into Arabia."

Natalie lathered up her sponge and ran it along the curves of his chest. "So how did we meet?"

His smile lit up his face as he looked down at her. "You tried to kill me."

Shock caused her hand to stop mid-motion as she stared at him. "Well, did I. Kill you?"

"No. Like I said, I'm a little hard to kill," he said as he laughed. "But you gave me a terrible hiding."

"What was I doing near the red sea?"

He shook his head and turned from her, she knew at one that something had happened, something bad and she asked again. "Malik, what was I doing?"

The life had left his words as he spoke and even if she hadn't heard the words he spoke she knew that her life would be forever changed. "You were headed for the Ba'akah army. Makkah was to protect you."

"Who is Makkah and why was she trying to protect me?" Natalie asked, feeling her stomach clench with the thought of long past danger.

"Makkah was your friend, the only one you could turn to. She knew you were in trouble and sent her best warriors to meet you, but it was too late." His laughter died away abruptly, leaving his face cold and stony.

"Why was it too late?" Natalie asked, although she didn't want to hear the answer. Her heart beat faster in her chest and although she knew the words were coming, she tried to block them out.

"You were already dead."

Her hand dropped away from his body and the spray of the water felt like ice. Her gut clenched in a warning, something she had learnt to take notice of. She now regretted her questions and standing there naked. She needed her clothes and the steel grip of her gun, but she knew she would never make it out of the shower as his blazing eyes turned cold and settled on her. She needed to know, even if it meant that history would repeat itself.

_Natalie,_ whispered her name through her mind. This time Alexander's voice was clear and insistent as her instinct screamed at her to run. She opened her mouth to say the words but nothing came out; she swallowed and forced her voice to work. "Did you kill me Malik?"

Natalie, no!

Alexander's voice screamed inside her head, causing her to gasp in pain and Malik lifted his hand towards her. She flinched and stepped back, until the cold tiles of her shower stopped her and she could move no more.

"No, I didn't kill you. I tried to save you." He said, letting his hand fall away. He stepped back away from her and stepped out of the shower as anger rolled off his body. His words were mumbled, hidden underneath his clenched jaw as he stood with his back to her. She could feel his heat now; it filled the room and warmed her instantly. It would be only seconds until she would be stifling.

"Please Malik, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean..."

He turned to her and she could see the intensity of his anger in his gaze. "I made a promise to you and I am trying my best to fulfil that promise, but you are making it hard for me Natalie. History does repeat itself and I find again, I have fallen in love with you. But this time I cannot stand by and let him play his games, let him twist you and turn you until you are no more...Then when he is finished with you, tear out your throat and leave you to die in some filthy alley all alone. No, this time you are mine and if he wants you then he will need to kill me first."

"Who are you talking about Malik?"

"Your husband, Alexander."

Chapter 22

Malik's words triggered something inside of her and the room wavered. She had never fainted before in all of her life, but the room greyed and then she could remember no more.

When she woke she was on her bed and her body shivered. All of her windows were open and she lay naked to the air. "Malik?" she asked wondering what the hell had happened. _Had she fallen asleep during sex?_ God she hoped she hadn't snored. Then it hit her. The shower, her panic and then the heat that rolled of Malik's body as he told her what had happened.

Alexander was her husband and he was also her killer.

She heard Malik's car as he pulled up and seconds later he was standing in the room with her, "I'm sorry; I have to control my temper when I'm around you more. You humans are so fragile."

It was the first time in her life she had ever been called fragile and it was hard for her not to laugh. She could see that his tension eased, although he held in his hands a bottle of what looked like Bourbon. "Is that for me or for you?"

He looked down and shrugged. "Both."

"Well let me get some glasses and then come to bed, because I'm cold," she said sliding along the sheets.

His smile spread across his face and he laughed. "I'll get the glasses, you stay there."

He disappeared, returning with two glasses and a small bucket of ice that he sat beside the bed. He undressed and climbed into bed and Natalie instantly curled up next to him. The last hour had highlighted the fact that she didn't really know the creature that lay beside her, but given her previous attempts at having someone share her life she would rather take her chances with a Djinn than a lying, cheating human.

His touch warmed trails along her body and before long it had turned from soft, tender touches to something more intense and urgent. He reached out and took her glass, setting it aside as he kissed her breasts and stomach, licking his way to the tender flesh of her thighs. He moved carefully, licking at her opening, his tongue leaving trails of heat along her cool skin, as he moved upwards, gently sucking the small hood. She arched her back and spread her legs wider, urging him to go deeper as she was overcome by her own need. His fingers spread her, replacing his tongue as she reached for him as he moved her on top of him. She was lifted as though she weighed nothing and he rolled over so that she could feel him ready underneath her.

He grabbed her hips, lifting her gently as he eased inside of her. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him inside her body as the Bourbon made her feel detached and not like herself. She moved her hips in a circular motion, pushing her hips against him, eager for more of him. He stared up at her and reached out his hand brushing her hair along the swell of her breast as her breath came faster.

He sat up and moved forward without breaking their rhythm, and now lay on top of her as his short, hard thrusts made her gasp while he pushed deeper, harder. She wound her legs around his body and let her emotions sweep over her. It was then she realised that she loved him and that she had always loved him, had always had him just like this, above her, driving his body deep inside her.

"I...I love you," she said with a mind-numbing realisation as her orgasm hit her, driving her past that point of no return. It wasn't the sex that made her say it, hell she had never said it before. But, she felt it. She didn't know why or even how, all she knew was that she loved this creature that throbbed inside of her. She grabbed hold of his waist, driving her fingers into the flesh of his buttocks as she came.

"I love you, Natalie," he said, crying out and with his last thrusts he came inside of her.

They lay like that, with him on top of her, still inside of her and she watched the blaze of his eyes turn from scorching blue to the languorous wisps of yellow flames.

"She has been asking about you, you know," he said, rolling off her and onto his side.

"Who?"

"Makkah."

Natalie sat up, moving her legs to get feeling back into her hips and thighs. "She is still alive?"

"Yes, of course, she is like us. Immortal."

"What is she? I mean, a Djinn like you, or a vampire?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "No one knows exactly, but she is powerful beyond measure."

"Can she help me with all of this?" Natalie said pulling the sheet across her body and wrapping it around him.

"Yes, she can. Will she though, who knows?"

The idea appealed to her, she wanted to get away and after the last few days she needed answers to the many questions inside her head. "Then I'll go to her."

Chapter 23

Natalie stood at the airport, with her ticket in hand set for Egypt. It seemed history was repeating herself, but this time she was prepared.

She had left a note for Alexander, explaining where she was going and that she needed to do this without him. He would be hurt, but no matter what he said to her the facts would always remain the same. She had run from him before and he had killed her, just like she was running now.

Some of the men from her platoon had taken jobs in Egypt as hired guns. She had phoned them, asking for weapons and transport. She didn't know the facts surrounding her death in her original life, but this time she was smarter and trained for fighting.

This time she was determined to live. Malik touched her arm, and she turned to look at him, she knew in her heart that she loved this man, but Alexander would not stop until he either possessed her or killed her. It wasn't her own death that she would fight now; now she had something stronger than self-preservation. She had love.

The End

Do you like your books darker, sexier?

Turn the page for an intro into my dark erotic fiction series Slave to the Coven

Sneak Peek:

Suffer

Slave to the Coven #1

By

Kim Faulks
Prologue

"Liar."

She whispered, urging me awake. I inhaled, opened my eyes, and stared down at my naked body. Pain invaded my head, spreading like poisoned fingers to twist and turn in my mind, warping my thoughts. At first, nothing in this dungeon seemed real—nothing but her, and then everything became real—a little too real.

A woman's face came out of the shadows, snarling. Pain filled my chest. I moaned and the image drew back into the blackness. The demons of my past waited to be conjured by a whisper. But there were no parlor tricks here. No twist of a wrist that made a coin disappear. This magic was cruel and powerful and very, very real.

I cowered on my bunk and swallowed what remained of the whimper, searching the room—not for the demons, but for my desire. She was here—somewhere. I could feel her, hovering behind the flickers from the candles. I strained, trying to scan the room from where I lay, peering between the rough weave of the sack covering my head. Despite the pain and the torture I'd endured at her hands, my body came alive.

I licked my lips, drawing in her scent. Something bloomed inside my chest, dispelling the dark—if only for a moment—something akin to love. I opened my mouth, expelling air, mouthing the words in my mind, but nothing came. I licked my lips and tried again. A harsh croak was all I had and my throat flared with the effort. "I've missed you."

The candle flames winked through the fabric, dancing like Halloween lights. The flames somehow bent toward a shifting shadow inside the room. She possessed the dark, controlling it, just as she did me. I lifted my head higher, following the movement, catching a flare of light against dark skin. My heart raced. Her voice came again. "You love nothing and no one."

I shook my head and forced myself to answer. "Once maybe, but not now. I love you."

She remained out of view. "I don't want you anymore, Derek."

Jesus. In spite of her cruel words I felt my cock shift against my thigh. I licked my lips and swallowed. "Please, don't say that. I won't tell anyone about us, I promise."

"A liar can never be taken at his word and a liar's words earn no favor with me."

I shook my head and the room swayed. I needed to get to her, needed to make her understand. The shackles around my wrists gnawed at my bones. The dull ache flared, ripping through my arm. I swallowed my whimpers. The rattling sound of my chains carried through the room. Her smell overpowered my senses like a drug and I felt the blood rush to my groin. Fuck I need her. I want her. "I'm not lying!"

Her voice echoed around me, whispered words in a language I didn't understand. Ol gohe, ov to ip ki-si-kil-ud-ka-ra, ov I vamad babalon babalond, pi giu eors coraxo, para mazaba vapaah vouina, I toltorgi, butmoni parm zumvali, para bahal cinila, eolis ollag orsaba, od gohia ciceles telochi, malpirgay, Mazaba Lilith! Zamran Lilith!

Her seductive voice penetrated my mind, almost as if her slippery tongue licked my senses. I closed my eyes, lost in the rhythmic chant. At last, her words morphed into something I could comprehend.

"Lilith, the dark seductress. She who leads the hearts of men astray. Who appears in the dreams of the night and the vision of the day, cast your light upon me. I call you. Come, Lilith...."

Her touch made me jump. Electricity ran along my skin. I shivered, growing harder. Her breath blew against my ear, forcing the rough threads harder against the sensitive shell.

"Are you worthy in Her light? Are you good enough to lick my boots?"

The cloth moved, scraping my face, forcing torn fibres into my eyes. Tears blinded my vision. I blinked, searching the room through the tiny holes in the burlap.

She was here, yet to me she remained unseen. Hidden in the shadows of whatever this place was—always out of fucking reach. My cock thrummed with her power. I looked down to see the glistening head welling. My chest was heavy, each breath jagged and harsh. "Where are you?"

"I am neither here, nor not here. You should understand this by now."

I didn't understand. I didn't understand any of this and yet, there was some part of me that didn't care. I caught movement to my left. Before I could react, pain flared like a lick of fire along my chest and slid down my stomach. I bowed my head, arching my back, welcoming everything she gave me and wanting more.

"Keep your eyes closed, Derek."

I squeezed them shut and felt her hands on my knees, forcing them apart. I swallowed, feeling a weight on my chest. The air turned thick and hungry, ready to suck the life from me, ready to take what she willed. God help me, I wanted to give it. Something sharp slid down my chest, tracing the line around my nipple. My heart pummeled the inside of my chest, racing like a frightened rabbit. I moaned, but kept my eyes closed. I'd seen her angry before and that was one sight I never wanted to see again.

"Tell me what you've learned."

My lips quivered and I searched for the words I thought she'd want to hear. "Not to hurt women, not to use them."

"What else?"

I tried to swallow the ache in the back of my throat, still it stuck there. "I don't understand. Please, I need...."

The sharp tip dug into my skin. My eyes flew open and I cried out. There was no knife, and yet my blood trickled in a blistered line down my chest. I searched for her and found nothing. "I don't understand what you want from me."

"I want you to suffer, as the ones you hurt suffered. I want you to truly understand the opportunity I'm giving you."

My cock stood straight, engorged from nothing more than her scent. Fire lashed the tip. The feel of her soft flesh around me was all I could think about. Her scent grew thicker. The scent that invades my fitful sleep, keeping me half-hard and on the edge. Leaving me needing. She knew I needed her. She made it so and yet, she only gave herself to me on her whim. I moaned and arched my back. "Please."

"You break too easy. You're weak, slave." The shadow moved, a flash of fire flickered in her wild eyes. One minute I was alone and the next she stood above me, naked, her dark skin glistening. How could I have seen her as weak, something to be possessed? This woman was untamed and would always be so. She lowered her body, spreading her knees wide as she squatted. My cock arched to reach her. She hovered, thigh muscles tensed, making me wait. I breathed in, drawing the fabric close to my eyes, to see better through the weave. I lived for this moment, when she allowed me inside her. Slowly, so fucking slowly, she lowered her body. I could barely breathe while I watched her envelop me. Her silky wetness eases my path and yet, she tightened, forcing me out. I moaned and thrust, splitting her flesh with mine. My pulse thundered inside my ears as she moved, undulating her hips back and forth, urging me deeper.

"Lilith speaks to me. She says you're weak. Unworthy. This will be the last time, Derek. When you wake you'll feel different, you'll see with your eyes open for the first time and you'll be alone."

"No." My heart broke as the heat around my cock grew warmer. Her thrusting hips created a friction I couldn't sustain. "Please, not yet. I'll be better. I'll fight harder."

Her laugher echoed in my ears and in my mind. "You couldn't fight me, even if you wanted."

My body betrayed me, pulsing with a need I had to obey. I pumped my hips, driving into her. The smacking sound of flesh on flesh grew louder and I cried out, emptying inside her. She took it all, every shudder and drop as I spasmed and fell silent. She stood slowly, her slit dripping, releasing me from her body. The shadows around me moved in.

No, not yet... I'm not ready. I grew sleepy. My eyes strained until they burned and the room blurred. I needed her. I needed more.

"Please...." I whispered. "I'll do more... I'll suffer."

I fought to keep my eyes open, desperate to see her one last time and... failed.

Chapter One

Three months earlier

People look like ants from this height. I pressed against the glass of my office window, looking down on the world. This was why I loved this building, so I could look down on everyone. The phone buzzed behind me. My secretary's voice ruptured the blissful silence.

"Mr. Winton, your four o'clock appointment is here."

I turned toward my desk and hit the speaker button. "Thanks Rachel, you can show them in." I sat down in my chair and reached for the file on my desk before the door opened.

Mortimer Savage stumbled in, nodding his balding head as he eyed Rachel's open collar and tight tits. "Thank you. Thank you, very much."

I smiled and rose from my seat, catching sight of the woman who followed. My smile faded. I reached out, ready to shake his hand. "Mort, I didn't realize you were bringing company."

The pudgy man turned toward me, clasping my hand in his sweaty palm and pumped.

"Yes, sorry Derek. I had to take my receptionist to the previous meeting and I wouldn't have made it back in time if I'd dropped her back at the office."

I sat back down and reached for the handkerchief in my drawer, looking over the dark woman at his side who stared into her lap like a meek little lamb. She was lovely, a perfect figure with jutting breasts and wide hips, and a face that was pleasant to look at, too. She looked exotic, maybe Papua New Guinea? Where the hell did old Mort find her?

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

She glanced up, meeting my gaze. "Sarah Caldwell."

"Sarah Caldwell." Her name rolled off my tongue like a French dessert. She didn't seem to like the scrutiny and looked away. Something inside me noticed. My pulse sped with excitement.

"Let's get started shall we?" Mort interrupted. I rewarded him with a glare.

"Sure." I shifted in my seat, casting the handkerchief back into the drawer. "Let's see the proposal."

Mortimer reached for his briefcase and pulled out a thick yellow folder. The edges were creased and dirty. This man had no concept of the word perfect, except for advertising. In the marketing world, he was a fucking genius. He moved to open the binding and stumbled. The pages scattered across my floor like pale autumn leaves. Fucking stupid idiot.

"I'm s... so sorry, Derek," the idiot stammered. I shoved my chair back as I stood, rounding the desk in two strides.

"It's fine, Mr. Savage." Sarah answered. I caught a soft accent and watched as she dropped to the floor. My anger took a backseat while she crawled on all fours collecting the scattered paper at my feet.

Her skirt pulled tight as she moved. My gaze traced the smooth contours which triggered images of me spreading her ass. I imagined my cock plunging deep. An icy breath blew against the back of my neck. I shivered.

"Right. Well, when you're ready, Mort." I growled and took one last look before retreating to my chair.

The old bastard looked panicked as he fumbled with the papers. Was he not fucking ready? Hell, he was always panicked. He was the best there was in the advertising business. No one compared to him. He was also lazy and forgetful, and those things I couldn't stand. Hurry the fuck up.

He fussed and shuffled pages while I reached across my desk for the carafe and poured myself some water.

Mort gaze followed my hands and he licked his lips. Abandoning the collection of pages to his assistant, he asked, "May I trouble you for a glass of that, Derek?"

I nodded. "Sure, help yourself."

Old Mort fumbled with the glasses. They clinked, filling the silence. To my annoyance, water splashed the silver tray.

I leaned back and nursed the tumbler, sipping icy water while watching the old man tremble.

Sarah rose from the floor to stand in front of me. A flash of anger brightened her big brown eyes to amber and then their color softened. "Here, let me get the water for you Mr. Savage, while you begin."

"Thank you, dear."

The old man's voice settled into a steady grind. I listened to bits and pieces. This whole fucking meeting was a charade anyway. Mort had the job the moment he took on the proposal, but I was never one to make things easy on anyone.

Charts and graphs, landing pages and marketing targets were displayed for me, one after another. I say jump and the floor shudders—it's that simple—for me anyway.

I am the go-between in the marketing world, matching clients with advertising packages in the high-end spectrum. The top dog that demands top dollar and I get it—every fucking time. Just like now.

"That's fine Mort, but we have a problem. The client has negotiated deals with Darwin and Sphere for the same thing you've just shown me, so they're not going to pay what you seem to think you're worth.

His brow arched and a bead of sweat appeared on his forehead. "So, how much are they willing to pay?"

I kept my voice steady and caught every flinch in his beady little eyes. "Five hundred."

"So my cut would be—"

"One fifty."

The color drained from Mort's face, leaving his skin pasty. He stared down at the pages in front of him. "I'll barely make anything on that. My time alone would be—"

"And you'll make exactly nothing if he goes to Sphere. You know better than I do, once we lose a client to them, we can kiss goodbye any chance of getting them back. They'll be wrapped up so tight in contracts and agreements they won't resurface until the next big boom... which will be... never."

"One fifty." The old bastard muttered. I could see the little cogs working frantically inside his head.

"Look, I feel bad for you, Mort. But my hands are tied on this one."

"Liar."

The word came out of nowhere.

I jerked my head toward Sarah. Rage sparkled in her eyes. She was a fighter, this one. A fighter who punched above her damn weight. I felt the front of my trousers tighten.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"I said, fire me." Her voice was soft but her gaze sliced me to the core. "I'm an expense Mr. Savage doesn't need."

I leaned forward, meeting the fire in her gaze with my own. "And what if I snatch you away from old Mort here? What if you crawled around on the ground at my feet?"

The silence was deadly as she held my stare. "That won't ever happen."

Defiant little bitch.

Mort shook his head. "No, no Sarah, dear. I couldn't possibly do without you. It's all right, we'll make do. I accept the new terms, Derek. Let me know when I can start."

I leaned back in my chair and smiled. "I'll get back to you as soon as I know."

"Sure, thank you." The old man turned to Sarah. "Let's get you back to the office."

Sarah shuffled his pages back into the folder and rose from the chair. I watched every movement she made as though I was dry as the desert and she was my last sip of water. I stayed seated as they left, no goodbyes or thank yous. I smiled and calculated the added profit I just made.

There was no other negotiation, apart from the three hundred and fifty I just made for brokering the deal. A trip to Hawaii seemed like the perfect reward. I could relax, grab some golf and lose myself in some local pussy.

I sighed and sank back into my chair, my thoughts turned to Sarah Caldwell. There was a piece of pussy I wouldn't mind diving into. I doubted I'd want to come up for air.

She'd fight too, all teeth and nails. She'd kick and buck and scream. Fuck I love when they scream.

"Mr. Winton." The phone buzzed, tearing me out of the moment.

I snatched the handset and barked. "Yes."

There was a moment silence before Rachel continued. "I just wanted to check there wasn't anything else you needed before I left?"

Fuck, was it that time already? "No, thank you, Rachel. I'll see you on Monday."

"See you Monday, Mr. Winton. Have a lovely weekend."

I hung up and waited for the reception area to clear. I don't like small talk. I don't like the receptionists thinking they're entitled to speak to me. I placed the glass on my desk and reached for the file, locking it away in the safe under the desk before I rose. Advertising was a dangerous fucking business.

Outside, the night was deepening, purples and pinks bruised the sky like a rough lover. God, how I love those colors.

I reached for my jacket and unbuttoned my collar. I had a date with Naomi tonight, a date with her lips around my cock. She was beautiful. Tall, thin, model looks and a sparrow's brain.

At last, the foyer was quiet, just how I liked it. I could hear a vacuum start down the hall as I closed the door to my office and headed for the lift. A soft ping sounded and cool air blew against my face as the stainless doors slid open. Dawson Corporation was at the helm of the marketing world, forging through the tough economic times and the company's stellar rise to the top was all because of me.

I started at this company ten years ago. I'd been ferocious, chasing the biggest accounts I could find, not caring who stood in my way. Today, clients chase me, not the other way around.

The lift slowed and stopped at the garage and I strode toward the black beast. The Lamborghini was my pride and joy and I never miss an opportunity to show her off. Doors slid seamlessly open and the engine growled, before I reversed and sped out of the garage. I slowed at the gate and presented my badge, watching the boom lift out of my way.

The night was sultry, perfect weather for some fun. I headed out of the inner city, working my way toward the beach and home. The machine took the corners like a dream. I sped through the long stretches until I caught the glint of dark waves between the mammoth houses and slowed.

The white mansion blended with the sand, a tropical palette of expense and comfort. I hit the remote and the garage door retreated. Once inside, I hit the button again. The door closed behind me as I climbed the stairs.

"Music. Play." The sound of Vivaldi filled the air. I slid a finger over the security console to disarm the system, and then struck the button to open the drapes. Moonlight slivered the tops of the waves, beckoning me outside. I crossed to open the sliding doors. The balcony overlooks the pool and the sauna, but the view of the sandy shores took my breath. I never get sick of this place.

I turned back and poured a scotch. The single malt stoked the fire in my belly as I strode through my bedroom, eyeing the rows of dumbbells on the wall before I headed for the bathroom. I lathered my face and shaved while I thought of today. Rather than my success at cutting Mort out of most of his fee, it was Sarah Caldwell who filled my mind. What a gorgeous creature she is.

I was captured by the spark in her eyes and her curves. A need came alive, a hunger no food could ease. To own something like that, to use something like that.... I looked down at my cock and felt it stir. Jesus, just thinking about her was making me hard.

I wiped my face and stepped into the shower. The icy water pounded my muscles. My balls shriveled under the spray and my cock grew soft. There'd be plenty of time to think about her later. Now, I had a date with Naomi. I lathered, rinsed, and then stepped out and made my way into the wardrobe, selecting a soft blue T-shirt and jeans.

"Derek baby, you home?"

My stomach dropped at the sound of her voice. I picked up my empty glass and walked out into the kitchen. "I'm here."

Naomi crossed the floor in two bounds and launched herself at me. I caught her and was rewarded with a tongue down my throat and her hands under my shirt. She attacked me ferociously with lips and hands, grinding her body against mine. She moaned and pulled away to stare into my eyes.

"I've missed you, baby."

I forced a smile and lowered her to the ground. "It seems that way, doesn't it?"

She fluttered her eyes and pursed her lips. The horny girlfriend act was getting old. That's all it was, an act. She was getting more dick than a street-corner whore. My private investigator was paid to check out all of my girlfriends and I paid her a healthy bonus to keep those records up to date. Naomi here was leading me on, me and two other rich bastards. She was no different than any other bitch in this town... she was too much like me.

I eyed the bags of groceries on the counter and my stomach growled. "What's for tea?"

"I have the thickest, juiciest steaks from BB's and a tossed salad."

"Sounds great, I'm starving." I headed for the bar and grabbed the opened scotch.

"And for desert, you get to have me."

"Delicious." I caught her smile widen and my gut hardened. "I can't wait."

Naomi pranced into the kitchen and pulled out packages, stowing some away in the refrigerator while I grabbed my glass and headed for the stairs. "I'll get a fire going. It's a beautiful night to sit outside."

I didn't wait for her to answer. I headed down the stairs and turned right, making my way to the front gardens. The sound of the waves filtered through the thick rows of palm trees.

I bent to a concrete box and unlatched the steel lid, pulling out hardwood logs. A soft breeze caressed my arms and I found myself wondering about Sarah's hands. What would they feel like on my skin? I was already intrigued by the contrast in our skin. How would my cock look sliding inside her? I imagined this and carted the wood over to the sunken fire pit.

Naomi's voice carried as I lit the burners and watched the fire come alive. She sang as she cooked, another trait that irritated me. I sat on one side of the fire pit, watching the flames grow while I thought about tonight.

"Dinner will be ready in a minute, my gorgeous hunk of a man."

I flinched and waited, silently urging the night to move faster—at least the sex will be good. Naomi carried down a tray laden with plates and bowls. I watched her across the fire as she fussed around the table, laying out cutlery and an expensive bottle of wine. Are we celebrating something?

The dinner had been her idea, something different, she told me, something intimate. My gut warned me that she expected the night to go one way, while I expected another. We'd been seeing each other for six months. Maybe she thought this was some kind of milestone.

She spun to me and indicated the seat at the head of the table. "Dinner is served, master."

I stiffened. Master. That word sparked desire in my belly. We'd played the dominant game a few times in the bedroom. I liked it. She knew I liked it and she knew I wanted more.

"Are we celebrating something?" I walked around the fire to the table.

"Maybe."

Her coy smile gave nothing away. She moved to pull out the chair for me and slowly slid it back as I sat down.

The thick steak took up half my plate. The juices glistened in the firelight. "It looks delicious."

Naomi took a seat next to me and piled the salad on top. I grabbed my cutlery, stabbed and sliced, enjoying the meal as Naomi picked and pushed around the food on her plate. The woman ate like a sparrow, taking tiny morsels here and there as I devoured what was on my plate in silence.

I wiped my mouth on the napkin and threw it on top of my plate. "Okay, now, what's with all of this?"

She grew silent and I waited.

"Well. I was thinking that maybe we should look at taking the next step in our relationship."

My stomach dropped like a weight. "Go on."

"This is such a big house to be living on your own. I thought that maybe we could try living together?"

The thought of seeing Naomi every day scared me like a dose of the clap. I suppressed a shiver while she stared at me all doe-eyed and innocent. If I said no, there'd be no sex. If I said yes, she'd haul her shit in here within the fucking hour and then I'd never get rid of her.

I pushed out my chair and rose. "How about we discuss this over desert?"

Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her mouth. "Really? I... I thought for sure I'd have to beg."

"And that, my beautiful, fucking whore, is precisely what you need to do."

I waited for the penny to drop. It took longer than usual. Her smile widened and she wiped at her mouth before pushing her chair back and rising.

"Clear the table, and then meet me in the bedroom."

I left her and walked to the bedroom while I played out the next two hours in my head. The bitch thought this was going to be easy.

I couldn't wait to show her wrong.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Trinity

Copyright 2014 by Deena Remiel

Kindle Edition

Cover art by Scott Carpenter

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Firewalker Press

Trinity

A Brethren Novel

By

Deena Remiel

~DEDICATION~

To my husband and children, who are my real-life angels.

Acknowledgements

It takes a village to raise a novel, and my village is a mighty force. From the inception of The Brethren Series, I've had support from family, friends, and people who quickly became friends. My family was the first to hear about my endeavor to become an author. It happened soon after moving to Arizona. They continue to smile, give me space and time, and cheer me on every day as I share my excitement at each plateau I reach.

My beta readers, those friends and family who read the rough, rough drafts are a source of motivation and determination to write the best damn novels possible. Auntie A, Mary K, Elizabeth, Liza, Penny, Melissa, Caren, I thank you for the time you spend reading and rereading chapter upon chapter, and their many incarnations.

The Desert Rose Chapter of RWA brought me out of my cave and into the real world of author sisterhood and publishing. I thank my sisters, Amber Scott, Erin Kellison, and Kris Tualla, for their tireless tutelage, patience, and laughter. My critique partners for Trinity, Kathy and Varina, were instrumental in teaching me the nuances of revision when I first started out, and I couldn't thank them more. Judy and Ruth, I thank you for being my very first fans, as well as colleagues. My facebook friends and fans are another great source of support. I have never had a lovelier group of friends than I do now. They stand strong and decimate my self-doubt.

Nicole Hicks, my editor through it all, thank you for caring so much for this, our first baby, and giving it a nickname. I enjoy every time we join forces.

And now, without further ado, I present Book One of the Brethren Series, Trinity. Keep on reading after "the end" because I've included the first chapters of Book Two, Relic, and Book Three, Elixxir, just for you!

~ Deena
Prologue

Ever since the dawn of man, a war has waged between Good and Evil. Good has tried to claim supreme eternal victory, but like the ebb and flow of the tides, Evil rises up periodically trying to usurp Good's reign over the mortal world. Evil has its minions, immortal and mortal alike. Good has the Brethren, angels who were hired by an enigmatic leader to manifest on Earth, to fight against Evil, and protect and heal the human race. Time and again, the two sides have clashed over the centuries, both suffering great losses, yet Good has always come away triumphant and maintained its sovereignty.

It was during a time of economic and political turmoil that Satan had begun quietly amassing his minions once again. Letting the good and the righteous settle into a comfortable existence, unaware of how tenuous their lives really were.

But not everyone was oblivious. Doomsayers flooded the streets in the larger cities; cults arose in smaller towns promising salvation. And in one of those small towns, a child was born to a mother. Not just any child and her mother, but both born to an ancient, powerful lineage. Fated to fulfill prophecy, both were a part of the key to securing a lasting victory against Evil.

And neither of them knew it.

Chapter One

_I'm dead._ Emma yawned and rubbed at her dry, bloodshot eyes. _I must be dead. Or maybe I've become one of the living dead._ How else could she explain her zombie-like manner as she walked through her house at nine o'clock in the evening, locking windows and doors, shutting off lights, and nearly passing out at the foot of her bed? At the very least, she was one extremely sleep-deprived single mom who hadn't become so due to an overactive sex life, that's for sure. Oh, she had a nightly ritual, all right, one that starved her body of the healing affects a full night's sleep could offer. And she was certain as she plunged into a deep, dreamless sleep that the ritual would likely continue this very evening.

A blood-curdling scream shattered the peaceful silence of the wee hours. She roused, instantly alert. Her soul, rocked by the echoing scream, seized up like a blown car engine.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Emma swore under her breath. She kicked aside the inconsiderate Malibu Barbie. "Hannah, I'm coming! Mama's coming!"

Her stomach roiled at the terror and desperation in her daughter's panic-stricken voice echoing through the hallway.

"I won't go! I won't go! No! I'll never let you take me! I won't do it! You can't make me do it! Mama! Help me! Mama!"

_Well hell, this is something new._ Usually, when Hannah was having one of her nightmares, she shrieked until Emma talked her out of it and put her back to sleep. Now she's talking in her nightmare, too? Completely at a loss, she raked her hands through her hair as she rushed to her daughter, writhing on the bed.

"Hannah, I'm here. You're okay. Mama's here. Wake up, honey. Sweetie? Mama's here." She repeated these phrases like a mantra, trying to keep her voice as calm and soothing as possible. But who was she kidding? This newly added dimension to these nightmares was sending her over the deep end herself. She hoped her little one couldn't sense it.

"Mama! He's got me! Save me, Mama!" Hannah pleaded in a frenzy of emotion. It looked as though something tugged on her arms and she tried to pull them back.

And her eyes were open.

Crap! She's never had her eyes open before, either. What the hell is going on?

She sat next to her jerking body and waved a hand in front of her face. Hannah gazed at and then past her, as though there really was someone else in the room—someone seated right next to her. _Crap, crap, crap!_ As she turned to peer beside her, she saw a hint of a shadow, but then figured it to be her own. _Get a_ _hold of yourself_.

"Honey, look at me. It was only a dream. You're okay. You're safe."

Hannah shifted her eyes back to her, and in a foreboding, chilling tone said, "I'll never be safe, Mama. Not anymore." And with that, her little angel flopped back onto her pillow and was instantly asleep.

_What the hell just happened here?_ She'd acted as though possessed. Emma stood at the bedside, paralyzed by the utter helplessness and despair that invaded her soul. Completely unnerved and sick to her stomach, she dropped to the floor like a rag doll and sobbed until she was spent.

What had happened to her baby girl? Almost six months ago, she had been a carefree, charismatic girl of five. And, for a little girl whose birthday was a week away, anyone would expect her to be bouncing out of her skin with excitement.

Now, to look at her these days, she was anxious, withdrawn, and simply drained. Doctors hadn't been any help so far.

_Change her routine._ Okay.

_Don't let her watch scary shows._ Fine.

_Let's try medication._ Well, all right.

All of their suggestions proved fruitless, and left her completely alone with more questions than answers. What was she going to do now? There was no chance in hell that she would tell the doctors about this latest episode. They'd want to put her baby in a psychiatric facility, and she drew the line at that. There had to be another way to stop this nightly assault. But how?

Emma gathered the energy to drag herself onto Hannah's bed. She snuggled close to her baby girl's fragile body, and sank into the nest of Care Bear blankets. As she dropped off to sleep, she prayed, "Please, for heaven's sake, someone help my baby. End this madness."

Chapter Two

"Well, Agremon? Have you brought me the child?"

"Mr. Namirha, sir, I'd like to say yes, but I can't. You know I've been trying for so long now, My Lord, and tonight I got the closest yet to grabbing her, but...."

Namirha scowled and tossed the newspaper he'd been reading to the floor. "Agremon, remind me. Why do I keep you alive? Why do I keep your worthless, sniveling ass around here if I never see results from your supposed gift? Hmm?"

"Well, sir, you must know my gift for terror is truly great and none can match it. Why, I've kept your followers in line for years now." He puffed out his chest like a preening gorilla. "But I think it's the girl's mother that's causing the problem here. My Lord, there is something about her that's shielding her daughter from me and breaking the connection between us."

"Is that so?"

"I can't put my finger on it, but I know that every time I get to the point where I'm about to take her, the mother comes in and is able to push me away. I can't figure how or why. But I'll get to the bottom of it and make sure it doesn't happen again!"

Agremon stood a good distance away from his fearsome boss, not quite trusting the look in his Lord and Master's eyes. He'd worked for him successfully for centuries, but at the moment, his repeated failures left him open to Namirha's wrath. Knowing what the Dark One was capable of definitely raised the alarm.

"Excuses, excuses!" Namirha bellowed. "I'm done with excuses. Her birthday is a week away for Hell's sake! I need her, and I need her now. You get that girl and bring her to me, or I'll have your body roasting on a spit while your head watches from a poleax! Now leave and find a way to get that girl here. Your life depends on it!"

_As does yours_ , Agremon snickered inwardly.

"Yes, my Lord. I'll get her. I promise. Don't worry. All will be as you wish, My Lord, or my name isn't Agremon the Terrible." He bowed and made a quick exit from the throne room.

Namirha's patience was running out with him. The look of admiration he'd once enjoyed from his Lord had withered to one of downright disappointment. The clock was ticking. If he didn't produce the child soon, he was a total goner. He could kill that mother! If she would have stayed out of the damned room he could have taken the child a while ago. But the kid's shrieking always brought her! What could he do?

Maybe if he visited the mother first he could do some damage, and then he could get the girl while the mother cowered in her own nightmares.

_Yes! That's it! Genius! Why didn't I think of that before?_ Tomorrow would be a most auspicious evening. He'd put his pan into action, and this time he'd be damned if he failed.

Chapter Three

"Mama, wake up, we have to get ready for school. Come on, Mama, wake up. Your alarm is going off and I don't know how to stop it."

"Mmmm...okay, honey, okay. I'm up." Bleary-eyed and stiff, Emma slowly moved each limb, testing to see that they were still in working order. "Oh, my word!" she groaned as she tried to sit up, her back screaming with resistance.

_Is it seven o'clock already?_ She slunk her way back to her own bedroom and turned off the offending alarm that pounded nails straight through her skull with every beep. Her personal alarm clock followed timidly behind.

"Are you tired, Mama?" Hannah asked. She nodded grimly and patted her back. "I'm sorry I woke you up again."

"Don't be sorry, sugar. I know you can't help these nightmares from coming any more than I can. I just wish we could get a break from them every now and again." She sighed guiltily and caressed Hannah's face.

"But it wasn't a dream this time, Mama! It wasn't! You saved me. You really did. If you hadn't come, that awful, scary monster would have taken me to Him forever."

Emma was trying her best to will away any outward signs of frustration and knew it wasn't working. She felt like the absolute worst mother in the world! "Honey, I know it felt real to you, but trust me. It was only a nightmare. Tell me something, though. What did you mean when you said the scary monster was going to take you to Him? Who's Him?"

"The scary monster who is always in my dream, his name is Agremon. He keeps trying to take me to a man named Mr. Namirha. He wants me to become his daughter. But I'm already yours, Mama. I don't want to be his. That's kidnapping or stealing. Isn't it? And last night, Agremon was really angry with me for fighting him. He grabbed me and was pulling me from my bed, but then you came in and pushed him away. You saved me, Mama!" Hannah cried out and grabbed her so fiercely she thought she'd cracked a couple of ribs.

"Whoa! Anytime, Angel. You know I wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt you or take you away from me." Despite the aching ribs, Emma hugged her tighter, not quite sure at the moment if it was to comfort the grateful child or herself, and then kneeled down to speak to her face to face. "You know, sometimes our dreams can feel so real to us. Sometimes we can convince ourselves that what happened in them really happened. It takes a great mind with a great imagination to think so. You, my dear, have a great imagination. And now that you've shared this dream, you don't have to think about it anymore. You can take a deep breath, knowing it wasn't real, and let it go." She stroked her daughter's long, jet-black hair and kissed her pixie nose. "So, why don't we start getting ready for school now, okay? We'll have a good hearty breakfast, and I'll tell jokes on the way to school. How does that sound?"

"Well, okay, I guess. Do you think I could sleep with you tonight, though?" Hannah asked tentatively. Emma's sleep-deprived brain was no match for the doe eyes peering up at her, nor a trembling mouth.

"Sure, Hannah," she caved. Maybe she would get a better night's sleep if she didn't have to actually get out of bed and run down the hall to deal with the nightmares. And maybe she wouldn't feel like the worst mother in the world for one night.

***

As Emma drove her ancient pickup truck down the school's dirt road, she paid little attention to the striking, craggy mountains rising up to kiss the sky. She didn't feel the hot breeze wafting through the opened windows, causing sweat to gather around her neck and trickle down between her breasts. No, what she felt was relief washing over her.

She had jokingly called Prophet's Point Elementary School her second home for six years now, but it had only felt like one since Michael D'Angelo, the school's principal, came on board. He was a breath of fresh air for the school and had become a good friend. He'd unintentionally made it a place one could leave worries at the door, like she needed to today. Once there, she thought maybe Hannah would forget about last night and concentrate on her friends and schoolwork. The jokes she told on the way to school hadn't gone over so well. Hannah had offered her usual polite smile, but that's as far as it went. Was last night's nightmare going to affect her daughter's life during school hours, too? How was she to explain it away? _Damn it all if today wasn't going to be a good day for her!_

Living in such a small town made it difficult for anyone to keep secrets. The two of them had kept the nightmare issue a private matter, knowing it would be completely humiliating if any of her friends found out about it. She knew they would be relentless with their questions and their teasing, and she needed an escape. School was that escape.

Emma, on the other hand, was at her wit's end. She needed to confide in someone or she would have a nervous breakdown herself. Only thing was, she didn't know who. Admittedly, she had major trust issues. Once burned, twice shy, as the saying went. But closing herself off to any kind of relationship, be it friend or lover, left her severely lacking in the confidant department. She had vowed never again to desire the pajama party friendships she used to have, or trust her heart to a man, but she reluctantly acknowledged that without opening herself up a little bit right now, she would implode.

The truck now sat under a shade tree, and the two of them held hands while walking into the school building.

"Okay, Angel. I love you. Have a super day learning and playing with your friends. If you need me, you know you can tell Mrs. McNamara, and she'll let you come to my classroom. But, I think you're going to have a really good day. Right?"

"I'll try, Mama. Really, I will. I won't even come to your classroom today," Hannah promised with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, turned around every few steps and waved goodbye. Emma waved back with a smile that she hoped didn't appear as forced as she knew it was. As the classroom door closed, her smile melted away. How could such a tiny girl battle such a big problem...and win?

She walked down the hall a bit further to her own classroom. Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. How was she supposed to focus on today's computer lessons when all she could think about was her little, broken angel?

"Hey, Emma. I believe you're either sleepwalking or tired from a hot night of steamy sex with a new boyfriend." joked Maddie as she walked up to her.

"Hey, Ms. Stewart." She waved to her colleague. "Door Number One, please. Late night, couldn't sleep, so I read 'til God-knows-when." The lie was as good as it was going to get with fatigue keeping her at her breaking point. Since the divorce, lying had become an automatic reflex. She thought briefly about feeling guilty, but decided she was too exhausted to care.

"So, no _real_ sex for the Mama. Well then, I sure hope the novel was loaded with hot alpha males and lurid sex to make it worth your while."

"For heaven's sake, girl! Sometimes you can be so brazen!" Emma chided, then giggled. Whether she knew it or not, Maddie always had a way of putting a smile on her face, and she sent a silent blessing while she turned and opened her classroom door. "See you at lunch, my friend."

"Later, gator! Hey, one more day until summer vacation! Wahoo! Then you can nab a hot alpha male of your own when we I take you dancing!" Maddie shouted as she flitted down the hall to her classroom.

Emma shook her head and sighed. As long as she'd lived here, there had never been the hint of a man around her to stoke the flames of gossip. That's the way she liked it. Everyone knowing your business...she was still getting used to that. Plus, the small town limited one's options where love was concerned. Now Maddie, she hooked a keeper before she moved to Prophet's Point. But Emma had arrived with a baby in her arms and a tan line where a wedding ring used to be. _Don't go there. Not today._

She unlocked her door and began her daily routine of turning on the Computer Lab's computers and printers, checking the servers, and looking over her lesson plans for the day. Not much of a plan besides having the kids clear out the files and prep for summer.

Emma noticed her computer booting up slower than usual. She looked around the room at the other computers and found they were taking longer as well. Suddenly, a grotesque image of a creature's face appeared on all of the screens, with bubbling skin all mottled red and black, eyes that glowed with fire, needle-like shards of glass for teeth, and a mouth dripping with blood. She jumped back and cracked her elbows against her filing cabinet.

"Ow! Oh, my freakin' God!"

It was speaking, and oddly enough, she could understand it. She inched her way back to the computer, morbid curiosity getting the better of her, to get a better listen.

"Hello, Emma. Why, you get more beautiful the more tired you are. I love the way the dark circles play on your face. I'm coming for you, lovey. I'll see you in your dreams tonight, my precious."

Her eyes widened, and she grabbed the back of her chair for purchase.

"You look puzzled, frightened even. Don't you know who I am? Why, I'm Agremon, my precious, Hannah's friend, and now the suitor of your dreams. Until tonight."

The computer screens went black, and so did the lights, on Emma. 
Chapter Four

Blackness slowly faded into light. Why was she lying down? She blinked her eyes a few times and realized she was on the floor of her classroom. There was someone with her, by her side, urging her to wake up.

"Come on, Emma, wake up. Wake up, please." Michael D'Angelo was gently whisking her waist-length, ebony curtain of hair away from her face when she slowly stirred. "There you go. That's it. Wake up now. Emma, do you know who I am?"

"Yes, I know who you are. You're my principal. Oh God! Why am I on the floor? Did I faint or something?" She struggled to sit up, but he put a firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder that held her in place.

"It seems like it. Now don't get up yet. Just relax while I get you some water." He hopped up, took a bottle of water from her mini-fridge and returned to hand it to her. "Now sit up slowly." She did. "That's it. Lean up against your desk here. Take a sip, not too much."

Emma felt embarrassed as all hell, but obliged the man standing above her who looked like he'd lost ten years off his life. And then she remembered. Tremors took hold as the gruesome memories flooded back to her, and she dropped the bottle.

He immediately knelt down next to her and enclosed her hands in his. "Whoa, whoa there, Em. You're okay now. What's happened here?"

"I-I-I think someone's gotten to the computers to play a terrible trick on me, or my imagination's getting the better of me. I'm not sure which. Would-would you please check the computers and tell me what you see, Michael?"

She watched intently as he glanced around. "Well, it looks like the computers are all booted up, ready for your first class. What did you think I'd see?"

"You know what? It was nothing. A silly prank, really, I'm sure of it. Class is going to start soon, and I need to be ready for the kids. So, if you'll help me up, I'll get on with my day, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything about this to anyone. It's rather embarrassing, you know? Me fainting, and you, well...you know the rest." _Jesus!_ She was so undone she was rambling on and on, making a bigger ass out of herself than she already felt.

"You know, I don't like this one bit. The school has an alarm system. It never went off between yesterday and today, and you're saying someone tampered with your computers enough to make you faint. I'm going to have someone from the district office come over and check things out. For now, the computers are off limits."

"Now wait a minute. You're overreacting. Let me check things out on my own first before you call in the technology cavalry. Besides, what the heck do you expect me to do if you close this room down? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs all day?" There was no way Emma would have her routine changed in any way. She couldn't handle it. This was all she could cling to for sanity's sake.

"Okay. Then at least cancel your first couple of periods today so you can look things over. I don't want any surprises when it comes to the kids' safety." With his hands firmly supporting her elbows, Michael helped her to her feet and watched as she tried to hide the extreme effort it took to make herself appear reasonably stable.

"I agree, and thanks for everything. Uh, hello?" She waved a hand in front of his face, looking for some kind of response. _Why is he staring at me with that goofy look on his face?_ "Are you in there?"

"What? Oh," his voice cracked, "you're welcome. Listen, how about I come by after school and you can give me an update on this computer thing, issue, you got going on here? I won't be free until then, what with all the closeout procedures and final meetings I've got scheduled. You can put Hannah in the After School program, no charge."

"Sounds like a plan. See you later, then." And with that, Emma walked her fearless leader to the door. He narrowed his eyes and gave her one lingering glance that she met boldly with a show of confidence she didn't nearly possess, and closed the door. When her heart stopped pounding and her knees stopped feeling like jelly, she planned on finding out exactly what was going on around here.

But first, she gave herself permission to freak out.

Wasn't Agremon the name of the monster Hannah had spoken about from her nightmares? If it was one and the same, no wonder she had been having such a horrible time of it lately. That creature, that _thing_ was downright horrifying. And why did he appear on the school's computers? How could something from her imagination show up like this and be so threatening to Emma as well? It didn't seem possible.

A thorough scan of the computers showed nothing irregular at all. No one had tampered or hacked into the system. Maybe it was her imagination working on overdrive, since last night's episode was so different from all the others.

The bell rang, ushering in a swarm of students to the building. Their buzzing voices, like jackhammers, rattled her head. She decided to take her first two periods off, like Michael had wanted her to do in the first place. The kids' homeroom teachers wouldn't mind keeping them. They could use the extra help preparing the classrooms for the summer. She took a couple of aspirin and tried to calm herself down. Looking out the window, she soaked up the shining sun. It was a beautiful day. Why let a little techno-horror get in the way, right?

No further incidents occurred except, of course, for the inevitable visit she got from Hannah an hour before the ending bell. And what was more, she had come bearing pictures she'd drawn today during her art rotation; disturbing pictures of demons and devils crudely drawn, but clearly identifiable. Emma knew it was time to share this whole ordeal with someone, and that someone, she felt was definitely Michael D'Angelo. She couldn't put her finger on the why of it, but after this morning, she felt a curious and unexpected magnetic pull towards him _. Imagine, opening up to a man again. After all these years._ She shook her head, nonplussed. Could she truly trust him enough to share such a private and painful piece of herself? And would he be able to do anything to help?

Prayers did get answered, didn't they?
Chapter Five

It wasn't until an hour after school let out that her principal showed up at Emma's door. But that was okay with her. She'd needed that time to build up her courage. Luckily, Hannah went without a fuss over to the Aftercare Program. With that concern out of the way, she now prayed Michael wouldn't think she was nuts and reconsider continuing her contract for next year. He wouldn't let this interfere, would he? She'd known him for six years now. They had a great professional relationship. He'd always been kind to anyone having a problem and was always willing to help in any way he could. But this, this wasn't your average "run of the mill, hey, can-you-help-change-a-flat-tire problem."

She was taking a huge risk now. This was definitely an issue that crossed over the line from professional to personal. Emma shook her head and rested her forehead on her desk, confidence deflated. What exactly did she expect him to do about her beleaguered daughter's nightmares that anyone else hadn't already tried? He could listen, she reminded herself. Just listen. Wasn't that what she needed right now? Someone to listen to her fears and frustrations about her daughter's well-being.

As if on cue, she heard a light rap on her door, and in he walked. Regret and concern furrowed his brow.

"I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to get to you. We had some bus issues that needed immediate attention. So, what'd you find out about your computers?"

He leaned casually against her filing cabinet looking, well, absolutely scrumptious, like a model for Ralph Lauren. He was a giant, she'd always thought, at six-foot-four or five. He dwarfed her five-foot-two petite frame. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist made him appear like a Greek god. With the relaxed, bohemian nature Prophet's Point was known for, he tended to wear jeans that always hugged perfectly in all the right places and polo shirts that accentuated the fact that he must work out on his time off. With a touch of salt sprinkled through his shaggy, black hair, it begged to have hands— her hands—run through it. And his face, well, she mused, it could have rivaled Michelangelo's David.

She studied his strong jaw line and high cheekbones, his straight nose and perfectly bowed lips. Six years had done very nice things to Mr. D'Angelo. If only she had the courage to show him she might be interested in him beyond friendship. If only she didn't carry this burden right now. What? What was she thinking? Ridiculous! Suddenly, she was aware that he had finished speaking and he'd caught her gazing at him. She blushed from head to toe. His drop-dead smile had her reddening even more.

"Oh, um, I haven't found out much, I'm afraid. But that's actually good news. It means that nobody's tampered with anything here. The bad news is I'm going crazy," Emma quipped, knowing how true those words had become. Her nerves were getting the best of her.

"Hey, no secret there. We've known you were crazy for years." His eyes sparkled as he teased her.

"Ha ha, very funny. Listen, I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me this morning."

Emma hadn't noticed till now how stunning his eyes were. In fact, they were a spectacular blue, azure to be precise, with gold around the rims. How unusual, how distracting.

It was now or never. If she didn't ask him, she'd spend another day with no one to understand what it had been like for her these past six months. "Why don't you come over for some dinner tonight? I make a mean chicken stir-fry. Hannah would be thrilled to see that you exist outside of the school building. You know, even though I teach here, she thinks everyone else evaporates into thin air when school's out for the day. So, what do you say?"

She nibbled nervously at her lower lip. God! What was wrong with her? Why did Michael suddenly have such a strange effect on her? She really didn't need this kind of emotional complication right now. She needed someone to talk to, that's all.

"You know what? I'd like that, actually. Thanks for the invitation."

"Perfect. Well, I'd better shut the computer lab down and head on out ahead of you. You know, to tidy up the place." Emma turned to her desktop computer to initiate the shutdown process. Agremon's face popped into view for the briefest of moments, his arrogant gaze threatening his intent. She nearly jumped into Michael's arms with a shriek.

"Oh, my God! Did you see that? Did you see _him_?" she cried out, grabbing a fistful of Michael's shirt in the process. He immediately wrapped his powerful arms like a cage around her trembling body and rubbed her back reassuringly.

"Yeah, I did. I did, damn it," he muttered angrily. "We need to talk, Emma. Your invitation to dinner is perfectly timed."

Something had changed about him in those few moments. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something had definitely changed. There was a tension she could feel rippling through his arms that concerned her. But they also felt right around her, and were the only things keeping her standing. So for now, she threw concern out the window. _God, but his body feels so good, so solid, so_ _strong!_

"We've got to get your daughter right now and go straight to your house. You're in no condition to drive, so let me, and I can pick you up in the morning for work."

"I'm going to take you up on that offer. Thanks, again." There was awkwardness as he released her from his arms, but they both left it unspoken.

Once she was steady on her feet and the computers were shut down, they picked Hannah up from the After School program. Michael locked his office, and they were ready to go.

"Wow!" Hannah bubbled, bouncing up and down on the back seat. "This is the coolest thing I've ever done, Mama. Why are we riding in Mr. D'Angelo's car?" Emma laughed at how such a little thing, like a car ride from a principal, could make her little girl so excited.

"It's because the truck is having engine trouble, sweetie. Right, Mr. D'Angelo?" She gave him a warning glance and he agreed. "Now buckle up." _One little white lie won't hurt_. Emma made a concerted effort during the ride home to act normal, and thanked God her principal had followed her lead.

As they pulled up the long driveway to the house, she saw a polite, quiet child transform into a fidgety, argumentative one right before her eyes. Every suggestion she had for her daughter to do or eat for snack was met with whines and complaints, so she gave up. Of course, Emma knew why she was being so oppositional, but Michael didn't, and if he was perplexed, he kept quiet about it.

The ranch house, inherited from Emma's parents, was small but sat on six acres of prime real estate with mature palm trees lining the drive and desert landscaping around the perimeter. The rest of the lot was left in nature's hands. The view was spectacular with vistas of the mountains nearly everywhere you turned. She always enjoyed the quiet serenity surrounding her home. As she opened the door and entered the house, though, it was a completely different story. Recently, she had been feeling anything but serene inside. Maybe she was sleep-deprived and imagining things, however, she felt as though all the good vibes that used to be there had been sucked out, leaving behind a sense of uneasiness and dread.

Michael walked in and quickly retreated, bumping into Hannah. "Oof! Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? I must have tripped on the threshold here."

"Oh, I'm okay, Mr. D'Angelo. Don't worry." She ran past him to the playroom. Emma went directly to the kitchen, washed up, and put on an apron. She returned to the foyer a moment later with a glass in her hand and stared. There Michael stood, like a statue in the doorway.

Geez, what's up with him? Has he changed his mind about dinner? Or is he feeling the same shroud of negative energy in here as I have for months?

"It'll be easier to have dinner with us if you come on in, Michael," Emma joked. "Why don't you take a load off and have something cool to drink while I get it started?"

"Right, yes, that sounds good, thanks," he stammered, and took the glass of iced tea she offered. Their fingertips touched, sending an unexpected bolt of energy between them. Their eyes immediately connected in surprise and puzzlement.

"Wow! The air must be very dry in here."

"Of course," Michael agreed a little too quickly. "Happens all the time at my house. It's the carpeting." He sat down at the kitchen table and silently watched while she cooked dinner. And as they sat for their meal, they stared at Hannah as she pushed the various morsels of food around her plate, with little actually making it to her mouth.

Emma tried small talk, but Michael appeared preoccupied. He did however offer his compliments to the chef. So she gave up on prying any more conversation out of him and turned to Hannah instead to ask what she'd done in school that day. The perennial, "Nothing," was her reply, and she asked to be excused from the table. There was an hour left before her bedtime, so Emma let her go play in the playroom. The poor girl wouldn't dare go into her bedroom until she absolutely had to.

Emma was a little concerned. She knew what she wanted to talk about, but what on earth did Michael have to say? He'd been so different since he'd seen Agremon on the computer screen. His mood had darkened. There was a quiet ferocity brewing that cast a vibrating aura over him. It unsettled her. This was definitely a side of him she'd never seen before. But then again, nothing these days was as it had been before.

Rather than barreling into their discussion, they settled into a silent rhythm of cleaning up from dinner. With the last dish washed and the last drop of moisture dried, there was no more they could do to stall the inevitable. They had to talk and they had to talk now. Michael followed her to the room next to the kitchen that she used as a study. He sat on the loveseat that faced a stone fireplace. She closed the French doors so they could be seen from across the hall, but not heard.

Emma crossed over to the fireplace and studied the photographs resting on the mantle. She lightly touched the picture frame containing a photograph of her and Hannah covered in finger-paint and she smiled, then flitted her hand onto another one of them sharing a swing and jumping off together. She rested her hand on the largest in the bunch: a black and white image in a thick, black frame. They were facing each other, forehead to forehead and nose to nose, with beautiful expressions of love on both of their faces. She lost herself for a moment in the fond memory the picture elicited before she turned and joined Michael on the loveseat.

His deep voice dissolved any comfort the pictures had provided. "That face we saw on the screen this afternoon, did you see that this morning as well, when you fainted?" His grave tone sent waves of shivers up her spine.

"Yes, actually. But it wasn't just the horrible face. I know it's going to sound crazy, but he spoke to me. He told me his name was Agremon, Hannah's friend. But he's no friend. She told me he's been terrorizing her in nightmares for months now." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. "He said he would visit me in my dreams tonight. And this afternoon, he flat out taunted me."

Michael put a welcomed hand on hers. What she heard herself saying out loud sounded absolutely absurd. But he had seen it, too. And he didn't seem to think she was nuts, so far.

Interesting. Maybe, just maybe he won't have me committed.

"Hannah's been having nightmares for months?"

She nodded silently.

"No wonder she seems so withdrawn and anxious all the time. And now the object of her nightmares is after you." He paused. "Listen to me. I need to ask you some questions and I need you to answer them honestly."

"Okay, but let's get one thing straight. If you're going to ask if I've been doing drugs or drinking too heavily, let me stop you right there. I don't do either, ever. And there's no history of psychosis in the family. My imagination is probably on overdrive after all these months of getting little sleep. I'm sure that after hearing about my daughter's nightmares for so long now, maybe they've become mine as well. But I'm an adult and I can handle it. I just need to get some solid sleep." She hesitated, as a thought flitted through her mind. "But, then again, it doesn't explain why you saw this Agremon creature as well, and seem to know something about him." As she began to think on this very troubling idea, she pulled her hand away from his and grabbed hold of the loveseat's armrest instead, as though clinging to the edge of a cliff.

"I'll explain everything as soon as I get some answers to some very important questions. First of all, I need to know when you and Hannah were born."

"When we were born? Well, we actually share the same birth date, June sixth." They both loved the coincidence and since it was just the two of them, it made it extra special. "Come to think of it, my mother's birthday is June sixth as well."

"And what time were you both born?" he urged on.

"Well, let me think about that one a minute. Hmm. I think I remember my mother saying when I was a little girl that I was born at 6:06 a.m. and Hannah was born at...you're never going to believe this, but she was born at 6:06 p.m. Isn't that interesting?" She paused, suddenly uncomfortable about the peculiarity and where this conversation might be headed. "I never really noticed the coincidence before. Why do you need to know this?" She shifted uneasily.

"Where's your mother now? She should be here, too."

"I wish she could be, God knows, but she's passed on. My father, as well. So that's going to be a little difficult," she replied quietly.

"God, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know. Forgive my abrasiveness. How long has it been?"

"They both died before my sixth birthday, actually. There was a terrible skiing accident. An avalanche wiped out an entire group of skiers in Colorado." She shook her head, still amazed after all these years. "My parents were among them. My grandmother took care of me until she passed away unexpectedly a few months after my parents' deaths. I was placed in foster care until I was eighteen." She stood abruptly, smoothed down her shorts, and walked to the fireplace. "And that's where this story is ending. Let's just say they're not memories I'd wish on my worst enemy. So, now you know my tragic past. It's time for some answers from you, Michael. You know, ever since this afternoon, you've been acting very strangely. You're not yourself. So come clean. What the hell is going on here?"
Chapter Six

There was a silence as thick as molasses. No, Michael wasn't himself. Not at all. Not since he found Emma lying unconscious on her classroom floor earlier this morning. Disquieting thoughts had been swimming through his mind all day, unbidden, and served as frequent distractions. Like how God awful beautiful she was with that long, wavy, dark-as-midnight hair he could easily imagine brushing across his bare skin. And how her almond-shaped eyes were made for seduction. And her lips. Every time she nibbled on the bottom one, he had wanted to help her. How many times had he thought of her like this since the day they'd met six years ago? He figured he had the longest running crush on a woman in history.

He'd never acted on those feelings, though. It was completely unprofessional, and with these latest developments, it was especially awkward. Although he had to admit, for the first time in the six years he'd known her, he felt consumed beyond measure by her raspy voice, her sensuous body, and her strength of character. He found himself totally enthralled and disarmed.

And then, looking at all the pictures on the mantle tonight added to his discomfort. They were pictures of family, of closeness, of an impenetrable bond, and something he knew he would never experience again. A dull ache welled in his heart he that he quickly suppressed.

How was he supposed to explain who he really was, and where did he begin to explain who he suspected she really was, who her daughter really was? It was obvious that she'd never been told what she needed to know about herself and her family lineage. Her mother would have done that on her sixth birthday. What about her grandmother, though? Why hadn't she told her? She probably never got the chance.

It was vital that she knew now, or else Hannah's nightmares wouldn't solely be her own; they would be shared by every mortal on this Earth.

"Okay, I need you to sit down and listen to me very carefully. What I have to tell you isn't going to be easy to hear. It isn't easy to say. I want you to promise that you'll give me a chance to explain, that you won't throw me out or call the police."

"Now you're starting to scare me. What, are you some kind of lunatic escaped from a mental hospital, and you've been living a secret life as the favorite principal in a two-bit town?"

"Emma, please, come sit down and I'll try my best to explain. But you have to promise that you'll listen to everything. Please," he pleaded with an outstretched arm.

"All right," she agreed, joining him on the loveseat. "I promise, now tell me."

"My name _is_ Michael, and I really am the principal of Prophet's Point Elementary School. But I also have another job. I was sent here six years ago by the company I work for, Brethren Security and Investigations. There was intelligence gathered alluding to some kind of disturbance here, but nothing specific about who it involved. I've been on alert ever since. I am one of the Protectors of the Good. I am an angel, an immortal."

Emma stared at him, eyes wide as saucers. She opened her mouth as if to respond when he quickly continued, "Uh-uh. You promised you'd hear me out, and I have so much more to tell you." She closed her mouth and Michael could see the cynicism washing over her as she folded her arms and crossed her legs. But he forged ahead undaunted. "This Agremon you're referring to is a really bad guy. He used to be part of the Brethren, but he fell from grace and now works for this Namirha. Dollars to doughnuts, Namirha is an alias for Satan. With what you've told me about your birthdays and Hannah's nightmares, it looks as though Namirha wants her and is using Agremon to get her. Agremon's the perfect guy to get her, too. He's able to turn dreams into nightmares, invade people's imaginations, and take souls while they sleep. When you die in one of his concocted dreams, you die for real. Listen closely. We can't let Agremon get near her again."

"On that point, I agree." She unfolded her arms, uncrossed her legs, and scooted to the edge of her seat. "Leaving everything else you've told me about yourself aside for the moment, because God knows, I need to; you should know that last night, when I heard her screaming, I walked in to find her in a tug of war with some kind of invisible force." She rubbed sweaty palms on her lap. "When I got close to her, she stopped. She said I saved her from being taken by Agremon to a Mr. Namirha so she could be his daughter. Are you telling me that all that's been happening, that Hannah's nightmares are real?"

"Yes, I am. And it looks like you literally are Hannah's savior. Agremon couldn't take her with you there beside her. Now the threat is clear. Namirha wants Hannah, but why as his daughter? That is the question."

***

Stunned, Emma sat silent.

"What are you thinking?"

"I think you can obviously understand how all this might sound to me. I don't know if I can believe it, believe you." She nervously combed her hands through her hair. "I mean, what am I supposed to do here, Michael? Are you crazy? Am I crazy, too, if I want to believe you? I mean we're talking about my baby here, my Hannah. She's all I've got in this world." She was quickly becoming unglued, and he turned her to face him with strong yet gentle hands. He cupped her face and looked at her with those piercing azure eyes.

"First of all, I'm not crazy and neither are you. Secondly, I am not going to let anything happen to Hannah or you. And finally, there's actually more to tell. About the two of you. When you hear what I have to say, I think you'll be impressed." He released his hold on her, and she felt instantly bereft, like a vital connection had been cut off. How strange was it that she could be feeling this way about a man, and a seemingly crazy man to boot?

"Okay, okay. Tell me the rest of it. I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Emma breathed in deeply trying to get a grip on things, but who was she fooling? There were no handholds to be found.

"If my guess is right, and I'm pretty damn sure it is, you come from a long line of extremely powerful and gifted women."

"Well, I could have told you that," she joked, desperately trying to lighten up a situation that had become disturbingly dark. She was doing her best to get back on solid ground.

He continued, "When you told me your birthdates, I immediately knew who you were."

"You're not making sense. Of course you know who I am. I've been working for you for six years." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Yes, I know, that's a part of you. But the part that was lost to you when your mother died is what I'm referring to. Your lineage, Emma, is ancient. Every generation in your family lineage, for as long as history has been recorded, has had a mother and daughter born on the same date, June 6, at precisely the same time 6:06, either a.m. or p.m. Every generation. Usually, on the daughter's sixth birthday, all the knowledge and special gifts are revealed, passed on from mother to daughter.

"Each mother and daughter has had to do battle with evil on a variety of levels. But you didn't get that chance to learn this. I suspect Namirha had a hand in that. You and your daughter are connected to a source of great ancient power and a prophecy foretelling the salvation of this generation. I may be a Protector, but Hannah," he explained, pointing in her direction, "I believe, is meant to be the Great Warrior Child, and you, as her mother, are meant to be the Great Savior Mother. With this knowledge comes great strength and gifts that need to be uncovered by each of you and mastered in order to defeat whatever plans Namirha has in mind. I can help you. I must help you. The fate of the mortal world hangs in the balance."

Conflicting thoughts swirled around in Emma's mind. She stood abruptly and paced the floor. Her face flushed and her heart raced. "All right, Michael, I've been very patient, considering. I've listened like you asked. You know," she tittered as her eyes snapped to a copy of Alice in Wonderland on the bookshelf. "I had really invited you over here tonight because I had kept Hannah's nightmares a secret, and after last night, well, I couldn't do it anymore.

"I needed to have someone besides me know what was going on around here, so I could look at that person and find the strength to go on. I thought it could be you." A gulp of air, a slow release, and she turned to face him as her body seemed to hum with unrestrained energy. "Now you share with me a story about who you 'really' are, who my daughter 'really' is, and who I 'really' am, and you know what? I'm not buying it. Not at all, buddy. So I'm going to ask you politely to get your 'immortal' ass out of my house before I do call the police. I suggest you forget about your goodbyes to Hannah, and go. Now."

Damn, it was going so well.

She had misjudged him completely. She stalked towards the front door. Michael grabbed her arm. She looked from his hand on her arm to his face. If looks could kill, she was confident hers would kill him good and dead. He let her go.

"I really don't think I should go given the situation with Agremon. I'm a Protector, Emma. I can protect her."

"I'll protect my daughter, thank you very much. I've been doing fine so far. Now get out."

She opened the door and dismissed him like one of her students. He didn't argue any further.

_How could he?_ Emma slammed the door shut behind him. She slumped to the floor, elbows on her knees, forehead leaning heavily on the palms of her hands.

_How could he do this to me when I'm in such a vulnerable state? Burned again, damn it. I should have known better by now. I should have kept my problems to myself and found a way to solve them that didn't involve others. The man is obviously insane! Immortal, my ass! Special gifts, ancient powers. Fantastical stories...all of it! What drugs has he been taking?_ But he knew Agremon and Namirha. _No, I just can't believe his story is real. And if it is real, well then, I'll find a way to handle it on my own, without him._

It took a few minutes, but Emma gathered herself together, got back up, and went to the kitchen in search of some aspirin. _Hell!_ There were none left. She really was all alone in this. The one person she thought she could trust had gone off the deep end, nearly taking her with him. Thank goodness she had the presence of mind to throw him out.

What she really needed right now was to shake this disaster off. She needed to be with Hannah and do her routine chores. So she went to the playroom to hang out with her best girl, but as she entered, she heard her playing with her Barbie dolls. She stopped at the doorway to watch and listen. It reminded Emma of when she was young and had played with her own dolls. Hannah had a Barbie doll in one hand and a Ken doll in the other. She'd dressed Barbie in her wedding gown, and Ken wore a red satin jumpsuit. They were attached to each other with a string, and Hannah had the Ken doll yanking on the string and the Barbie doll was being thrashed around. As Emma watched, her rosy nostalgia turned to shock and dismay. And then Hannah spoke for the dolls.

In a deep voice, she boomed, "For the last time you are coming with me or I will kill you!"

Then she changed to a high lilt. "I won't go, you evil, evil man! I'm never going to be his daughter, ever!"

Hannah used her teeth to rip through the string. "Aha! You see! You can't hold me! And soon, my army of immortals will be here fighting by my side, to send you at last to your total destruction!"

With the deep timber, she responded, "You may have won for now, but you'll never be safe again."

She made the Barbie doll's hands grab the Ken doll and fling him across the room.

"Hannah! What are you doing?"

"Oh, Mama! I didn't know you were there." A blush washed over her face. "I was playing with my Barbie dolls."

"I see, well, I think I'm going to have to do a better job of monitoring the TV shows you're watching." And when had she learned the words immortal and destruction? Emma shook off the unsettling feeling creeping over her. "It's time to get ready for bed, so why don't you get in your jammies, brush your teeth and hair, and come to my room? I remember hearing that some really amazing mother gave permission for one amazing kid to sleep in the queen's bed tonight. Since I am the queen of this house, you must be that amazing kid! So, scoot!"

"Thanks, Mama! I'll meet you in your room, okay, really fast!" Hannah leaped into her arms and nearly knocked her over, ending the love fest with a bear hug. She sprinted to her bedroom in a flash and was out just as quickly.

Emma staggered to her bedroom, weariness suddenly overtaking her, and turned down the sheets. Hannah appeared by the door and came tentatively into the room. She slid quietly into the bed.

"Hey, Mama, where's Mr. D'Angelo?"

"Oh, he had to go, sweetie. He said to tell you goodbye and he'd see you in the morning."

"Oh, okay," she yawned.

_In the morning! Shit!_ He had to pick them up for school since she'd left her truck there. _Not in this lifetime!_ She would call and cancel with him, and have Maddie come pick them up instead. Problem solved.

Liar. Her problems weren't nearly solved.

Emma ruffled Hannah's hair and kissed her soundly on the forehead. "Good night, my angel. I'll be in after I look through my e-mail and do some chores. I love you," she cooed in her ear.

"I love you more," Hannah whispered back, and wrapped her arms around her mother's neck.

"I love you most," Emma replied, nuzzling her neck.

"You win, Mama."

"We both do, Angel."

The nightly ritual always made Hannah smile while drifting off to sleep. It broke Emma's heart knowing the smile never lasted very long. She made sure to put the bedside table light on before she left and kept the door wide open.

Returning to her study, her favorite place to unwind, she eased into the overstuffed chair by the fireplace and settled her laptop on her knees. She loved this chair. She had a vague memory of sitting in it as a child with her mother. Now, it felt like she received a comforting hug every time she sat down on its downy pillows. Her tensed muscles slowly relaxed. She decided to close her eyes for a couple of minutes while the laptop was booting up.

No harm in doing that.
Chapter Seven

Michael slammed his hands against the steering wheel as he drove back up the driveway to the street. _As if I should have expected Emma to have reacted any_ _differently?_

He understood her anger, her denial. She should have known who she was when she was six years old, not by accident at thirty. Too much time had gone by. Enough time for a child's innocence to have died and an adult's cynicism to set in. But if he looked at this objectively, how could he hold back? Their lives were in danger, as was the fate of the mortal world. There was no time to be gentle and take it slow.

_So Satan has re-surfaced, and Agremon is with him._ Agremon's presence intrigued Michael more than Satan hanging a shingle. There was a score to be settled with the fallen angel. Brethren weren't usually in the revenge business, but this development called for an exception. It'd been a long time since the forces of Good and Evil collided. It had been a war to rock both mortal and immortal worlds—Michael's specifically. This time, he wagered, wouldn't be any easier. One thing was certain, Agremon would die.

Unwilling to let Emma and her daughter face whatever the demon had in mind for them, he spun the car around, drove back up the driveway, and parked. He would protect them with every ounce of his blessed immortal soul.

And this time, he wouldn't fail.

Michael turned on the radio to occupy his time. He didn't know when he would sense Agremon's presence this evening and wished he'd been able to give mother and daughter his Talismans to wear before he'd been thrown out. But he hadn't forgotten the energy flow, nicely covered up with a remark about static electricity, which occurred between him and Emma. That would help since he could still feel that connection, microscopic as it was, connecting the two of them together. He would have to be extra vigilant tonight at picking up on the particular thread of fear that would be floating through the air like silky energy waves. "Garbage, garbage, ah, the news. That'll work." He eased his seat back, cranked up the volume, and closed his eyes.

"...the Arson Squad is investigating. In other news, The Source, a religious group, or cult as some people are coining it, has gained wild popularity overseas and now has reportedly found a new home base in Arizona. The group's leader, Ahriman Namirha, has been seen all around the state this month recruiting followers...."

Michael's eyes sprung open and he bolted upright in his seat. _So this is how Satan's doing things this time around._ He had taken on human form and used a cult to insinuate evil into the mortals' minds to cultivate his minions. A rather ingenious plan, even if it did lack some inventiveness.

But what did Namirha need from Hannah? He decided to call Gabriel, one of the other Brethren. If he couldn't figure it out, no one could. After giving him all the information he had gathered, he put his phone away and began a sweep of the area surrounding the house. It was a mental sweep to pick up on any trail Agremon might be laying down as he came to mother or daughter in their dreams. He felt nothing yet. While part of his brain conducted the incessant sweep, another part checked all of his vital powers, making sure he was armed and ready for whatever was required. He had quite the arsenal of protective gifts, which made him the most powerful Protector out of the three that existed: he, Gabriel, and Urie.

He was going to need his team, as well as the other Brethren teams: the Warriors and the Saviors, and their troops, to defeat Evil and keep Emma and Hannah alive.

***

Agremon sewed his dream-world suggestions in Emma's drowsy mind and watched with wicked pleasure as she succumbed. He sent a warm breeze to caress her face, and implanted sounds of ocean waves lapping upon the shore. Birds sang songs that hypnotized and dolphins played off in the distance. He massaged her simmering discontent with her life and suggested that this little vacation on the beach was exactly what she needed.

_That's right, just ease into it Emma_. _No need to rush it. Enjoy your little respite for a few minutes. You look extremely hot in that wisp of a bathing suit I_ _so generously provided for you. Maybe I should have you take a little walk along the shoreline. Mmm. I like the way your sinewy muscles move as you take each step. Yes...just like that._

Emma's body moved like a tigress from her chaise lounge as he compelled her to do his bidding.

***

Emma walked along the pristine beach, the warm breeze seducing her with its fingers burrowing into her hair and massaging away the months of built-up tension in her shoulders. She was lost in the sensual experience. For an instant, she pictured Michael giving her the massage, and then scowled.

Agremon appeared before her like a gruesome tower of flesh, wearing of all things—surfer's shorts.

"Hello, my precious. Well, aren't you looking particularly delectable today? I do have great taste in swimwear, wouldn't you agree?"

"Wh-wh-what? Oh, my God!" Her heart skipped a beat as she stood frozen in place, staring at the behemoth in front of her. His entire body appeared mottled red and black, and bubbly, like his face, with little thorny protrusions all over his arms. He was even more grotesque than he had appeared on the computer screen earlier that day, and she forced the bile back down, scorching her throat in the process.

"Thank the devil I'm not your God, but I could definitely let you worship me like I was. You are one hot mama, you know that? Hey, isn't that what Hannah calls you, Mama? I have a great idea! Why don't I go get her and bring her here with us? We could have a family picnic right here on the beach. It would be so cozy, only the three of us. What do you think?" Fire blazed in his eyes as he ran his tongue over his needle-sharp teeth. Blood oozed out of his mouth.

"I'm going to wake up; I'm going to wake up right now. I'm having a nightmare and I'm going to stop it right now," Emma muttered over and over, squeezing her eyelids shut as her body dropped to the sand beneath her.

"You're pathetic if you think you can wake from this dream, precious. This isn't just any old dream. You've got the Master's Original made especially for you. Now let's get this party started."

With a mere wave of his hand, Agremon abruptly altered their surroundings to one of a cemetery. A dense fog hung around them like a shroud, and a cold darkness replaced the warmth of the soothing sunshine. Emma shuddered uncontrollably. He compelled her to stand before what appeared to be a centuries old mausoleum. With another wave, he changed their attire. He was decked out in a funereal suit, and she wore a strapless, sheer, black chiffon evening gown. As awareness finally broke through her stupor, she looked around. For a moment, she almost wanted to laugh.

"If you think turning this into one of those old time vampire movies can scare me, you're way wrong. I grew up watching those silly movies and loved them." A spark of confidence ignited inside her. _I might live through this nightmare yet._

"Don't you think I knew that little detail about you? I research my subjects very carefully, precious. Oh no, you're not starring in a campy vampire movie. I've something very special planned for you. I'll be on my way now. I've a date with a little girl I know who loves when I come to visit."

"Don't you go near my daughter, you bastard!" Emma shrieked. She lunged towards him with nails ready to rip him to shreds. He simply froze her in place.

"Have fun! Oh, I believe the mausoleum is where your party is." Agremon raised a finger, spun it around, and pointed to the mausoleum. Her body immediately swung around and began moving jerkily towards the small decrepit building.

"Ooh, you're a fighter. I like a challenge."

***

Michael picked up on something. The microscopic thread that held Emma to him was definitely humming. It seemed too early for her to be asleep. But then again, she hadn't had much sleep for a long time. If he'd known sooner what was happening to Hannah...what was done was done. All he could do was protect them as best he could now. He raised his own shields so he couldn't be detected by Agremon and got out of the car. Keys in his pocket, phone on vibrate, he made his way quickly yet cautiously up the dirt driveway.

As he approached the house, the humming got exponentially stronger. Something was definitely happening, and it wasn't good. He raced up the path to the front door. It was locked. That wouldn't keep him out. He waved his hand over the lock to open it and crossed the threshold. Where was she? His senses drew him to the study. When he entered the room, he stopped short, barely containing his rage. He found her crouched in a fetal position on the oversized chair, laptop broken to pieces on the floor in front of her. He hustled over and felt her skin. She was ice cold, and there were beads of sweat on her brow. Her breathing was shallow and her heart raced. _Damned Agremon!_ Michael had to get her out of that nightmare, and fast. The quickest way to get her out was for him to go in. But he had to protect Hannah first.

While reaching into his pocket for a Talisman, he raced to find her bedroom. She wasn't in there. He tried Emma's room next and entered silently, relieved to see Hannah unaffected by the demonic Agremon. He wrapped the protective necklace around her neck and sped back to the study.

Swapping places with Emma, he gingerly rested her on his lap. In order to enter her dreams, as much bodily contact as possible was necessary. He placed his right hand on her forehead and slowed his breathing down considerably.

It took a couple of breaths and he was in. He found himself wading through her past dreams and thoughts she kept to herself. After passing through dreams about test anxiety, disastrous dates, a marriage gone wrong, and an overwhelming sense of distrust of people, he finally came to her current nightmare.

"Agremon certainly has a flair for the dramatic," he muttered dryly as he glanced around. A cemetery of all places. He heard faint whimpering coming from the mausoleum to his right. "She must be in there." He approached the door and was immediately thrown back, landing with a harsh thud on a gravestone. Agremon had shielded it, barring anyone from entering. As Michael recovered, he noticed her name, _Emma Livingston,_ written on the gravestone. In fact, as he looked around, every gravestone had her name on it, even the mausoleum. "Nice touch, asshole," he hissed. Calling upon his protective powers, he spoke the sacred word, _Discaoil_ , and dissolved the shield like it was tissue paper. Michael trudged toward the small doorway to the crypt. Of course, it was sealed shut. What would a nightmare be without complications and roadblocks?

"Emma! It's me, Michael! I've come to get you out of there! Hold on!" he called out, hoping she heard him. The seal would take a little longer to dismantle. He reached inward to find the right protection key to unlock it. Once found, he spoke those sacred words, and the door crumbled to rubble on the ground.

***

Emma lapsed in and out of control. As hard as she fought against going into the mausoleum, she couldn't break free from Agremon's tight reign over her. Her limbs trembled in defiance. Anger was good. She could function with anger, but the fear that followed when the door sealed shut crippled her.

He knew. The bastard knew.

The dark terrified her. When that mausoleum door closed behind her, she was thrust back in time. She turned into the four-year-old girl who'd gotten stuck in a pitch-black, dank basement closet while playing Hide and Seek with friends. It felt like forever until someone found her. Everyone had thought no harm done, but for her, that day, Darkness became her enemy—an enemy she had yet to defeat.

Emma stood unmoving, paralyzed by her infernal fear, while her scream tried to echo, but came up empty. She had to find a wall, a corner, something to shield her. Being exposed this way in the middle of the room wouldn't be safe. Who knew what could come at her? Agremon did. She knew that now.

He would use her own fears to scare her to death, literally.
Chapter Eight

Emma willed her legs to move as she felt around for a wall. She hadn't been able to see much of anything when she had first entered the crypt, and now that she was sealed in, she was surrounded by a stygian darkness. She bumped into something solid and stone-like, and immediately crouched down on the floor in a fetal position. Her body shook, her lips trembled and her mind conjured creepy-crawlies, fantastic monsters, and demons of all shapes and sizes. And they came, one and all in full force, to crawl over her skin, to nip and paw at her, and to literally pull her to pieces.

"I'm going to wake up, I'm going to wake up," she simpered over and over like a mantra while she rocked herself.

A loud rumble sent shockwaves through her body. And, as if from another dimension, she heard her name, insistent and urgent. A giant monster emerged from the rubble and stood before her warped mind. She scuttled feverishly even further into the crypt.

"Get away from me, get away!" she cried out madly, deep in the throes of terror.

"Emma, look at me. It's me, Michael. I'm not here to hurt you. I've come to take you out of this nightmare. Can I do that, Emma? Would you let me? Hannah's waiting for you. You have to let me come a little closer to you so I can help get you out of here, all right?"

"No!" She struggled furiously with him when he picked her up. Her arms flailed wildly, but they were no match for his strength. With all of her energy spent, she had no fight left in her and gave up, going limp in his arms.

"Don't hurt me," she whimpered feebly, and swiped at the imaginary spiders crawling up and down her arms.

"I would never hurt you, Emma. Never."

As he carried her out of the mausoleum, she could feel her tattered gown dragging against the craggy ground. She batted at invisible webs that she was convinced had been woven over her face.

"It's gonna take all of my energy to get us out of this nightmare, but I can do it. Then, I'll get help from Raphael, a Savior, to heal your mind and soul. Until then, you're gonna be plagued with bouts of terror. I'm so sorry. The Talisman I'll give you can help ease that a bit, but it won't rid you of the terror completely." He placed his hand on her forehead, gently closed her eyelids, and breathed slowly in and out.

She awakened and immediately began fighting again. A hoarse whisper was all that she could muster. "Let me go, you monster! Let me go!"

"Emma, I've got you. You're safe now. You're safe." Michael gathered her close, his arms encircling her as he'd done that morning, giving her all of his protection. He nuzzled his face in her hair and kissed her forehead, her temples, and her cheeks.

"You're safe," he repeated.

She looked up at him, finally comprehending it was Michael holding her and not some horrifying zombie. They were back in the study and she relaxed. For the first time since her nightmare had begun, she saw with eyes free of terror yet filled with undeniable understanding and defeat. She clung to him with desperation and sobbed. And he held on.

"It's okay, Emma. Everything is going to be okay. You're safe now. I'm here, and I won't let anything harm you or Hannah."

"Hannah! Oh, my God, Hannah! He's gone after her! Michael, we have to wake her up! I won't let him take my baby girl!" Frantic to go to her daughter, she tore away from him and immediately fell to the floor. But sheer determination got her to her hands and knees scrambling toward her daughter's bedroom.

"Whoa, slow down." He grabbed her by the waist and stalled her advance. "Before coming to get you, I put a Talisman around her, a protective necklace. Agremon can't get her while she's wearing it. I have one for you, too. Here," he offered, while digging in his pants pocket. "Put it on right now and Agremon won't be able to get to you again either." He held it out to her. Her hands shook so much that he had to help put it around her neck.

"Thank you. I-I-I have to go to her. I have to see that she's all right. Lord, but I can't go to her looking like this! You won't believe what Agremon's dressed me in, the freakin' pervert. Wait a minute. You got me out of there, so you already know what I'm wearing." She paused and took a breath. "Good grief!" she muttered and her head dropped in wretched embarrassment. He gently touched her cheek.

"Emma, look at yourself, sweetheart. He only dressed you up that way in your dream. See? You're still in shorts and a top. No worries." She wasn't totally relieved. After all, he had seen her wearing that Frederick's of Hollywood get-up in her dream. She hoped he had a short memory, but something pressing against her thighs told her his memory was in perfect working order. Maybe she shouldn't be so embarrassed.

"Let me help you up. You still seem a bit shaky." As he coaxed her up off the floor, he held her hands, and she felt a curious surge of energy flow continuously between them. She stood now, filled with wonder.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Y-yes, it does, actually. I think I felt this earlier at school, when you held me. W-what is it?" she asked tentatively.

"It's my protective energy connecting with your healing energy. Your powers are awakening. Thank goodness tomorrow's the last day of school. We have a lot of work to do. Now, let's go check on Hannah." He gave her a dashing smile and haltingly let her go.

She slept peacefully as Michael had promised. But Emma wouldn't leave the room, nor agree to get some sleep herself. She hunkered down on the loveseat by her bed and watched.

"I guess I'll get going now that I know you two are safe," Michael said as he made his way out of the bedroom.

"Y-you're leaving?" She shifted her gaze to the man who had come back to save her and her daughter. Against her cynical nature, she found herself disappointed. She actually wanted this man—no, needed this man to stay, even though she feared what that meant for her heart. Brushing that need aside she put on a brave face. "Well, thanks for coming back for me. I'm sorry about earlier. I've got a bit of a trust issue, which I'm sure you've noticed by now. I promise to work on it. But at the moment, I-I'm not even trusting my own mind," she stammered, as a bout of terror took hold.

"I'm glad I turned around and stayed so I could be here for you and Hannah. You're safe now. I ju..."

"C-c-could you stay, please?" she blurted out, interrupting whatever he'd planned to say next. "I'm not ashamed to say I don't want to be alone. Even with my eyes open, I can feel the terror creeping back in. Frightening images fly in and out of my brain. They won't stop. I can't stop them. Oh, God," she shuddered while trying in vain to pound the terror out of her head with her fists. "I-I need you, Michael, please?"

"Sure. I can stay as long as you want. Why don't I sit right down next to you, then? It looks nice and cozy, and I could hold you again, if you'd like."

"Yes, I'd like that, thank you." Relief washed over her, and she watched as he lithely walked back to sit beside her. He quickly grabbed her fisted hands and soothed them open. She gazed into the eyes that continually captivated her, while her own were already brimming with unshed tears. As the drops flooded down her face, he tenderly reached out to catch them.

"Make it go away, Michael," she whimpered, and her breath caught. "Can you make the terror go away?"

"With eyes like yours, looking at me that way, I would make the world go away if you asked."

He reached for her, and in one swift motion, cradled her in his arms. She clung to his sheltering body for dear life, and took a slow, shaky breath. He gently rocked her and stroked her hair, and eventually her heart rate slowed down, her breathing steadied, and she relaxed in his arms.

Emma's last thought before fading into sleep was that Hannah was safe, she was safe, and Michael's protection would guard them through the night.

***

Agremon eased himself into Hannah's mind and immediately got slammed by a shield. White-hot sparks flew around him, and he shook his hands from the pain of it. _How and when had she become shielded against me? Who would dare_ _to do such a bold and dangerous thing? Are they mad? Don't they know who they are dealing with?_ He pushed against the shield, and more white-hot sparks shot in every direction, but it still wouldn't budge. As he pulled away, he absorbed the pain with a wicked grin, and this time he felt the source of the energy.

_The Protector! So, he's back. Interesting. What is he doing here? Namirha should be notified immediately._ But, he could wait. Agremon had planned to feast off the terror of the little girl before giving her over. If he couldn't do that with Hannah tonight, then he'd find another soul, and another, until his anger was assuaged. Nobody kept him from doing his job.

One way or another, terror will reign tonight.
Chapter Nine

" _All we are saying is give peace a chance. All we are saying is give peace a chance...."_ Emma's arm sailed through the air and gave her alarm clock a good whack. Not a very peaceful reaction, but she'd work on that another day. At least she had remembered to change it from that infernal beeping to the radio alarm yesterday morning. Morning? Already? But, it was the last day of school, wasn't it? _Yes!_

She stretched lazily like a cat, but felt like she'd overdone a workout. Every muscle in her body ached. A couple of aspirin would relieve that. Oh, right, she ran out of aspirin yesterday. _Yesterday_. Images slowly crept back into her mind. A grotesque face, walking on a balmy beach, a crypt, black chiffon, Hannah sleeping. _Hannah!_

She turned over in her bed to see an angelic face on the pillow next to hers, and let out a sigh of relief. She was already starting to stir. Her eyes fluttered a few times and then opened sparkling upon her mother.

"Good morning, sunshine. Happy last day of school," Emma cheered, albeit groggily.

"Good morning. Happy last day of school to you, too." She yawned. "Mama, I think I slept through the night. I don't remember getting up at all. Did I get up?"

"No, you didn't, honey. Isn't that awesome?"

"Yeah. Hey, what's this?" Hannah was fumbling with what looked like a medallion the size of a half-dollar. "Where'd this come from?" There was an etching of the archangel, Michael, on one side, and when she turned it over, there was an inscription written in what looked like an ancient language. "It's pretty. Did you give this to me? I bet it's my lucky charm. I bet that's why I slept through the night."

She sure was astute for such a little girl. Suddenly, Emma remembered being held protectively in someone's arms, of Michael giving her a talisman, too. She reached her hand to her throat. There it was. Hmmm, the picture looked just like Michael.

Michael. Where did he go?

"Mama, why are you still in your clothes from yesterday? Did you fall asleep with them on?"

"I guess I did."

"You're a silly goose." Hannah reached over and tickled her mother's belly. "Hey, cut that out." She giggled, tickling her right back. "It's time to get ready for school, so let's hop to it." With that, she gave Hannah's bottom a tap and sent her on her way.

Emma quickly got out of bed, ignoring the pain that fired through every muscle and bone in her body. She had to find Michael. What would Hannah think if she found him in their house? As far as she knew, he had left after dinner last night. Emma raced around the house like a lunatic, but he was nowhere to be found. And then she heard a light knocking on the front door.

She peered through the peephole. There he was, exuding freshness and looking utterly delicious. She, on the other hand, felt like a train wreck. She couldn't let him see her in this condition! He knocked again, a little louder. But in actuality, he had seen her at her worst. And why should she be concerned about her appearance, anyway? It was only Michael, right? Michael who had saved her ass last night and held her in the most caring way no one had ever done before. She fussed with her hair, pinched her cheeks, and mustered her best smile as she opened the door.

"I brought some bagels for breakfast. I hope you're hungry." Michael stood in the doorway, a toss-up between a sheepish boy and a virile man. It made for an oddly appealing combination.

"I'm famished actually. And Hannah loves bagels. Come on in." She stepped aside to let him pass.

There wasn't quite enough room, and as he entered, his arm rubbed against hers. There was an immediate rush of energy that coursed through her like a runaway train, and she simply stood there dumbstruck, bagels forgotten, door ajar. _This energy feels so good, so invigorating, and comforting at the same_ _time._ Michael's brow furrowed, and he seemed suddenly annoyed, unsettled. He quickly stepped away from her.

"Hi, Mr. D'Angelo," Hannah mumbled in her quiet way as she walked into the foyer. "It's the last day of school."

"Oh, well, good morning, sunshine." A broad smile appeared on his face. "I know, isn't that great? Sorry about not saying goodbye to you personally last night, but I thought I'd make it up to you with bagels. What do you say? Do you forgive me?"

"Bagels? You are very forgiven." Hannah's demeanor instantly brightened. "I'll take the bag to the kitchen for you. Can I get everything ready for breakfast, Mama? I know how. I can make it look like a tea party for our last day of school breakfast. Please?"

"Sure, sweetie, go ahead. That sounds terrific."

As her daughter scampered off to the kitchen, Emma closed the front door and turned toward Michael. "You weren't there when I woke up this morning. In fact, I woke up in my bed. You left us. Where did you go?"

_Did I really just say that out loud?_ She couldn't even look him in the eyes, knowing she sounded like an immature, insecure girlfriend of all things, but she couldn't help herself. Trusting men was so out of her nature at this point. She felt part jilted lover and part idiot for actually wanting to have awakened in his arms this morning. _Lord, but I am so messed up in the head._

Emma concealed the hurt and confusion with annoyance as Michael took a long moment to respond. "I didn't think it was wise for Hannah to see us together when she awoke this morning. So, I put you to bed and went home to change clothes."

"Oh, I see." _I see I'm a total idiot._

"I only left here about an hour ago. You're both wearing the Talismans I gave you. You should've been fine. You were, weren't you? Agremon didn't try anything again, did he?" Michael placed his hands on her shoulders, and she shriveled under his clinical, probing gaze as he looked in her eyes.

"No, no. We were fine. Just as you said we would be." _And now I'm feeling like_ _an even bigger idiot._ "Hannah slept through the night, actually. And you're right. She shouldn't have seen you, with me, like, you know, the way we were last night. We wouldn't want to give her the wrong idea about us. Well, I've got to get ready or we'll wind up late for the last day of school. Make yourself at home. I'll be ready in a flash." She broke free from his hold, but he caught her hand in his as she made her way towards her bedroom.

"Emma, after school today, we'll take her to the park. We'll talk. She's got to know everything. She can handle it. Knowledge is power. And the two of you have much to learn and master."

She nodded, gave him a weak smile while removing her hand from his, and left.

***

"Geez," Michael muttered as he puttered about the study, looking at the picture frames again.

"We wouldn't want to give Hannah the wrong idea? There was nothing wrong about the way you felt in my arms last night, lady. Not one bit. And there was nothing wrong with the ideas that came to mind as a result of it, either." He picked up the picture of Emma and Hannah swinging. "But then again, that disastrous marriage you had going there has left you mighty damaged. You know what, Miss Emma? I think it's my duty to make the repairs. No matter how long it might take."
Chapter Ten

Emma peeled off her clothes and tossed them furiously in the hamper, all the while chastising herself for her immature display. Michael must surely think she's the most neurotic, whacked out woman on the planet. "A few hours in a man's arms and you think you're something special to him?" She pointed heatedly at her reflection. "You are so not ready for any kind of relationship with this man or any man for that matter. Stick to your fantasies, girlfriend. That's all you seem good for these days."

Convinced she'd find lingering marks from Agremon's torment, she stepped back and examined her body, naked except for the Talisman. In her nightmare, she remembered wearing a skimpy bathing suit and a barely there chiffon gown. And in her nightmare, creepy crawlies had scampered intrusively all of her body, pinching and scratching as they blazed their wicked trail. But now, there was nothing remarkable to see. It really had been just a dream, and she had come through it without any physical souvenirs.

She put the Talisman carefully on the counter, ran the shower, and stepped under the water's soothing warmth. As she soaped up, she wished it could wash away all the terrifying images that kept entering her mind. An image popped into her head of Michael, of all people, standing behind her, stroking and soothing her body. For the briefest of moments, he turned into Agremon. She shook her head vigorously and opened her eyes. _Damn! These bouts of terror are wreaking_ _havoc with my mind!_ She thought it best to cut her shower short. So she quickly dried off, spent a few minutes pondering which pair of shorts to shrug into that went with her gorgeous, new sequined tank top, and proceeded to squeeze the water out of her thick hair. As she began the arduous task of brushing through the tangles, her brush got stuck.

"Why don't you let me help you with that?"

Agremon suddenly appeared right behind her and grabbed the brush, yanking on it with his hand. He pulled so hard, her head snapped back.

Emma yelped.

She was now bent over backwards and looking into his face, albeit upside down, with horror. "Ooh, so sorry. I meant to actually rip a good chunk of hair out of your head. You must have very healthy hair. What? Surprised to see me?" He spun her around, getting the brush even more knotted in her hair, and gave her a wicked sneer. "You're a very bad girl, Emma. You've made friends with an old enemy of mine. You shouldn't have done that. For that, you will have to be punished. But we'll get to that later. Give your Protector a message for me, would you, precious? Tell him his little trinkets are no match for me. Tell him I'll be taking what I came here for and there's nothing he can do about it." His teeth had pierced his lips and blood was oozing down his chin.

"I'll see you rot in hell before you get near Hannah again!" she avowed through gritted teeth.

"How'd you know where I live? Have you been keeping tabs on me like a jealous girlfriend?"

He languidly licked her face from chin to temple, gave her hair a final yank, and threw her carelessly against the shower door. "You're of no consequence to me. I will have your daughter, and there's nothing you can do about it. I'll let that knowledge be your punishment. After all, you do a much better job at punishing yourself. You make my work so easy."

With an evil wink, he was gone.

***

Michael knew the instant Agremon had shown up, and quickly put a Level Two protection shield around Hannah, giving her the illusion that everything was fine, and nobody could touch her. Then he raced to the bathroom door and found it sealed like the mausoleum door had been. He heard something crash against the shower door and could only hope Emma was okay. He spoke the sacred words, _an aimsir láithreach,_ to release the seal and rushed inside to find her crumpled on the floor in a heap, her hair nested in a frenzy of tangles. A lingering thread of Agremon's presence remained.

How the hell had he gotten to her again?

Emma was shaking uncontrollably, rubbing her cheek raw with her hand. Michael reached her in a flash and tried to loosen the hold terror had on her. He knelt beside her and gently eased her into a sitting position.

"What happened? I know Agremon was here. I can feel it." He noticed the brush stuck in her hair, and she wouldn't stop scraping her cheek with her hand until he grabbed it. She was mumbling something unintelligible. He noticed the Talisman was missing from around her neck. His voice thundered in the cavernous room. "Emma, where's the Talisman I gave you?"

"I didn't th-think I should wear it in the sh-shower, so I took it off and p-put it on the counter by the sink."

Michael looked over at the counter to find the Talisman lying exactly where she said it would be.

"Damn it! You weren't supposed to take it off, Emma, ever!"

"D-don't yell at me. I didn't know."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Michael's shoulders rose and fell as he took a breath and a moment to compose himself. He continued in a calmer voice. "I guess my directions weren't clear. It's just that, knowing Agremon's gotten to you again, well, it's completely unacceptable and driving me crazy. What happened? What did he do? What did he say? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No, surprisingly I don't think I'm hurt, just a little banged up, I guess. But my brush, as you can see, is now hopelessly tangled in my hair since he tried to scalp me. But that's the least of it." She grabbed his hands and looked earnestly in his eyes. "He knows you're here, Michael. He's angry with me for involving you in this. He told me to give you a message, that your trinkets are no match for him, and he's taking Hannah. And then, and then, he licked my face!"

She pointed shakily to her cheek. "Don't you see his blood all over my face? I gotta get it off me, right now! I gotta get it off!" Terror had clearly taken hold again as she pawed at her cheek, nearly drawing blood.

"Hey, hey, Emma, honey, I'll help you. Stop rubbing your face, baby. You're gonna make it bleed. Here, let me take this damp towel and I'll show you." Michael gently swiped at her sun-kissed cheeks, and then dabbed at her pixy nose. "There's no blood on you, look. It was just an illusion Agremon created. Your face is as beautiful as ever. You see?" As he showed her the towel, she nodded and settled down a bit.

"Can you get this damn brush out of my hair?" She snuffled, frustrated and disappointed that the man who had promised protection had failed to deliver.

"Sure, hold still so I don't hurt you." She felt his fingers gingerly remove her hair strand by strand from the brush. As he freed the last bit of it, he pointed to the Talisman and looked her straight in the eyes. "Now put that necklace on, and never, ever take it off for any reason. Understood?"

"Understood," she acquiesced, understanding begrudgingly the power of Agremon and the talisman that would keep him at bay. Michael's touch had been so delicate, so caring, that Emma's strong defenses couldn't hold. And with every tress that was let loose, her distrust and disappointment had shaken free as well. Her concerns over her crazy attraction to him slowly dissolved into thin air. She gradually rose to her feet, walked to the counter, and put the Talisman back around her neck. She looked at him through the mirror.

"Was he lying, then, about the Talisman being no match for him? He can't get to Hannah anymore, can he?" She was leaning against the counter now. Her legs were doing their best to hold her up under the strain, but they were not completely successful. Neither was the rest of her demeanor. Michael stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She turned within his embrace and held him right back. She heard his heart beating strong and sure, and not nearly as fast as a human's heart would be beating, reminding her she was in the arms of an angel. A true, blue angel. She closed her eyes as waves of comfort and protection surrounded her.

"He won't get to Hannah. And he won't get to you either, ever again. The Talisman has strong ancient power. I've called one of the Brethren, another Protector, who's a genius with intelligence. He'll find out everything we need to know about Namirha's plans. He's also contacting the rest of the Brethren to come and help me out. I don't mess around, Emma. Too many lives are at stake. And there are two lives in particular I've become very attached to."

He drew her head back ever so gently with one hand and stroked her lips with the other. His eyes consumed her, and the mutual longing could no longer be denied. Slowly he bent his head down and his lips grazed hers, soft and gentle as a whisper. As they came together, tiny sparks shot off in all directions, and an aura of rainbow colors formed a protective barrier around them. Emma leaned aggressively into the kiss. He retaliated by teasing her lips open with his tongue. She let out a hungry groan. The urgency of their unexpected desire deepened and they blended into one united entity. Their hearts beat as one, and they breathed for each other as though they did not exist, one without the other. The kiss seemed to last for an eternity, yet in truth it was mere moments.

***

Gradually, they came apart, lips bruised and swollen from their powerful assault. Energy drained back to its source. Michael's control had come undone. Emma had no idea what she and her growing powers had done to him. He hadn't realized until now that helping was a two-way street. Yes, he was protecting her and Hannah, but whether she instinctively knew he needed it or not, she was saving him, and it hurt like hell. The Savior had been awakened inside her and knew that Michael needed healing as much as she. But from what, he couldn't let on yet.

"Well, uh, I'd better see to breakfast. Hannah's been waiting for a while now. I'll just go to the kitchen and get things rolling again while you finish up in here." Michael gave her a quick smile and withdrew from the bathroom before Emma could respond.

Chapter Eleven

"So I asked Mama if once school is out we could get a pool and put it in the backyard. She said maybe. That's better than no, right, Mr. D'Angelo?"

"I think it's definitely better than no, Hannah. Hey, that's a mighty cool looking necklace you got there. Can I have a look?" She agreed enthusiastically, and leaned over the kitchen table for him to get a better look. He inconspicuously checked it out for any breaches in its shielding. They were still holding strong, as they should. He wondered if Emma had mentioned anything at all about it. "Where'd you get this?"

"I don't know, really. You see, I woke up, and it was on me already. Isn't that funny? And I'm never taking it off, either. Know why? Because I slept through the night last night! No bad dreams!" She immediately put her hand to her mouth. Her eyes flew wide open. "Oops! I wasn't supposed to say anything. No one's supposed to know about my bad dreams, Mr. D'Angelo. Please don't say anything. I don't want the kids to make fun of me." She looked so pitiful; he did his best to ease her mind.

"No worries there, little one. On my honor I will never speak of this to another soul in our school. Your secret is safe with me."

"What secret?" Emma came into the kitchen and sat down beside her daughter at the old pine trestle table and planted a huge kiss on her cheek.

"Mama, I kind of told Mr. D'Angelo that I can't sleep and that I have bad dreams. Is that okay?" Hannah tapped her fingers together.

"Yes, honey, that's fine. In fact, after school, we're going to talk more about it together, at the park, all three of us. I think Mr. D'Angelo can help. Now, I see lots of yummy things on this table and I'm starving. Sweetie, the table looks lovely. I'm so proud of you!"

Hannah ate the remainder of her bagel in blushed silence. After the scorching kiss he'd shared with Emma in the bathroom moments ago, Michael found himself preoccupied by troubling thoughts from his tragic past, and chose to avoid her eyes at all cost. And although it felt like he'd already lived through an entire day, it had only been thirty minutes since Agremon had made his appearance. A telling sign that for some reason, as of yet unknown, Michael was off his game. He wasn't a happy camper.

***

Emma knew that for her daughter, the last day of school meant the end to her daily escape from her nightmares. She'd made sure to tuck her very special necklace under her shirt so no one could see it. As they walked to Michael's car earlier that morning, however, Hannah had told her that she felt she could slay dragons or demons with it on. So maybe being home all the time this summer wouldn't be so terrible after all.

For Emma, her final duties were filling out closeout forms that seemed a mile long and locking computers away in closets. The day went along without too many interruptions, and before she knew it, she was standing outside of the school with Maddie and the other teachers waving goodbye to all the children going home on the buses.

She hadn't noticed Michael come stand beside her. He whispered subtly in her ear, "You all right, there? I thought I sensed a thread of Agremon nearby and then it faded."

"Yeah, I'm okay. He popped up in a few kids' faces as I waved goodbye earlier, but I've decided, no matter what he tries, I'm not going to let him disrupt my life anymore. I let myself become a victim again, and I refuse to stay that way."

Michael raised an eyebrow.

_Damn it!_ She didn't mean to share that much, but she couldn't seem to help herself where he was concerned.

"I'm glad to see you feeling stronger, more self-assured. Why don't the two of you go ahead to the park, and I'll meet you there in half an hour? I actually have a few more teachers' forms to sign-off on, and then, I'm all yours."

His gaze lingered. God, but she was dying for him to grab her and kiss the living daylights out of her again.

"Sounds like a plan, and I am feeling better thanks to you. A half hour, then.

We'll be waiting and enjoying the beautiful weather. Don't be late."

"My word is my oath," he replied with a quiet intensity that shook Emma to her very soul. With nothing more to be discussed, they walked back into the school building, he to finish closeouts, she to gather up Hannah.

Emma took the half hour they were waiting for him to catch up on the day with her daughter and doing what Hannah loved: pushing her on the swings. She hoped what Michael had said about her family's history was indeed true. Then, maybe there could be an end to this incessant madness that had become her life. They could be a happy family again, with Good outshining Evil.

Looking at her daughter, she thought she was ready to take on whatever responsibilities she was about to inherit. If it meant lasting security and happiness for Hannah, she'd be willing to do just about anything. The two had returned to their blanketed spot, and she checked her watch, frowning. It was approaching the half hour mark when Michael was due to show.

"Don't start worrying, I'm already here," he teased, walking up to the blanket. He cast a cooling shadow over Emma's face.

"Thank you for sparing my nerves and being punctual. It's such a rare quality in a man these days. But I guess you're about as rare as they come, now aren't you?" she ribbed.

"So they say," he boasted with a twinkle in his eyes. He hunkered down on the blanket next to Emma. "Shall we get started, then? No time like the present, I always say, and the sooner we discuss everything, with Hannah, the better prepared we'll be for whatever Namirha has in store."

"Sure, and by the way, I told Hannah that Ted's Garage came by the school, picked up the truck, and had it fixed by the end of the day. Just so we have our stories straight, okay?"

"All right. Well, I'm gonna have to give Ted's Garage a try then the next time my car is having engine problems. How convenient," he said with a wink.

The afternoon waxed on with the only unpleasant task being the probing of Hannah for details about her dreams, Namirha, and Agremon. She was reticent at first to share anything but came around when a carousel ride was offered as a prize. Then, Michael explained their special gifts and taught them how to recognize exactly how those powers felt when being used. He worked with Emma first.

"Trust that this power is constantly growing inside you. It needs to be harnessed and molded to suit your innate abilities. Close your eyes, hold my hands, and connect with the energy humming through your system. Do you feel it?"

"Yes," Emma whispered.

"Now, imagine there's a little box inside you waiting to be filled. It harnesses the different abilities you possess. I want you to pour a little bit of your power into this box, like you were pouring from a pitcher."

"Okay, I'm imagining, I'm pouring, but I don't know if it's working."

"That's all right. It's working. I can see your aura shifting. Good job. Now, to teach Hannah."

***

"We're magical, Mama! We're magical!" Hannah squealed with delight as Emma healed a cut on her knee, and she could tell what was in the trunk of Michael's car. For the first time in months, Emma saw the exuberant, carefree child burst through the carefully constructed wall Hannah had built around her heart.

"I'm magic, I'm magic!" she sang as she grabbed Emma's hands, pulled her to her feet and danced around in circles. They laughed and collapsed on the blanket, breathless, while Michael watched them, a tender smile creeping across his face.

Emma caught a brief moment of melancholia pass beneath that smile and then watched it disappear as quickly as it had come. She wondered if her playfulness with Hannah and obvious love for each other had brought back shades of memories from a past he hadn't shared with her yet.

The ring of a cell phone pulled her out of her reverie. "Go ahead. Answer it. I'll take Hannah over to the carousel."

***

"Thanks." He answered his phone. "Michael here."

"Yeah, it's Gabriel. I've got some Intel for you. I think you'll find it very interesting."

"Go ahead. I've been finding a lot of things interesting over the past couple of days."

"I bet. Check this out. Namirha definitely has designs on getting his hands on that girl of yours. I checked with E.L. and it's a sure bet that she and her mother are part of that prophecy we were told about. You know the one about the salvation of this generation. Well, the girl's destined to be a leader, Michael. But not just any leader, our Great Warrior Child. She was born to lead our army of immortals against the uprising of Evil.

"Not only that, we believe Namirha's probably aware of the unusual pattern of numbers in her family's birthdates and times of birth. She is as important to him as she is to us. If he gets a hold of her, on her birthday, which is six days away, he can bind her to him in a blood ritual, at precisely 6:06 p.m. You know what that means?"

"Yeah, Gabriel, I know what that means. All her powers become his and all hell literally breaks loose on Earth." Michael balked with disgust. "I'm not about to let that happen. You can be damned sure about that."

"Don't worry, brother. All teams have been contacted. They're en route as we speak, and are due to arrive within the hour at Hannah's residence."

"Thanks, Gabriel. Now, can you get me some Intel on Namirha's cult? If we can get in there, we can get to him before he gets to us. Man, we could really use Hannah's intuitive powers right now. I'm working on it, but damn, she's so young. She's practically a baby, Gabriel. I'm trying to take things slowly, but when the Warriors come, they're not going to be so patient. And in reality, they shouldn't be. We don't have the luxury of time."

"Listen, Michael, she may look young, but there's the soul of an Ancient warrior inside her. Don't forget that. And by the way, when do we ever get enough time to prepare for war? I'll get back to you on the cult thing."

Emma turned away from watching Hannah on her carousel horse as Michael approached. Wasting no time, she plied him for information. "I'm assuming the phone call had something to do with us."
Chapter Twelve

"Yes, actually, it did. We need to get back to your place, now," he urged. "The rest of the Brethren are coming."

Emma pressed, "Michael, you're making me nervous. Who exactly were you talking to and what did he say?"

"You don't have to fear the Brethren. I was talking to Gabriel, another Protector. He confirmed what I thought about you two. The rest is gonna have to wait till we're back at your house. I don't want the Brethren to arrive before us. Come on, I'll walk you back to your truck."

Summarily dismissed, Emma brooded all the way home. Warning flags were flying around her head as misgivings washed over her. To trust or not to trust; that was the question. This man had completely turned her world upside down.

He was her protection and her heart's enemy all at once.

Moment by moment, she decided, was the only way to stay above water. Plus, she had so many questions, and didn't like being kept in the dark, especially when it involved her daughter. She would definitely be setting him straight about that.

***

Michael followed closely behind, not looking forward to her inevitable reaction when he shared the rest of Gabriel's news. Who was he kidding? He could barely get a grip on the idea himself. But Fate didn't care, and certainly never waited for people to get comfortable with their destinies. As he pulled into the driveway, his phone rang. He turned the car off. It was Gabriel.

"What do you have for me?"

"Namirha's been busy establishing his cult called, The Source. He's got a compound on every continent, if not in every country across the globe. The newest compound, the Global Headquarters, is located right outside Prophet's Point, at the foot of the Superstition Mountains. They broke ground on the main worship center about six months ago, and most followers are living in tents and campers at the moment. No doubt Namirha wants to be as close as possible to the child."

"Yeah, well, that's the closest he's gonna get to her. How do we get in?"

"There's a gathering called the Homecoming at the new compound scheduled for Sunday. No doubt he's trying to increase his minions."

"That doesn't give us nearly enough time to prepare. Damn."

"Hey, brother, we'll be extra careful this time. I remember the last time we tussled with Satan. Nobody wants to see a repeat performance."

"No, we surely don't. See you soon. Oh, and make sure shields are up when coming into the house. It's dripping with dark energy." He shoved his phone into his pocket and wearily rubbed his eyes. The last time. Jesus! The last time the Brethren battled Satan, the Brethren won, but not without a price. Mortal losses were high, even with the Saviors' healing, and he'd paid heavily with the loss of his wife and unborn child.

Michael dared to think upon his wife from centuries ago now, Beth. She'd been mortal, and he'd seen that as perfection. Her life was so...normal, and he craved that after living alone for centuries. But being mortal turned out to be her fatal flaw. And loving her had turned out to be his.

Agremon got to her head and heart, turning her against her husband as a last ditch effort for Evil to win. One day, she left home with him at her side, Michael's unborn child kicking madly inside her belly. He slaughtered them over the threshold of his house as the Protector innocently walked up the pathway. He thumbed his nose at him and disappeared. Michael'd never looked at a threshold the same way since.

And now he faced another threshold. Dare he cross it? Emma was extraordinary, gifted. A woman not quite mortal and not quite immortal. With her powers, she could save him from self-destruction. He'd been alone and in a dark place when it came to any kind of relationship outside the Brethren. And now, here she was, with a daughter he adored—a daughter that would soon be fighting alongside his Warriors for the eternal protection of the mortal world. He was having second thoughts. Could he really afford to let himself feel again? He had already tasted and sampled. Could that be enough? Should that be enough? Or was that immaterial?

Emma had stirred a strong craving within him. The moment he'd first met her, the attraction had gripped him, but he'd learned to ignore it over the years. The taste was now a compulsion not to be denied. Duty came first, though, and his primal needs would have to take a backseat, for now.

Michael walked in as Emma and Hannah were putting their school things away. Emma blocked his path, poking him in the chest determinedly and cautioned, "Don't think you're going to sidestep me again. I've had enough. I told Hannah to go to the playroom. If my daughter's life is in danger, you better damn well tell me everything, and what exactly you and this Brethren group are going to do about it."

A harsh knock preempted his full disclosure. Emma scowled. He shrugged. She walked to the front door and checked through the sidelight. She turned back to him. "The cavalry's arrived, and I'd better get my answers, soon." She swung the door open with authority and greeted her guests.

***

"Hello, gentlemen. Won't you come in? We've been expecting you." Massive walls of hardened flesh stood at attention by her doorway. Emma waved them in and quickly stepped back to allow them entry. One of the Brethren spoke first. "Thank you. My name is Kemuel." As he walked through the door, he bent his head down so as not to hit the doorframe. "This is Seraphiel, and that's Nathanael. We are the Warrior Generals of the Brethren. We are honored to be here in the presence of such an ancient and powerful family. To train and fight evil beside the Great Warrior Child is humbling."

She escorted them to the family room. "Yeah, right. You must be joking. Did you know my daughter is only about six years old?"

She laughed. He didn't. She stopped.

"You're not serious, are you? He's not serious, Michael?" She turned to him in near hysterics as his words seeped into her brain. But he wasn't looking at her. He was glaring at Kemuel. "Is this what you've been avoiding telling me? Is it?"

She was engulfed by a fiery flush. Her maternal instinct to protect her daughter had kicked into high gear, and the house's energy vibrated in tune with her own surging energy. The men seemed shocked by her outrage. But she only saw frustration on Michael's furrowed brow.

"Not exactly avoiding. We just keep getting interrupted. Hey, can you give me a few minutes alone with her, please? I didn't get a chance to tell her much yet," he pleaded and rubbed his hands over his face as he escorted her to the kitchen. "Emma, I'm so sorry. I thought we would have more time before they arrived. I...." He reached for her arms.

She shrugged him off, not wanting to be calmed or comforted at the moment. "Don't you give me that bullshit, Michael! You've had plenty of time to tell me everything. It was one thing when you said we were _'from an ancient line of_ _powerful women.'_ Even a little cool that we can do some nifty magic. Now you want me to _believe_ and _allow_ my daughter to be some kind of warrior against evil? It's preposterous, absurd, and absolutely out of the question. She's a child. A baby, _my_ baby. I won't have it, I tell you. I won't! There is no way that Hannah is going to get near any more evil. You're a Protector, you say. Well, protect her, then, damn it. Don't get her involved in this. For God's sake, Michael! She's all I've got!"

Her eyes welled with tears as she grabbed furiously at his shirt sleeves. He wrapped himself around her and drew her towards him. She felt her mind being teased with calmness. She swiped angrily at tears that spilled down her cheeks and ripped away from his hold.

"No! I don't want to be soothed. Not while you're all scheming to send my daughter to a senseless death."

"It's not like that, really. I know you're scared. But that's because you haven't seen what Hannah is capable of. She's your daughter, yes, but she's so much more. Inside her is the soul and power of a great ancient warrior. Your little girl is the only one who can lead us to victory against evil. There is no dou—" Suddenly they heard metal clashing against metal, and a girl's hearty laughter coming from the living room.

"What the hell? I told her to stay in the playroom." Emma dashed back to the family room where she stopped dead in her tracks. There, in the middle of the family room, stood her daughter, wielding a sword against Nathanael.

"Stop it! Stop it this instant! What do you think you're doing?"

Hannah spun around, getting in a quick parry. "Oh, hi, Mama! I was peeking in to see who was here, and all these big guys bowed down like I was a princess or something. They asked if I wanted to play with them. Nathanael is the evil guy, and I'm the Great Warrior Child. Isn't that cool? I'm gonna get him, too, Mama, watch me!"

And with that, she spun back around to face Nathanael, trading swordplay as though she'd been doing it for years. She wasn't playing around with a plastic sword either. She actually held one of the Warrior's swords. Without any problem whatsoever. She'd stunned Emma into silence as she showered blow after blow against him. Nathanael was kneeling on the floor, blocking all of her attacks.

As the swordplay progressed, Emma's stomach clenched into a tight knot while dreadful thoughts of mutilation, severed limbs, and a gruesome early death of her daughter swirled in her mind. It was all too much for her to take in. She charged at her daughter, grabbed the sword from her, and threw it aside. Then she picked Hannah up and whisked her away to her bedroom. Once there, she dropped to the bed and held onto her baby girl with every fiber of her being. She rocked and soothed and petted her precious daughter.

"Mama, what's the matter? Are you okay? 'Cause I'm fine." Hannah pulled back after a moment. "I was having fun. Those guys told me they're my brothers and they're going to help me learn my powers and get Agremon and Mr. Namirha out of here once and for all. They said I am the Great Warrior Child. I feel so much better now that they're here, Mama, don't you?"

"Oh, honey," Emma sighed. "They're not your brothers. They are called the Brethren, and I really don't know how I feel about them being here. I don't like seeing you with a sword in your hand at all, to think of you fighting, putting yourself in such incredible danger. You're my little girl, my angel. I can't imagine anything bad happening to you. I would die first. I want this evil Agremon to go away, but I can't have you fighting. You're just a child. My baby. If anyone is going to fight, it's going to be me. To have you swinging a sword with the idea to kill with it... I just don't think I can get past that. It's not what a mother would allow her child to do."

Hannah took her tiny hands and touched Emma's cheeks while looking intently into her mother's eyes. "It's not only Agremon, Mama. It's Mr. Namirha, too. He's the one who really wants me. But don't be afraid, Mama. You're a great mom. You always do what's right for me. This is right for _us_. I will fight against Agremon and Mr. Namirha and win, because I'll have an army with me. And if I need saving, you can save me, just like you always do." She gave her a big squeeze.

How could a girl who had been so very frightened for the past six months be so very brave now? _She has an ancient, powerful soul inside her. Her powers are_ _awakening._ But could she believe in all of this, in who they really were? There were a host of men in her house who did.

Emma reconciled herself to the fact that she'd lost all control over their destinies. It did nothing to ease the pain in her heart or loosen the ball of tension in her belly. She prayed that the good guys would win without any casualties and that her daughter would be able to live the rest of her life without the threat of any more danger. There was a light tap on the door.

"Can I come in?" called a voice softly from outside the bedroom door. "Yes, Michael," Emma answered, resigned. He'd really screwed up with her, and she could tell by his tentativeness that he knew it, too. Would they be able to get through this and come out the other side intact? She didn't know. What she did know was her heart was in definite turmoil. But this was no time to analyze a budding relationship already on the rocks. Her daughter, her baby, had a soul living inside her actually older than she, with skills and powers that were sure to amaze. She had no choice but to see this all the way through at her daughter's side. She stood up and held Hannah's hand.

"Hey. The Warriors are getting restless and would like to get to work. There's so much to do and very little time. Will you agree to this, all of this, whatever may come? If you don't, I understand. Hell, if I had my choice, I wouldn't want to see either of you involved in any of this either. But honestly, we can't do this without her. As crazy as it sounds, I know we can destroy Namirha and Agremon with her leading us."

"Crazy doesn't even begin to describe this whole mess. You know, as a parent I'd always hoped that one day my child would grow up happy, have lots of friends, and be successful. The key phrases here are 'grows up' and 'one day'. I've just learned that our _one day_ is now. Hannah's sixth birthday is in six days, and instead of celebrating with friends and balloons and laughter, we're looking at going to war against Evil. It's a lot to take in, a lot to commit to. You're asking me to take a huge risk with our lives. If I agree to this, do we get our lives back when it's over? Can we go back to normal?"

"Truthfully, you can never go back to the way things were. Normal will have to look a bit different for you and Hannah. It does for me."

"Of course it does. What am I thinking? You're immortal! What does all of this make us, then? What are we, Michael?"

"That's a good question, and right now, I don't have the answer, except that you and your daughter seem to be the key to Good defeating Evil in this latest battle for world domination. Do you have an answer for me, then? Are you agreeing to move forward with Hannah? With the Brethren?"

"Oh please, Mama! I can do this, I know I can. And I need to. I can feel it deep inside. I've been scared for so long, but ever since I got this necklace, I've been feeling things and thinking things like I was somebody else, somebody more than me. I've been getting stronger inside. I have to do this, Mama. Do this with me."

Such maturity from one so young. But not so young, after all.

It pained her so to say it, but she agreed. "Yes, we'll do this, together. But if anything should happen to this one," she threatened, pointing to Hannah, "Agremon's schemes will seem like child's play when I'm through with all of you."

"Spoken like a Savior, through and through." Michael's voice was filled with respect.

"No, spoken like a mother. I'd bet you my maternal instincts are far more powerful than my ability to heal any day of the week."

"Why don't we get to work on that then? Hannah, you're going to be training with Kemuel, Nathanael, and Seraphiel. They are your generals and will teach you everything you need to know about using your powers." They walked out to the living room. The three men immediately stood, all raising a questioning brow.

"Well, Kemuel, why don't you begin your training?" Michael suggested.

"Excellent. We'll use the backyard. It's the perfect place for this kind of training."

"Can I ask, please," Emma interrupted, "Why swords?"

"These aren't just any swords. On the blades are inscriptions from an ancient incantation book. All warriors have one, as will our Great Warrior Child," Nathanael explained.

"Ah, just make sure there's not a scratch on my child when you're done training today," she demanded.

"These swords will kill only those who have sided with Evil, mortal and immortal alike. As for her training sessions, keeping her scratch-free might be a little hard to do. If she were to get injured from training though, it would be the smallest of nicks or scrapes, and not from any of our swords. They can't harm us. And besides, Savior Mother, you are here to heal her," Kemuel reminded her.

"Well, I'm her mother first, and Mother says train safely, that's all. Oh, and her bedtime is nine now that school's over." She heard a groan come from the group of men. "Don't give me that nonsense. Even warriors need a good night's sleep." Kemuel shot a look at Michael. He returned a placating glance and assured Emma that her daughter would be fine. As the Warriors got down to training, the doorbell rang.

"That must be the rest of our teams."

As Emma answered the door, she was speechless. The men standing before her were as massive as the Warriors, with shoulders so wide they almost had to turn sideways to walk through the doorway. Each had a distinctive look and eyes reminiscent of precious jewels.

As they entered the foyer, squeezing into every available space, Emma pondered how they were all going to fit into her tiny ranch home. She had to laugh at that point. Was she really worrying about crowd control? Never mind about the part where her six-year-old would be leading grown men, immortals, into a life and death battle against Evil!
Chapter Thirteen

"Ms. Livingston, we are honored to be in your presence and in the presence of the Great Warrior Child. I am Raphael, Lead Savior, and this is Cassiel and Zadkiel, Saviors as well." They each nodded in turn, and she marveled at how they were so similar in stature and mannerism, yet each had their own individual style. From suit pants to jeans, dress shirts to T-shirts. Combined, they hurt her eyes with their handsomeness.

What's the deal with the formal treatment?

"Well, hello, and please call me Emma," she insisted. "We don't stand on ceremony around here." Raphael grabbed her hand in a firm handshake and frowned, releasing her hands as though he had touched something unpleasant. He turned to Michael and directed his comment to him.

"Listen, Ms. Livingston, Emma, is in seriously bad shape, as is this house. I've gotta take care of these things first before we're able to move forward with our plans. Gabriel has filled us in on everything so we won't be wasting time."

"What do you mean I'm in serious shape?" She looked back and forth between the two men. "I mean I know I've been getting some terrifying images swimming in my head, but Michael saw to that with this necklace. Right?" She held the talisman in her hands for all to see and stood tall before Raphael.

"The talisman I gave you dampens the effects of the terror Agremon planted inside you. It doesn't take it away. Raphael will see to that."

"And what's wrong with the house?"

"Well, what we're feeling is a dark energy, very strong. Without our shields to protect us, it would be like wading through a tar pit walking into your home. And like that muck, it is suffocating the life essence, the positive energies that exist in this home from all the people who've lived here before you, as well as you and your daughter. Once your home and you are cleansed, we can continue the training you've begun. I'm going to deal with the house first. That will allow our men to put their shields down. Michael, get everyone out of the house. You too, Emma. I must be alone in the house. And stand as far away as possible."

The two rounded up the men and joined Hannah and her Warriors out back. They all worked their way toward the line where landscaped precision met nature's design. As they watched the house, twilight descended with its exquisite hues of orange, red, purple and gold. Emma glanced at the Brethren who stood in silence and awe of such beauty, then turned back to face her home, wondering what exactly Raphael planned to do. Whatever it was, she hoped it helped.

A flash, like lightning, appeared from inside. And another. Suddenly, the ground under their feet vibrated and rumbled, and Hannah grabbed onto her mother's leg. The house visibly shook.

"Mama, are we having an earthquake?"

"I don't think so, sweetie." Emma picked up her frightened daughter.

"What's happening, Mama?" she asked in a hushed, high-pitched voice, and flung her arms around her neck like a vice.

"Don't worry, baby," she soothed, and rubbed her back. "Raphael, is taking all the bad feelings out of the house so we can be happy again." She hoped she was speaking the truth.

Michael walked over to her and reached for Emma's hand. She glanced up, surprised to see what she dared not ever hope for from any man—affection, in his eyes. She met it tentatively with a squeeze. Gently, she peeled Hannah away to stand between them.

The rumbling of the Earth had ceased, and flashes of light could no longer be seen. The back door opened, and Raphael appeared. He waved them back in, but then dropped his hand on his head and his jaw dropped. Michael and Emma looked at each other with concern, and then scanned the others' faces for anything that would explain Raphael's odd behavior. Their faces held perplexed expressions as well.

"What's going on? Are we being attacked?" she cried out. Michael grabbed her and Hannah and held onto them in a defensive maneuver.

"Brothers! What's going on?" he shouted. It was Urie who spoke up first.

"Brother, it's okay. We're all a bit taken aback right now, that's all. We didn't know."

"What the hell are you talking about, Urie?" he bristled.

Raphael had finally made his way over to the group of awed immortals. "Michael, we had no idea about this. Why didn't you tell us? This is most interesting. Most interesting indeed."

"All right, enough. What am I supposed to have an idea about that is most interesting?" Michael pressed, his anger simmering. "What gives?"

Gabriel stepped forward and spoke. "Relax. Guys, it's not his fault. He doesn't know. I thought he knew everything since he was dead on with identifying the Warrior Child and Savior Mother." He turned to Michael and continued. "You see, the prophecy we spoke of earlier, well, there is actually a bit more to it. The prophecy reveals that to defeat evil in this generation, it would require the powers of the Great Warrior child to fight against evil, the Great Savior Mother to save the many fallen victims, and the powers of the Great Protector to keep Evil away once defeated. The power of the Trinity—the Great Warrior Child, the Great Savior Mother, and the Great Protector, is what will allow Good to continue to reign over the world."

"Okay," Michael said. "But I still don't see why you're all looking at the three of us so strangely."

"The prophecy states that the Trinity would be made known when a pure white aura glows around the three chosen ones. Hannah's the Great Warrior Child. Emma here is the Great Savior Mother. And you, my brother, are the Great Protector." Gabriel gave him a shit-eating grin.

"Where the hell did you come up with that load of crap?"

What's the matter with him? Emma wondered. Why was this revelation pissing him off so much?

"You apparently can't see it, but there is an aura surrounding you, Emma, and Hannah that is undeniable. You three are the Trinity, for sure."

"What aura? What are you talking about?" asked Emma.

"Okay, so you're all holding hands. There's a pure white aura surrounding all three of you providing a sphere of protection right now. You can't see it, but we can, and it's nearly blinding. This is mighty incredible. Way to go, brother. Congratulations!"

All the Brethren stepped forward, offering hearty pats on the back, while Michael and Emma stood dazed and confused. Hannah peered back and forth between the two.

"Why are they congratulating? Are we going to be a family now, Mama? Huh? Are we?" Emma gawked at Michael. She was at a total loss for words. He came to the rescue.

"I consider all of my good friends my family, sweetie."

Snapped back to reality and the weight of her newfound purpose, Emma spoke, with an air of authority that felt unusually comfortable on her. "Well put, Michael. Raphael, I need you to fix me, now. We've got dinner to eat and work to do, and if there aren't any more surprises to be unleashed, I'd like to head on back to the house and get started." She softened, "Will you be with me while Raphael does whatever it is Raphael does to me?"

"Of course." He lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss it. "I won't leave your side. But if you'll excuse me, I need a couple minutes here alone with Gabriel." She was wary as he let go of her hand, but walked back to the house with Hannah in tow.

***

"Gabriel, wait!"

Gabriel turned around and walked back to Michael. "Hey, what's up?"

"This is messed up, man!" He paced back and forth like a caged tiger. Bending down, he picked up a dead branch from a Mesquite tree and started whacking away at some unruly shrubbery. "There's no way I could be the Great Protector, Gabriel. I couldn't even protect my own family, damn it! My own wife, my unborn child, I couldn't protect them. And now I'm supposed to be the Great Protector? It doesn't add up. It's got to be someone else. It's one thing to protect the mother and child right now, and something completely different to protect the world. I need to talk to the boss man right away. He's got to know this isn't right."

"What good's talking to E.L. going to do, Michael? He's our boss. You know we don't have a say in the tasks that are assigned to us. We can only make good choices along the way. He's got a plan, a reason for doing this to you and not to someone else. Trust E.L. He's never steered you wrong."

"Oh, really? So, disabling my alert system so Agremon could get to Beth wasn't wrong? I beg to disagree."

"You know how I felt about Beth and what happened. But don't you see? If that day never occurred, you wouldn't be here right now, assuming a role that will save this world from Evil. Michael, E.L. knows what he's doing. You're the best man for the job."

"Ha! That's a good one."

"You've already felt what's at stake here. You've had and lost. That's something none of us can say, and in this instance, that's not a plus. Come on, you don't have to think on it right now. Just keep doing what you're doing and I know it will grow on you."

"Yeah, yeah. I wish I had your confidence. Why don't you go on up to the house? I'll be there in a minute. Let me try and clear my head first."

"No problem." Gabriel offered him a hearty thump on the shoulder then started towards the house.

Michael watched as his friend climbed the stairs to the back porch, and then his gaze veered off into the forest.

Prophecy couldn't have dictated the deaths of his wife and child. Could it? For a Protector to be rendered helpless as he watched his family die was cruel and heartless. What must he have done in all his eternal years to have deserved to witness such a tragedy? How could he continue in his duty to Emma and Hannah knowing the failure that he truly was? Intentions were only as effective as the actions that backed them up. His actions haven't been living up to Brethren standards. And now to be called a Great Protector? Not possible!

He stood by the shrubs, inadequate, troubled, small.

He sensed Emma's presence behind him and turned. His breath caught as he watched her walk resolutely down the stairs, closing the distance between them. Her eyes fixed firmly on his. He could only imagine what she saw in them.

Pain maybe, anguish and guilt, for certain. In hers, he saw redemption.

He couldn't move, stayed by emotions long kept hidden away and suppressed. Emma stood before him, a petite yet strong woman, with a fragile yet fierce heart. He could bear it no longer. He needed to touch her, to absorb the latent power within her. He outstretched his arms in desperation and dropped to his knees, beseeching.

A small cry escaped her lips. She met him on the ground and simply embraced him. He held onto her as he had no other; not even Beth. Like she was his anchor in rough seas. The grief, the helplessness, the fear, and the fury poured out of him and into her. She gasped.

***

Emma succumbed to the depth and ferocity of emotions assaulting her heart. Michael held onto her as though he were drowning. His horror, his trauma, his eternal anguish seeped into every molecule of her brain. It was then, deep in her soul, that she knew she was the only one who could save him. And it was then that she decided she would.

A single tear managed to escape and trail down her cheek. "I know, Michael. You don't have to say anything. I know, and I'm so sorry. I'm here for you as you've been here for me. And I'm not going anywhere. Never doubt that," Emma professed with an intensity that surprised her.

She framed his face in her hands and gently brushed his lips with hers. It was the kind of kiss that demanded nothing and gave everything. And through this connection, Emma began healing his damaged heart with her powers. She could see tiny tears fighting to escape the corners of Michael's eyes and then dare to cascade down his cheeks. Emma released his lips to sip them away.

He cried out in agony, "Oh God, Emma! No! I can't let you do this for me. Not yet. You're damaged yourself." He pulled away from her and doubled over. She quickly reached out for him and again, he moved away.

"I'm well enough to do this. I must. You can't continue living with your pain and suffering like this. Let me finish what I've started. Come back to me, Michael, please. Come back to me. Let me save you. You've been suffering too long."

This time, when she beckoned, he let her hold him. She embraced him and stroked his hair ever so gently. As she sent a warm, soothing sensation through him, he began to heal. She didn't know how she knew what to do, as instinct had taken over. As she worked her healing arts on him, she sensed his pain ease and his grief release layer by layer. She tried to relieve his rage, his need for vengeance, but those threads were far too strong for her to touch with her emergent skills. After a few moments, he stood stronger and more confident.

"Emma," he murmured and found her lips once again. This time, the kiss did demand. He claimed her, body and soul, branding her so that no one could mistake his property. Her arms flew around his neck as she accepted his mark, and she deepened the assault. She never wanted to let go and held on even tighter, amazed at how perfectly they fit together, how spectacular their bodies blended into one. A thought flitted through her mind and stuck. He is the one. All is as it should be. Finally, she reined in her emotions long enough to release from his searing kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers.

They both clung to each other and breathed heavily as he spoke in a throaty voice, "I-I don't know what to say. You know, you know my suffering. And you're still here. You're, you're incredible." He feathered feverish caresses on her forehead. "But now, we've got to fix you. I won't stand for Agremon's terror being inside you for another minute. I'll be damned if I let anything happen to you li—" He choked on the words, but she knew where they were headed. "Okay, if we are to be this Trinity, as Gabriel is saying, we've got to be in top form." He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. As he pressed them into her palm, his gazed pierced through to her soul.

"I'm ready for our destiny, Emma. Are you?"

"Yes, Michael. I don't know, maybe it's my ancient ancestors speaking to me, but something tells me I should be. So with you, with Hannah, with the Brethren, I believe we can conquer Evil. We can do this."

Her hand remained in his as they walked back to the house with a new resolve. Raphael greeted them at the door. "Are you ready to be healed?"

"Yes, Raphael, I am. Is it going to hurt? What should I expect?" she asked tentatively. Her stomach lurched as she contemplated all sorts of bizarre treatments occurring.

"You'll feel a little lightheaded after I've removed Agremon's threads from your mind, but after that you'll be astounded by your heightened senses. I'd still wear Michael's talisman, though. You still need to be protected. I doubt Agremon will stop trying to get what he needs by any means possible."

"All right, then. Let's get on with it."

The three of them walked into the family room to find it loaded with the rest of the Brethren. The healing took place in her bedroom. As promised, her Protector was by her side for support. It really was as Raphael said it would be. When he placed his hand directly on her forehead, she immediately felt lightheaded and grabbed onto Michael. Then, Raphael waved his palm about an inch over her heart. Healing energy surged through her and eased her spirit.

The whole process only took about five minutes. And the difference in Emma's focus, her attitude, and the way she absorbed the world around her was immediate. Everything appeared so sharp and crystal clear. Colors were more vibrant, sounds that she hadn't heard before were audible. Smells were more intense. All was as expected, Raphael had assured her. All of her senses had been enhanced as her powers awakened. Agremon's hold on her mind had created a barrier that now no longer existed.

"Dinner's here!" shouted Hannah. As the trio came out of the bedroom, Hannah ran up to them and grabbed Emma's and Michael's hands. There was an immediate surge of energy and the place lit up like the Fourth of July.

"Whoa! Would everybody kindly let go, please. You're blinding us with your aura." Raphael shielded his eyes. They immediately let go of each other. "Now then, Michael, you're going to have to add a little something to those talisman necklaces Emma and the Warrior Child are wearing. Some kind of incantation that will allow you three to use your aura when needed and still shield the rest of us from the blinding light. Until you've got something, I suggest you don't hold hands at the same time, okay?"

"Sorry, brother." He chuckled. "I'll get to work on it right after we eat dinner. Let's go."

Dinner was remarkable in that it was completely unremarkable. Emma sat at the head with Michael to one side and Hannah on the other. The rest of the Brethren behaved like any other hungry bunch of men gathered around a table. They allowed themselves for the briefest of time to converse on all things mundane, like who their picks were for the World Series, and taunted each other over previous escapades gone awry. She could almost forget they were immortal. She scanned the table and thought, this is so...normal. But unfortunately she knew it was a façade, and it would soon fade.

Normal had gone on an extended vacation, and there were no signs of it returning anytime soon.
Chapter Fourteen

He loved the name, Superstition, and the fact that it was assigned to a mountain made it that much more dramatic. Namirha could play off the name and hook followers in a snap at the Homecoming on Sunday. The building of the Global Headquarters was proceeding right on schedule. He could think of no better way to celebrate than with the ritual binding to the child known as Hannah. She was his road to infinite glory and total domination of the world. Namirha looked out the window of his limo towards the mountain, towards the very top. When he ruled over the world, no longer would the mountain tops be reserved for the righteous. Oh no! They would be cast out and he would be exalted! Of course, he could always vacation in the depths of Hell. He did so enjoy it down there.

"Agremon!" Namirha roared. Agremon appeared instantly in the limo, and knelt before his Master. "Get up and report."

"Well, my Lord, I've hit a bit of a snag. I got the mother out of the way, but I believe the Brethren are now involved. I saw the Protector's talisman around the child's neck. With that shielding her, I couldn't get close. I shall find another way. The Protector, known as Michael, and I have history. I plan on using it to my advantage."

"You know, I'd like to help you. You've been so resourceful with keeping the followers in line. And I recognize how hard you've been working to get the child. Now, with the Brethren involved, things could get very, shall I say, uncomfortable for me and my minions. So, let me do this for you. Let me remind you what is in store for you should you fail me in this monumental task." With a wave of his hand, Namirha delivered a blow that slashed through Agremon's midsection. His organs slowly oozed out onto his lap while he looked on in horror.

"What's the matter? Why are you so shocked? You know you won't die. No, I wouldn't do that to you. But can you imagine the rest of your eternity living through this over and over again? How about I add a little bit of this as well?" He waved his hand again and Agremon's skin tore away from his body, leaving muscle and sinew exposed to the air. He shrieked in abject agony. With another wave of his hand, Namirha returned Agremon's body to its original state. "What do you think? You bring me the child, or spend the rest of eternity reliving these past few moments over and over again."

Breathless from the pain of torture, Agremon spoke through gritted teeth. "I will get the child, my Lord. And I will see the Protector pays for my pain and labors."

"You are to do no such thing. We are not ready to do battle with the Brethren. After the homecoming we will need to train the new followers. If there is a battle to be fought, it shall happen after the blood ritual with the child. I can't have anything disrupt my plan. You are not to engage the Brethren, yet. Do you understand, Agremon?"

"Yes, my Lord. I understand. But understand this, if I can't touch the Brethren, and they have the child, you may miss your only chance to rule this world."

"Find a way to get the child here. Mark my words, I will rule over this world, and no Brethren or sorry excuse for a fallen angel will stop me." Namirha pointed a bony finger and zapped him out of the limo. Where he zapped him to, he had no clue, nor did he care.

***

Agremon spat on the dusty ground, right outside the worship center. Nearly foaming at the mouth from anger, he went on a rampage through the followers' tents. Someone had to be asleep. All he needed was one, just one to terrorize and release his anger upon. He stalked through the rows and rows of tents, ruminating over his plans.

Michael, the Protector, would surely pay for this latest undressing by Namirha. He would see to it. The hell with waiting! Agremon the Terrible was done with all the thwarted attempts to get the child. He'd get her all right, but he was definitely going after Michael, too.

For now, someone was sleeping. Someone who wasn't a true believer yet, who needed to be scared into submission. Frightening a mortal, that would make him feel a whole lot better.
Chapter Fifteen

Dinner had been finished a long time ago. Michael added a sacred incantation to the talismans Emma and her daughter wore to dampen the brilliant aura the Trinity created, and Hannah was now up to her eyeballs in swordplay with her warriors. They had decided to start with sword fighting since she had shown such a proclivity towards it when they'd first met. Her mother could tell she was having the time of her life with these men. Such animation! More than she'd seen from her in the past six months.

The Brethren didn't treat her like a child, but rather, like one of their own. It was the strangest thing to see from an outsider's perspective, but to these men, these warriors, only Hannah's body was six years old. Her soul on the other hand, held the wisdom and the power of an ancient warrior. As she trained, little Hannah seemed to be pushed aside, allowing the Ancient Warrior soul out.

Her mother looked on in wonder as she observed the subtle transformation of her baby girl into the ancient warrior. She could scarcely imagine what it must be like to be an ancient warrior's soul trapped in a little girl's body. To even acknowledge that such a thing could occur boggled her mind. Yet here she stood, watching her daughter deftly swing a sword as though it was a natural extension of her arm. But Hannah still _was_ that little girl, and her bedtime had drawn near.

"Gentlemen, it's time for our little warrior to go to bed now. Tomorrow's another day, and she needs her rest." Emma signaled for Hannah to drop the sword and head inside.

"Hannah has shown great talent for the sword," Kemuel reported. "Tomorrow, we will work on her mind. Good night, Great Warrior Child. Sleep well."

"Oh, I will, Kemuel. I've got a magic necklace to help me," she boasted with a huge grin.

"Why you've got Michael's special talisman. It is certain you will have a peaceful rest."

"Let Agremon try to get to me tonight. Why, I'll—I'll..." she stammered.

"Okay, kiddo. Let's head on in. No more thinking about the A-man before bed. Thank you for taking good care of her during training. I don't see a scratch on her at all. But I do see a couple of scrapes on you, Kemuel," Emma observed, scrutinizing his arms and chest. "I must say, I'm rather amused. Looks like my little girl kicked your butt."

"As I said, she has shown quite a talent for the sword and fighting," Kemuel replied flatly.

"Yes, well, we'll just go on in then. You should have Raphael take a look at those." She took her daughter by the hand and went into the house.

"I got him real good a couple times, Mama, real good," Hannah gushed.

"I'm so proud of you, honey, I think." Was this really something to be proud of? She hadn't a clue. Emma approached Hannah's bedtime for the first time in months with ease. After all, they both wore Michael's talisman now, and they had a houseful of angels. It couldn't get more secure than that.

***

Emma walked back into the family room where the Brethren now congregated. "So what's next?"

"Well, we need to start planning our offense. We're going to infiltrate the Homecoming gathering on Sunday to get close to Agremon and Namirha. Since they're looking to increase their flock, I think we're in a great position to be counted as one of them. Make sure you're all wearing biker clothes. We'll no doubt draw some attention, but if we appear as bikers, our size shouldn't be a problem. There are about five hundred followers already camped out on the site, so we could easily blend in with our own tents."

"That's fine, Kemuel, as long as Hannah isn't counted amongst them. You'll have to go over my dead body to take her anywhere near that encampment."

"Don't worry. You, Michael, and she will be staying right here," Raphael interjected. "The positive energy flowing through this house is enhancing the speed of your success at training. Do you know anything about this house, the land that it's on?"

"Only that it belonged to my mother. I inherited it after she passed away."

"There's something special going on here," Gabriel chimed in. "If I may?"

"Go ahead, Gabriel. You're the master of intelligence," Raphael proclaimed.

"Well, your house and the land it sits on are part of a large energy vortex. Have you heard of those before? Since you live here in Arizona, I would think you have."

"Yes, I know a little. Great spiritual energy flows down certain magnetic lines. There are many supposedly in Sedona."

"Correct, and one of the strongest lines flows southward, right through your property. It's enhancing both of your powers many times over. So, Raphael will train you tomorrow, Kemuel and the gang will work with Hannah some more, and Michael will work on protecting this place like Fort Knox. As for me, I'll go back to my computers and get the latest information on our resident evil man.

I'm actually going to head out now." Gabriel got up then and headed for the door, opened it, and walked right out without so much as a wave or a goodbye.

"Abrupt bugger, isn't he?" she commented.

"Yep, that's Gabriel for you," Michael replied. "Doesn't like goodbyes all that much."

"Well now, that leaves eight of you to battle it out for the couches, chairs, and floor tonight. I'm sorry my place isn't bigger."

"Don't worry about us. We won't be sleeping," Raphael said. "We'll be standing guard around the perimeter of your property through the night."

"You can't possibly think you can stay up all night and then train all day. You're mad!"

"Emma, we never sleep," Raphael answered simply. "We're angels."

"Oh, right, what was I thinking?" she responded, feeling like a total fool. But really who knew angels didn't sleep? It's not like someone would have an opportunity to question an angel regarding their sleeping habits.

"I'll be staying in the house, if that's okay with you, for extra protection," Michael offered.

"Yes, that would be great, actually. I know we have the talismans to wear, and I haven't had any more trips down terror lane since Raphael cleansed me, but still, I would feel much better."

She looked at him. He looked at her. She knew it was the lamest excuse in history and ventured that he was thinking the same. But she wasn't going to admit it, especially not with the other Brethren in the room. With handshakes and good nights spoken, the Brethren made their way out the door. Emma and Michael watched them through the kitchen window as they faded into the night, and were now alone, left to deal with the impact of the day's events and raw emotions. So much had happened in so little time that it left her dizzy.

"So, can I get you a cup of coffee or something?" Emma finally asked, her voice near breathless from the deafening silence that had grown between them.

"Or something," Michael replied, as he gathered her up in an embrace that took the rest of her breath away. His eyes hypnotized her with their deep oceans of blue and gold. And then, he kissed her. Oh so gently at first, nibbling at her bottom lip, masterfully parting her lips so he could enter and taste her. Then he slowly raised the temperature to blistering.

At first, her arms hung limply at her sides. But as his seduction deepened, she found her footing again, and her hands slid up his arms, then caressed Michael's back and shoulders. She couldn't seem to get enough of him as she fought with his tucked-in shirt. But, at last she won the battle. Touching his smooth skin, his taut muscles clenched with every brush of her fingers. He lifted her off the floor, never once breaking their kiss, and she was surprised to find herself planted on the countertop.

"Oh God, Emma, do you know what you've been doing to me?" he growled. "Driving me crazy, woman. That's what." His lips left a feverish trail from her jaw line down her neck. "I need more of you, Emma. So much more."

Emma cupped his face and gazed at him, his expression blurred by her own desire. She turned her back on her misgivings. "My bedroom, Michael, take me there, now." She could barely speak anymore, let alone think. He swung her up in his arms, never taking his focus off of her, and made his way to her bedroom.

He closed the door with his foot, and proceeded to lay her on the bed. Michael stood motionless.

Unwilling to let his uncertainty take over, Emma rose to her knees and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. What she revealed was every woman's fantasy, and yet he was here, with eyes and a body only for her. Muscles strained from the sexual tension and showed off their sculpted beauty. Emma couldn't stop herself. She leisurely ran her hands up and down his hard stomach and chest, teasing his taut nipples.

Michael brought her face up to meet his and ravaged her mouth with a kiss so deadly Emma thought she might never recover. As he eased back, he ripped off her shirt.

***

Emma hadn't worn a bra, and he'd known that all damn day. But finally, he was going to see and touch and taste what he'd been craving so desperately. _I_ _can't believe I'm finally standing here in front of the most beautiful woman I've ever known. Six years! Six years I've dreamed of this moment. And now, she wants me, too._

"You're so beautiful, Emma, so damn beautiful. And I've wanted you for so very long." He reached out to hold her to him, skin to skin. Flames shot through his body from head to toe.

"Make love to me, Michael," she pleaded and then, merely whispered, "I need you so much it hurts."

No more words were necessary as he took her then and there. This was no unhurried, rainy Sunday morning kind of lovemaking. It was frantic. It was feral. It was his hands and mouth in a frenetic quest to explore every inch of her, and both of them in a heated battle to become one. They tussled on the bed, then tumbled onto the floor in a tangled heap of sweaty legs and arms. He crawled after her like a hungry wolf on the prowl as she moved back onto the mess of sheets above them.

Emma's reactive body pushed him to the brink of madness, and her hair. Oh, her hair! Just as he'd fantasized so many times. When she hovered above him, it brushed against his stomach and chest, sending shockwaves and tremors rippling across his skin. As he climaxed, Michael groaned in ecstasy and wings sprouted from his shoulder blades; large, snowy white, iridescent wings that reached from his shoulders down to his feet.

"Oh God, no!" he moaned. He looked at Emma with utter dread and tore away from her before she could say anything. He jumped off the bed, but didn't know where to go, so he staggered his way to the farthest, darkest corner of the room, turning his back to hide his humiliation. Through the blood shushing through his ears, he heard sheets rustling. He prayed Emma would leave the room and let him collect himself. Instead, the wooden creak of the floorboards told of her approach.

"What's wrong, Michael? Have I done something wrong?"

A gentle stroke of his feathers sent him reeling. His breath hitched. The stroking immediately stopped.

"I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"No. It—it feels so good, you touching my wings. I'm sorry. It's not you. It's me. I should have controlled myself better back there."

"What on earth do you mean? Michael, explain to me why you've sent yourself to the corner like an errant schoolboy."

"You're probably so sickened by the sight of me right now. I'm an abomination. Give me a little time...to hide my wings. Can you turn away? Don't look at me and don't say anything, please. I'll get myself together and go stand watch with the others. No one has to be the wiser." Damn it all! Why couldn't he keep his wings under wraps this time? He'd been able to so many times before.

"Oh Michael, I'm the farthest thing from sickened a person can be. You're an angel, for heaven's sake! You're supposed to have wings. Where are you getting this crazy notion that you're an abomination and that I'd be sickened by them?"

"I learned early in my immortal life that showing my wings unfortunately never produces the desired effect of awe and peace in you humans. In the past, they've left the women who supposedly loved me shocked and repulsed. I never showed them to Beth. She never knew I was an angel."

Emma stroked his wings again ever so gently. He turned around, in all of his naked glory, and saw fire smoldering from deep behind her eyes. Because of their threaded connection, he could sense that a yearning had taken hold of her like none she'd ever experienced before. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "This human thinks they're beautiful. You're beautiful, and truly the answer to my prayers. And now, we're together. I'm yours and you're mine. Never mind the women in your past. I'm your present. Come back to bed with me." She caressed his cheek. "Stay with me, make love to me again, my angel."

Her words soothed him. He delved deeper into her thoughts looking for assurances that what she said was true. Over the thousands of years he'd been manifested, here was the first time he could believe. He could trust. She would accept him for all that he was. Physically perfect, yet emotionally damaged.

Michael drew her to him, held her close, and he floated them across the floor back to the bed. And as he laid them both down, his wings encircled them like a cocoon. He made love to her as though it was their first time, only now, he didn't rush. He languished in the floral scent that was uniquely hers, and luxuriated in her well-toned body sliding sensuously over his. She gazed at him with smoldering eyes as he explored every inch of her and tasted every morsel of her. She writhed rapturously beneath him, and when they came together as one, she cried out his name. He was convinced he knew her better than she even knew herself.

"I think I love you, Michael," she sighed as she drifted off to sleep.

"God knows, I love you, Emma." He placed a light kiss on her temple and whispered against her ear. "I've never known before the rapture a simple touch could bring or the joy of sharing all that I am with another whose heart is kind and true. You've brought these gifts to me. You've awakened the man inside the angel."

Chapter Sixteen

Before the sun rose, he reluctantly left Emma's bed so he could slip into the guestroom, lest Hannah wake too soon and catch him in her mother's bedroom. He didn't think this was the time to have to explain their relationship.

"Hey there, where're you going?" A drowsy voice murmured from behind him as he reached the door.

Michael walked back to the bed and knelt next to her lying in naked perfection. He couldn't help but weave his fingers delicately through her sleek, black hair and place a whisper of a kiss on her lips. "Emma, honey, the sun will be up soon. I didn't think you'd want your daughter to wake up and possibly find us in bed together. I'll go into the guestroom so she won't have a clue. It's okay."

"I hadn't actually thought about it. I've been a bit distracted, you know." She had a gleam in her eyes. "Michael, we're fine. She loves you. You're one of her favorite people. She wouldn't think unkindly of you just because she may see you walk out of my room this morning. In fact, I'll bet you she'd do her little happy dance if she found us both in here when she wakes up this morning. Put on your boxers, and I'll put on a nightgown. Then we'll be ready for her. And until she comes in, which I'm sure she'll come in, we can—talk."

"We can talk, huh? Okay then." He stepped awkwardly into his boxers while watching Emma float a nightgown over her head. "We can talk about how I love your sexy body and the way it responds to my slightest touch." He pounced on her and she let out a sigh as his hands took a lazy sojourn over her body. His eyes captured hers which held a look of possessiveness. "We can talk about how you set my body on fire to the point of madness, and how you soothe my spirit and heal the damaged parts of my soul."

Emma responded with a kiss so sweet and complete he'd forgotten to breathe. "God, Michael! Nobody has ever said anything quite so romantic to me before. And certainly, no one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel." She leaned up on an elbow, bit her bottom lip, and continued. "You know, after Ron, my ex, left us high and dry for my best friend, I didn't think I could trust or feel this way about any man ever again. But you're not just any man, are you?"

"No, I'm certainly not," he agreed with sincerity.

She rested her head back down on his chest and her arm on his stomach. Michael could feel tension working its way through her shoulders, so he began massaging them lightly.

"Truth be told, it scares me to trust again. It scares me a lot. And then there's this whole Trinity business and our lives on the line to save the world. I'm not sure what the hell's going to happen there. And the little matter of you being immortal and I'm—well, I don't know what on earth I am. Honestly, Michael, regardless of how we feel about each other, I don't know how this can ultimately work out."

Pausing, she lifted her head and gave him a solemn look. "What I do know, and I'm telling you straight out I'm taking a big risk saying this to you, so you better not screw around with my heart; even with those doubts, I find you're everything I want and need in a partner, a lover, and as a part of my family. As you've seen, I can be pretty protective and possessive about my family."

"My, but you've been busy thinking in the few minutes you've been awake. And I kinda like the cavewoman side of you. A man like me could get used to being your possession."

Emma ensnared his lips with hers for a quick demonstration of the cavewoman she could be. Michael laughed and responded with his best caveman impersonation. He tangled her hair around his hands to pull her nose to nose with him and grunted. Then, he eased his hands out of her hair.

"Listen, in all seriousness, your ex-husband and your ex-best friend are assholes, and they'll get what's coming to them eventually. You shouldn't have let them have this kind of power over you for so long." She nodded in agreement and turned away. "As for us, I know we'll work it out. I'm going to take a big risk here myself. Look at me." He gently caressed her cheek as he turned her back to face him. "I gotta tell you, I can't imagine being without you. There's no way I'll let anything come between me, you, and Hannah. Not my immortality, not Agremon, not a chance in Hell."

"Speaking of Hell and Agremon," she pointed out, sitting up a bit. "Tell me more about him. I'm curious. What made him turn away from the Brethren?" Michael shifted himself to sit by her side. He gathered her closely to him while he spoke. "Well, Agremon was a Savior, originally, but he was never satisfied with those powers. He saw the warriors as the ultimate immortal and became extremely jealous of their gifts, so much so that he began spending most of his time on a quest to acquire those gifts as well.

"E.L., our boss, wasn't happy at all. Every group has its own gifts and no one is allowed to have more. It's like checks and balances, you know? Well, the boss man had a big sit down with everyone, including Agremon, and laid down the law again for all to hear. Agremon protested, got really angry, and stormed out, cursing E.L. and the rest of us as he left. He said he'd find a way to gain all of our powers and damned us all to Hell.

"You can imagine how quickly Satan got wind of that and took him immediately into his service. He's been working for him ever since. His appearance has changed since working with The Brethren. He once looked as we do, tall and formidable, and not too shabby in the looks department," he bragged with a toothy grin. "As you can bear witness to, what he looks like now only mirrors the evil that lives inside him. And as you've seen, he's acquired incredible power, as well. One thing he hasn't got is a Protector's powers. And I know it pisses him off in the biggest way. I don't know the why of it. He can't break through our Protectors' shields. Only if...." He stopped himself.

"Only if someone has deadened your abilities to sense him, right?" Emma offered.

"Yeah, well, Gabriel tried to explain why E.L. did that to me. I'm not ready to accept that explanation yet, but it doesn't matter much now, does it? What's done is done, I am what E.L. needs me to be, and Agremon will pay for what he's done to me and my family, eventually. I imagine Namirha probably is getting good and aggravated with him now, since he hasn't been able to deliver Hannah to him. That could make Agremon so nervous and frustrated that he begins making mistakes. That's all I need is one simple mistake on his part and he's null and void in the history books."

"But how can you do that? He's immortal like you, right? I thought immortal meant living forever."

"Yes, he's immortal, too, and we can live virtually forever; however, there is a way to kill us, for good. Since I am a Protector, I was given the key to that knowledge." He paused. Something occurred to him. He sat up. "You know, I always wondered why E.L. didn't give the key to Gabriel and Urie, too. I'd thought maybe he didn't feel they were ready yet. But now that I'm supposed to be this 'Great Protector', it makes sense somehow that they don't know. I am the ultimate Protector, and I alone hold the key to life or death for the Brethren. Lord Almighty, he really socked it to me, didn't he!" He shook his head in disbelief, and worried the whiskers on his cheeks with his hands.

Emma sat up as well, faced him squarely, and took his hands in hers.

"It is quite an awesome responsibility, Michael, I agree. But I have confidence in your abilities. I've known you for six years, and you've been a phenomenal principal, always making right choices, the hard choices, for the good of the school community. I've no doubt you can handle this, too." She turned toward the window. "Hey, look. The sun is rising."

She rose from the bed and walked to the enormous picture window that looked out onto the mountains. He followed behind her, and surrounded her with his embrace. They stood together in silence for a few prized moments. "It's stunning, isn't it, the way the sunrise makes the mountains appear different minute by minute? I never get tired of watching it change its hue. I hope the guys are able to take it all in, as well. It's a strong reminder that hope, faith, and goodness still prevail in this world."

"I couldn't have said it better myself. I do believe you were meant to be one of us. I think it'll be good to have a mother around all these men, you know."

"Please don't tell me I'm the Brethren's 'Wendy', like in Peter Pan. I don't think I could handle being a mother of nine 'boys' who want bedtime stories!"

"The only one you'll be telling bedtime stories to is me!" Michael asserted and started covering her throat with kisses. She squealed, and he found her chin, then her lips. She turned into him, the playfulness forgotten, replaced by his growing need. But that need was going to have to wait. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other Brethren beginning to make their way back to the house from all corners of the property.

He reluctantly stepped back from her and simply pointed out the window when she gave him a puzzled look. She pouted when she saw the men coming. She turned back to him and sighed.

"Reality sure has a funny way of interrupting a really good dream," she contemplated.

He wrapped his arms around her again. His lips pressed against her hair. "This isn't a dream, Emma. What we have is real, what's happening to us is real. Prophecy dictates it so. Lucky for you, I like ya a lot."

"Oh, really? Well you're lucky I like you a lot, too," she retorted and nipped his chin with her teeth, then soothed it with her tongue. "I guess we should wake up Hannah. I almost hate to since she hasn't slept this long in months. But I know we have a busy day ahead of us. Duty calls. Let's go wake her up together."

They quickly washed and dressed, then went to her room. Nothing could have prepared them for what greeted them as they entered. Rather than still sleeping as Emma had thought, Hannah was up, dressed, and at her play table, drawing fiercely on a tablet of paper with her crayons. Her face had taken on a much more intense and mature look. She finished the drawing, tore it away from the tablet, and tossed it vigorously to the floor, to join the dozens of other pictures littering her carpet and bed. All the pictures were of monsters and demons. Sometimes they were lined up like army platoons at the base of a mountain range, the Superstition Mountains to be exact. Some of the pictures were of those very platoons setting fire to the towns around the mountains.

Hannah was so absorbed in what she was doing that she didn't stir when the two entered her room. Michael picked up her drawings to get a closer look. Emma peered over his shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. He touched her hand and sent waves of comfort to ease her mind. The drawings he held were frighteningly explicit and detailed, with people drawn as though they were on fire, running from houses and buildings that were already ablaze. In another set of pictures, she saw the Brethren warriors, dressed in black leather pants and wings unfurled, fighting against creatures that were half human-half demon in appearance. He picked up a final set of pictures where the Brethren were losing the battle against these creatures. Angels were lying on a battlefield of sorts, their bodies sluiced open and their innards oozing out onto the ground.

Emma spotted one last picture peeking out from under Hannah's bed. This picture disturbed her most of all. She had drawn Namirha standing imperiously over an altar, with his arms in the air, holding a bejeweled knife with its blade pointed down over a body. Not just any body, Hannah's body, lying on the altar, like a sacrificial offering. A woman was drawn at the base of the altar reaching up in futility to stop the sacrifice. She had drawn her mouth open as if she were screaming. A man, an angel, had also been drawn lying face down next to the woman, his back bloodied. Beside him was one bloodied wing. The other was being held by none other than Agremon. He had been drawn with the wing in his hands, plucking off the feathers and an evil, triumphant grin on his ghastly face.

Emma was clearly distraught by what she'd seen, but before she could get her daughter's attention, Michael drew her out of the room and into the hallway. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand and sent energy currents down the threaded connection they had forged during the night.

"Listen, Emma, I know this is very disturbing. But, it's also great news. Hannah has tapped into her powers of intuition and is seeing into Namirha's plans."

"Tell me it's not the future we're looking at here."

"I can only say that it is one of many possible outcomes of plans being made by Namirha. Today, we're going to make sure the warriors work on honing her skills. Her pictures are great, but we need specific details on the plans he means to carry out on his ultimate mission. This is very encouraging, however disturbing it may be."

"It's frightening, you know? It's horrifyingly frightening that this could be what's ahead for all of us."

"That's why we're here, honey, to make sure those pictures don't come to fruition. If you're ready, put your best smile on and let's say good morning to your daughter." She secured a wary grin on her face and nodded.

They walked back into the room, and Hannah instantly turned around in her seat with a smile of her own and stood up. Her face had returned to her normal cherubic glow of a child.

"Good morning, Mama!" She jumped up into Emma's arms to give her a hearty hug and kiss. She leaned over toward Michael, so he took her into his arms. She gave him a hearty hug and kiss as well. Then she wriggled out of his hands and started gathering up the pictures. "These pictures are scary, Mama, so if you don't want to look, that's okay. I'll put them away until later."

Emma tried her best to stifle her laughter. "That's okay, honey. I think I can handle it. Why don't you tell us about them over breakfast?"

"Okay. But it's a scary story, too. I just wanted you to know."

As they made their way to the kitchen, the Brethren were coming in from their overnight watch. They were loud, they were brash, they were hungry, and their very presence filled up every ounce of space available. One might be claustrophobic at such a time, but not Emma. She was safe, secure, and comfortable. As the men washed up and changed clothes, she and Michael got breakfast ready. Hannah fiddled with her pictures. It looked to Emma as though she was putting them in some kind of sequence. When the men returned, they immediately saw the pictures and abandoned the bountiful breakfast. They swept her off to the family room where they could lay the pictures out on the floor. Michael and Emma quickly followed behind.

Kemuel spoke first. "Hannah, please tell us about these pictures, and how you came to draw them." She walked over to him and sat down on his lap. She had taken him by surprise and he gave an awkward cough. It didn't seem to faze her in the least to think him a good seat to sit on. She started playing with his eyebrows, raising and lowering them, then moved to playing with his cheeks. He frowned at her and she beamed back, molding his frown into a toothy grin and other silly gestures.

"Well, I woke up this morning and felt like I really wanted to draw something. I got washed and dressed, like a big girl, too, and I took out my crayons and paper and started drawing. The funny thing is, when I started drawing, pictures came into my head like a movie. I started drawing like I never did before." She paused and got off of Kemuel's lap.

As she walked away and paced the room, her stance changed. She appeared different from the Hannah of only moments ago. And as she spoke, her voice had become deeper, more mature. The Ancient Warrior's soul had somehow come forth.

"Kemuel, Michael, all of you. These pictures are what Namirha has planned. He has amassed an army of monumental proportions. Demons, monsters, and mortals are assembling to do his bidding. The Homecoming tomorrow is a smoke and mirror ploy to gather his mortal flock. By the sixth of June, all will have arrived at The Source's headquarters waiting to descend upon the surrounding towns, including Prophet's Point. The pictures show his intentions to destroy the towns and their people who have not been turned. He intends to destroy the Brethren, as well, rendering the rest of the mortal world completely vulnerable to his desires and at his mercy."

"You left out the fact that he also plans to gain your powers by killing you on his altar. He had no plans to keep you alive as his surrogate daughter," Michael fumed.

"Then we go ahead with our plan to infiltrate The Source tomorrow."

"No Kemuel," the Ancient Warrior countered. Kemuel raised a quizzical brow. "Your plan will not work as it is, not without Michael, my mother, and me going along with you."

"What are you talking about?" Emma stepped forward, looking not at all pleased with her daughter.

"I need to be with my warriors, Mother, to fight. The Protectors need to be close, to provide shielding, and you and the rest of the Saviors will be needed for healing. If we're going on the offensive, then we all need to go, together. It's Prophecy, and it's the way we'll win."

"Michael, what do you think?" she asked. "Can you shield her enough so that Agremon and Namirha can't detect her? Because that's the only way I would even contemplate letting her go, Prophecy or not."

"Well, we can shield her, no problem."

"But do we really want to? What I mean is if Namirha wants her, maybe that's how we can draw him to us, by letting him know she's there."

"I hate to say it, Kemuel, but you've got a great point. As much as I don't want Hannah exposed, maybe by doing so will flesh him out." Michael took a moment to contemplate options. "We can shield her at will, so we'll start out with her shielded and when it suits us, when we're ready, we'll drop them."

"Don't worry, Emma," Gabriel said, reaching out and patting her hand. "She will be well protected. Brethren, tomorrow, when we go, no doubt we're going to find that the followers are under some kind of mind control. Let it be until after we've settled in. Then, Saviors and Protectors, you can go around tent by tent healing and helping the people leave safely. The fewer mortals we have to fight in the end, the better. Mind you, when we're actually there, we'll have a better feel for what needs to be done. Be ready to change plans at a moment's notice. Warriors, you will guard the Ancient Warrior."

"Agreed," the rest of the Brethren concurred. Meeting adjourned, they all made their way to the kitchen to eat a breakfast of eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast, and coffee. Now the only one without an appetite was Emma. She took her coffee mug and went out on the back porch. Hannah followed.

"Mother?" Hannah called. She still had that maturity to her voice, and as she walked towards Emma, her stance was that of a great warrior, not of a little girl. As she got closer, right before Emma's eyes, she changed back into the daughter that had jumped into her arms just a short while ago. "Mama?"

Emma grabbed her into a fierce hug, then pulled back to take her all in. "For a moment I thought you'd outgrown that name for me. I don't think I could have handled that, sweetie. No matter what you evolve into during this time with the Brethren, you need to know that I am always your Mama. No matter if you're an ancient soul or a very young one; I will always answer to 'Mama' and come running."

"Oh, Mama!" Hannah hugged her tightly and for a moment, looked at a loss. Then, she gained her footing again. "I need to try and explain what I'm feeling, because I _am_ changing. It's a little scary. I feel like the little me is sometimes being pushed into a corner or box while the big me takes over for the warrior stuff. I don't really mind, for now, because I'm a lot stronger when the big me is out. I really want Agremon and Namirha to go away forever, and the big me can make that happen. I'm afraid the little me is going to be put in the corner for a long while when we go to the headquarters tomorrow. But Mama, when this is over, I want the little me back all the time. I hope I don't forget who the little me is."

"I won't let you forget, then," Emma pledged with a strained smile, and fought back the tears that threatened to expose her own fears. She put one hand over her heart and one over Hannah's. "I promise I'll make sure you come back to me, the way you want to be."

It was a promise Emma hadn't the slightest idea how to keep, but one she was determined not to break.
Chapter Seventeen

The heat of the Arizona summer came on early and strong. By mid-morning, the warriors were drenched from training with swords and mixed martial arts, and had come inside to tackle the training of Hannah's mind. Raphael and the other Saviors worked with Emma at the intermediate level of their healing arts, and then she practiced the meditation required to help her call upon her powers at will.

Michael, Gabriel, and Urie required a more intense meditative session. They needed to be in perfect condition, and meditation enabled them to check, repair, and enhance their powers. Eventually all the Brethren would need to go through the same process. Manifesting and staying in human form had one drawback, the necessity to monitor and keep their corporeal bodies working in synch with their immortal powers. When facing battle, meditating was crucial to keeping both in harmony. Luckily though, while in human form, their bodies were impervious to injury. That is, any injury that could be inflicted by a human. The Brethren could still be injured by other immortal beings like themselves. So, Michael created more protective talismans for everyone.

The only time anyone stopped during the day was when Emma pushed to eat lunch and dinner. Everyone knew better than to go against the Great Savior Mother, so they dutifully congregated around the kitchen table to feed their bellies while the rest of the day focused on training and feeding their souls.

***

Further on down the road, other plans were being perfected. The Source's Homecoming event was tomorrow, and Namirha knew this would be the last and strongest push to fortify his minions for the ultimate battle that lay ahead. Everything seemed ready. The tents were erected, the brochures printed, and the scripts memorized by his elite group of followers, known as the Inner Sanctum. Nothing more need be done except...securing Hannah Livingston away from her mother.

Namirha ranted in his limousine, leaving his driver trembling in the front seat. "Imbecile! Good-for-nothing son-of-bitch! I should have known better than to trust the former Brethren. I bet he's been deceiving me all this time, making me think he's one of mine, but really still working for them. Agremon!"

Agremon's grotesque body immediately appeared on the seat across from him. "Yes, my lord?"

"Agremon, I've determined that your usefulness to me has ended. Since you've failed at bringing the girl to me, you will now reside in my home's dungeon, having your skin torn away from your body and reattached at regular intervals for the rest of eternity. Now, don't get all mushy on me. I know it's not every day I let people stay in my home, but given all you've done for me over the years, I figured you're a special case."

Agremon pleaded for his immortal life. "My lord, you can't do this to me! I am so close to finding a way around the protective shield. I know I can get her to you before Thursday. Trust me!"

"Enough! I can't afford to trust you any further, you sniveling idiot. Be gone!" With a wave of his hand, Agremon disappeared from the limo, and reappeared in a dank, dark cell, within the home Namirha had made out of an abandoned mine deep in the Goldfield Mountains. His wrists were chained to the ceiling, his feet chained to the floor. The air was cool around him, and the walls dripped with a coppery, noxious liquid that made him gag. As the flaying began, he screamed, "You will die by my hands alone, Michael! I will find a way out of here, and you will surely die!"

Agremon's roar echoed throughout the chamber each time his skin ripped away from muscle, and when it reappeared moments later, giving him a few minutes to recover, his mind conjured up bits and pieces of a plan to escape Namirha's wrath and exact revenge on Michael. After countless flayings, he began to revel in the pain. Every time a piece of him was torn away, it strengthened his determination to get out and exact his revenge.

After what felt like hours, he learned to steel himself against the incessant pain and entered particular followers' minds; those whose minds were open to his suggestion. He called to them. One answered right away. One in particular who had been doing his bidding for a while now, Jared Sikes.

Jared, a lost soul until found about six months back, near death from shooting up heroin outside one of The Source's mess halls. When he was brought to Agremon's attention, he could see Jared was one of your basic losers, but he could also discern that with the right guidance and incentive, the degenerate could be turned into the perfect grunt. After stroking his self-esteem and feeding his addiction, Agremon gave him small jobs to do.

So, he called to him now, and with what little energy he had left, flashed Jared away from the headquarters and straight to his cell. Yes, Jared always kept his mind open to him, and today obeyed like a good lamb. Little did he know, his latest assignment would be to replace Agremon as Namirha's tortured plaything. _That's exactly what grunt work entailed sometimes, true? True._

Jared approached him, pupils dilated.

"What is it you would have me do, Master?" He spoke with reverence. "I shall obey."

"Come here, my brother, quickly!" He shouted impatiently. "Come stand before me and rest your hands on my hands. I need comfort. I am wrongly accused of a misdeed, and as you can see, am awaiting judgment locked in this cell."

"Anything you say. Will I be rewarded for this deed I do for you?" He licked his dry, cracked lips in anticipation of a quick fix.

"Oh yes, indeed, you shall. Now come, fast, before I lose all sense of reason and completely break down."

Jared lumbered forward. His stringy blond hair fell like a ripped curtain across his pock-ridden face. He flicked it back and laced his hands with Agremon's. He, in turn, tightened his grip and spoke in a hushed voice, "I am you and you are me."

The clueless man gasped as his soul left his body and floated above the two of them. Standing there, unable to do anything else, his bag of bones waited for repossession. Agremon's damned soul released and floated as well, and as the two souls passed in the air, Jared could hear triumphant laughter. The transfer complete, he found his soul bound not only by the demon he was forced to possess, but by the shackles that secured him in the cell.

"What have you done?" He cried out, wrenching his arms against their bindings. Agremon, now in possession of Jared's body immediately drew back his hands.

"What's the problem, Jared? When I called, you came. You told me you'd do anything. Well, I need to get the hell out of here, so you're taking my place, naturally. Now, I gotta run, so sorry buddy. Sometimes you get the shit end of the stick."

"You're coming back, right?" Jared shouted crazily. "You're gonna switch me back, right? What about my reward?"

"Don't worry, I'll be back. You've got an expiration date. Don't think I want to get stuck in a rotting vessel. No, I'll let you have all the fun. About that reward...." Agremon snickered. "You die." He laughed heartily as he watched with a gleam in his eyes the first flaying occur, and then he vanished.

***

Agremon approached the boundaries of Emma's property very carefully. He would stay on the outskirts until opportunity presented itself, then go inside and snatch the girl right from under the bastard angel's nose. Talisman, be damned! He itched to win this battle over Michael, just like he had done so many years ago. Rubbing salt in that wound would give him orgasmic pleasure. Hunkering down in the protection of the trees beyond the property line, he waited. He was a patient demon. He'd been patient for six months. He could be patient for a few hours more.

***

Emma, determined to keep as much normalcy for her daughter as possible, ushered everyone out back to witness the sun's spectacular descent. Given the monumental task set before them all in the next few days, no one spoke, but all looked at the ever-changing colors of the twilight sky.

"Remember, the sun also rises," Hannah whispered vehemently. "And we shall rise to this latest challenge and be victorious. Am I right, my Warriors?"

"Yes, Great Warrior Child!" The Warriors roared in response.

"We have a strong plan," Urie pointed out. "We have trained hard and as well as we could, given the lack of time. I am confident we can succeed."

"Well then, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Mother, Mama, will you tuck me in?" Hannah asked, and reached her hand out for her to hold. The intermittent switching of souls unnerved, but Emma smiled lovingly at her daughter nonetheless.

"Of course, sweetheart. Excuse me, gentlemen." She grabbed her daughter's hand and squeezed it as they walked back into the house.

***

The Brethren fanned out to the positions they had held the night before. Michael stayed out as well, just beyond the back porch. He couldn't help feeling hesitant about what was to come. Images of Beth and their unborn child swam through his head. They were innocents, not involved in the least with his duty, and he couldn't protect them from evil. Now, he had Emma and Hannah. He loved them as much, if not more. And they were headed to the frontline. He couldn't even begin to contemplate what he would do if anything should happen to either of them.

Self-doubt was dangerous. He needed to get over it, and quickly, if he was going to be successful protecting the ones he loved this time around.

"A penny for your thoughts." Emma sidled up next to him and snuggled close.

"Hey! I didn't hear you come back out." He swiftly shielded his thoughts from her, slid his arms around her shoulders, and kissed her lightly on her forehead.

"Well, should I guess what has your mind so completely occupied?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. So, did Hannah settle down quickly to sleep?"

"I think she was asleep before her head hit the pillow. I'm concerned, Michael," she admitted, fatigue evident in her voice. "About the toll this is taking on her physically and emotionally. I can't wait 'til this whole thing is over and done with. I still sometimes think I'm dreaming this elaborate dream, and at any moment I'm going to wake up to find everything back the way it was before— before she started having nightmares."

Michael was concerned, too, and gave her a squeeze of reassurance that he truly didn't feel. Maybe if he faked it, he would come to believe it. He couldn't shake this apprehension he'd had since sunset, but was also confident that if anything were wrong, his Brethren team would have alerted him. He fixed a smile on his face.

"She's going to be fine, honey. Come on, let's head inside and see what we can do about these pre-game jitters. I think I know the perfect solution." He lifted Emma right off her feet so they were eye to eye and kissed her. It started out innocently enough, but quickly escalated to one filled with passion. He put everything into that kiss—his need, his desire for her, his doubt. And he knew the instant his thoughts had traveled down the threaded connection they now shared. His shields had fallen. She tore herself away and shook her head, leaving him aroused and edgy.

"Seems I'm not the only one with concerns," Emma chided. He grabbed her back to him and rested his head on her shoulder, then let her go.

"Guilty as charged," Michael declared, kicking his foot at an imaginary pebble. They walked up to the house, hand in hand. "I'm going to have to be more careful around you from now on. Your powers are real good, honey. Healing and reading minds. What a great combination."

"Yeah well, when you got it, you got it," she joked. "Now, about those doubts—" She became serious. "Don't go there, Michael. Don't second guess your powers. You know you can see this through to a successful end. I know you can."

"Yeah, yeah...." He shuffled his feet in the dirt, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Sweetheart, do you know you're brooding?"

"I guess I am. So do you think Mama can make me feel all better?" he asked, stopping before they entered the house.

"Oh, honey, that's what Mama does best. I promise." With a smoldering glance, she reached both hands up, grabbed him by his hair and pulled him down for a kiss so scorching it was a wonder the entire house didn't go up in flames.

Without missing a step, he scooped her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom. With the door closed behind them, their passion play continued.

He eased her down to stand before him, and looked deeply into the caverns of her eyes, seeing his reflection and finding her soul reaching out, connecting with his. Lost in the deep pools of chocolate that stared wondrously back at him, he found home. His gaze shifted to her lips, those luscious lips, then to her throat, where he could see her pulse quickening with each moment that passed.

"Emma, I can't stand it any longer," he panted in breathless anticipation, and ripped his shirt open. He took her hand and brought it to rest on his chest. "I gotta have you. Touch me. Know me again."

She stepped forward and replaced her hand with her tongue, leaving trail marks of seduction all the way to his navel. Michael nearly came right then. He cradled the nape of her neck, leaned over her, and kissed her with all the ardor of a man who'd lost all control. They released each other long enough to hastily shed their clothes. As if they were magnets, they came together in the center of the room, arms entwined, hands feverishly seeking to reacquaint themselves with each other's bodies, becoming one.

"Oh Michael, I'm gonna touch you, and feel you, and know you like no one's done before."

"And you're gonna make it all better, right?" Michael pleaded through the kisses he traced over her lips and throat and down her body to the very core that made her a woman. "You promised you'd make it all better."

"Oh, God! Yes, I'll make it all better, baby." She moaned and dug her nails into his back. As close to the edge as he was, he still held out on her.

"Michael, let them out. Let your wings out, angel. I want all of you. No more hiding."

She brushed her silky smooth body over his, hoping to ignite little fires along the way wherever her breasts and mouth teased. From bottom to top, she climbed him like a pole. He groaned and released his wings in all their glory. They glowed from within, something she hadn't noticed the first time she'd seen them. The feathers quivered in a nonexistent breeze, and all she could think to do at that moment was touch them. She craved the sensation of his feathers against the tips of her fingers... and more. And then, she remembered how her touch had affected him before. He growled and lifted her up off the floor.

In midair, Emma found herself cradled in his wings and watched in hazy delirium as he lost all control with her. Feathers traced teasing trails along her ankles to her calves, and came to a fluttering halt on her breasts. His hand took the same path, but lingered at the juncture of her thighs. She opened for him while her own hands sought to discover every hill and valley of his well-hewn body. Her fingers traversed across the wide expanse of his shoulder blades and down to the crook of his lower back, making small circles along the ridges of his wings, until she froze and caught her breath.

Michael entered her while they spun in a slow, sensual spiral. She'd never known ecstasy such as this. His possessive kisses smothered her moans and sobs. As they climaxed together, crying out each other's names, a shroud of light so brilliant and pure emanated from their bodies and lit up the room. Emma looked about them, her eyes filled with wonder and awe, and he kissed her cheek. The light slowly dimmed as they finally came to rest on her bed, drenched in sweat and replete beyond measure. The coolness of the sheets eased the fire still burning inside her, and she nestled against him, not willing to disengage from their entanglement. And then finally, she succumbed to exhaustion.

He'd wanted to say so much, but found no voice. What more could he say that hadn't been said already? He could tell her he loved her more than his immortal life. But if, no, _when_ they survived their confrontation with Namirha, what would become of them and their love? Was he to go through their lives watching, pained, as she grew older and eventually died, while he didn't? He refused to think about that with Beth. He chose denial instead, turning his back on what he truly was, an angel, an immortal. He was destined either to be alone without pain, or to be with someone he loved and feel the agony of that ultimate loss forever. The answer revealed itself clearly before him as he lay in the strong yet tender arms of the woman he loved. He would stay with her as long as her forever was.

Chapter Eighteen

Resolve clear in Michael's head, he turned his attention to the unsettling feeling that wouldn't go away. Since making love with Emma didn't seem to dampen it, he knew better than to disregard it any longer and figured it had something to do with Agremon. He hadn't shown his face for a long while, and that bothered him. What was he up to? There had been no sign of him around the property, no threaded signature to give him away. Michael was confident that the Brethren guarding the property would be able to smoke him out with the smallest of indicators of his existence.

He got up from bed, and she immediately reached out in her sleep. Instantly deprived of what had become so essential, her, he grimaced, tucked his wings away, and got dressed. He had a job to do that he mustn't forget; protect the Great Savior Mother and the Great Warrior Child.

So, he skulked around the house, scanning for anything unusual. Maybe cruising about would help him pinpoint the origin of his concern. He peeked in on Hannah who lay silently sleeping. He passed through the guest room and opened up the closet. Nothing. He slunk down the hall to the family room, kitchen, study and playroom. Again, nothing. Not a thread to indicate anything wrong. He snuck back to Emma's bedroom. What time was it anyway? He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. Three thirty-three in the morning.

And that's precisely when all hell literally broke loose.

***

Emma roused from her sleep by the lightest touch of a hand to her cheek. She smiled drowsily with her eyes still closed and purred, "Come back to bed. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, pretty Mama. That's why I came back for you," the stranger mocked, while reaching behind her head and pulling her upright. He covered her mouth before she could let out a sound. "Shhhh. Easy does it. Wouldn't want to wake the neighborhood. Oh, wait. I understand your confusion now." He tightened his grip. "I forgot about my recent makeover. I bet you don't recognize me. It's me, Agremon, my lovey."

Confused, frightened, and pissed, she stopped fighting him in the hopes he would release her mouth to speak with him.

"If I uncover your mouth, are you gonna scream? 'Cause if you do, I'll have to kill you right here and now. That would really be unfortunate."

She shook her head and he removed his hand.

"How? How were you able to get to me?" Her stomach churned like a runaway washing machine.

"Oh, just a little matter of possession makes all bets _and_ shields null and void, my dear. Don't you like the new look? Young and lanky is more your cup of tea than old and gruesome, right? Now, Mr. Lovey-dovey Protector will be back shortly. Just so you know, he's going to have to choose between saving you and saving your daughter. If he chooses wisely, you'll live to see another day. If he chooses poorly, well, you're more a master of your own terror than I, so you can imagine what's in store. You get the picture, don't you? A slow, painful, horrifying death for our Ms. Livingston."

"Why, you son of a—" Emma spat and thrashed madly about. To her visible consternation, he remained unfazed.

"Regardless of what our mighty Protector does, Hannah will be going on a little vacation, as it were, for a few days. While you're busy vacationing in your hellish dreams, she'll be getting better acquainted with her new father, Mr. Namirha, but don't worry about a thing. She's going to have so much fun, especially on her birthday; she's never gonna want to leave!"

"If you so much as breathe in her direction I will fucking kill you, you bastard!" she shrieked and renewed her attack, pummeling him with her fists and kicking wildly with her legs.

"I'd like to see you try, love," Agremon sneered as squeezed the nape of her neck and secured her legs with his own. "Parting is such sweet sorrow, my dear, but alas, I must go and fulfill my destiny. Have fun in your own little Hell." He placed his free hand over her forehead. She fought to remove it, but was no match for him.

"Oh God, no!"

He rested her head back onto her pillow, stared a moment at her seemingly lifeless body, and made his way to Hannah's room. Success was moments away. He reached her bed and proceeded to lift her away from her cozy cocoon. He had to be extra careful. Hannah was a feisty one. She squirmed a bit in his arms and her eyes fluttered open.

"Mmm. What's going on? Hey, you're not one of the Brethren. Let me go!" She wriggled like a worm and pushed against his chest.

"Relax little one, it is I, your old friend, Agremon, here to take you to your new father. He is anxious to see you and take care of you, and make a happy family together."

"Agremon," she whispered, her eyes widening in astonishment. Without warning, she let out a howl that nearly ruptured his eardrums. "Help!"

***

Michael heard blood-curdling screams coming first from Emma's and then from Hannah's rooms. As he raced to back to them, he stopped dead in his tracks. A familiar voice infiltrated the very air molecules around him. Agremon. How the hell had he gotten to his women again?

" _Which way should you go, Michael? Which way should you go? Will it be door number one or door number two? Here's the tricky part. If you pick the wrong door, one will surely die tonight. So which will it be, Mr. Protector? Huh? I leave you to your decision. I hope you enjoy the music while you ponder your choices. I always find the musical shrill of people's screams to be most helpful when I'm deliberating."_ And his wicked laughter trailed off, yet remained ringing in Michael's ears.

***

Emma whirled around madly, looking for a place that would provide shelter against her fears and the unknown. There wasn't a chance in hell that she would go back to the mausoleum. As she searched the cemetery she shivered, noticing every headstone had her name engraved on it.

Darkness fell upon the cemetery, along with a fog so dense she couldn't see her hand outstretched before her. It made it increasingly impossible for her to find anywhere to hide. Her heart thudded against her chest while tiny beads of sweat condensed on her upper lip. _Damn it! Not again. I can't let this happen to me_ _again. Hannah needs me._

At that moment, she refused to be paralyzed by her fears any longer nor be a victim ever again. Now was as good a time as any to beat down her fears of the darkness. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let Agremon win. She took a deep breath and willed her heart rate to slow down. What had Agremon said? She was the master of her own terror. Well, she was now the master of her own fate and terror had no place in it!

She felt around some more and found a tall headstone that she thought good enough to sit by, and then tried to figure out how to get out of the mess Agremon had wrought. How does one escape a nightmare created by a demon? She hadn't a clue. That gave her time to think about other things. Hannah. What was happening to her baby girl? Would she be able to hold her own against the wretched demon? Would Michael make the right choice? Of course he would. She swore on her own life that she would seek revenge should anything happen to her daughter.

***

Agremon and Hannah vanished before she could take another breath to scream. They reappeared in Namirha's home.

"Where are we?" Hannah asked, her voice barely audible.

"Mr. Namirha's throne room. It's really just a glorified hole in the wall." There was a large, empty chair at the back of an alcove and a runner made of goat's hide on the ground. Above the chair was mounted a huge ceremonial knife that had sacred inscriptions written along the blade. All along the walls of the alcove were skulls of various animals, and right in front of the chair, a pentagram adorned the floor.

As Agremon was about to call Namirha, he appeared before them, eyes ablaze with hunger and triumph. "What have we here? I do believe I see before me my wayward apprentice and a gift. Agremon, it is you, is it not? You look a bit different. The makeover doesn't quite suit you. You're too soft-looking. I expect to see the real you by sunrise. Now, is this not the child who is to be my daughter?"

"Yes, my lord. It is she, Hannah Livingston." He held her dangling straight out into the air for him to see. "I have defeated the Brethren and taken her from their evil clutches," Agremon boasted.

"I know better than to believe all that rubbish, my dear Agremon. And I'm wondering how it is you escaped my care. But no matter, she is here and I am at peace. Welcome, my child. Do put her down. I believe there are last minute plans that need attending to for tomorrow's Homecoming. See that all is ready."

"Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord." Agremon bowed and vanished.

***

Hannah stood stone still. She was finally face to face with Mr. Namirha. "Come to me, child. Don't be afraid. I am to be your father come your birthday. Oh, and what a birthday it will be, my dear! We'll have ourselves such a party to end all parties." He clasped his hands together and smiled. "Would you like that? I'm sure you would. Come, give your father a hug." He entreated with all the adulation and warmth a parent would bestow on his only child. He reached his arms out to her and waited.

The child that was Hannah froze with fear, and the soul that was the Ancient Warrior took over, gently pushing the terrified child back into a safe little corner of her mind.

The Ancient Warrior soul knew exactly what to do and began to weave a story to save the little girl's life. She spoke in a thin, wavering voice.

"I've always missed having a father. My mother has kept me away from him against both of our wishes. But now, you're saying you could be my father. I think I'd like that. I'm scared a little bit, though. Agremon scares me. I don't think he likes me very much, and I think he'd like to hurt me. If you're going to be my father, will you protect me from that scary man?"

"My dear, I will let nothing scare you or hurt you. You will be my daughter. You will be royalty, and all will kneel at your feet or suffer the consequences." Namirha took a few steps toward Hannah. He reached out a hand to her, beckoning her to approach. She inched forward one step and then another. And she stopped. She had to appear to be wary yet impressionable.

"Royalty, is that like being a princess? Will I be a princess, Mr. Namirha?" the Ancient Warrior asked, feigning a childlike demeanor, and put a hand on her hip.

"Yes, my dear," he replied, smiling like a crocodile to a frog. "A princess from now on and please, call me father, would you? It would make my heart sing." He stepped closer to her.

"Wow, a real princess! Will I have a crown? Will I have pretty dresses? Will I have people do things for me?" As Hannah threw these questions out, she jumped up and threw herself upon Namirha. Inwardly she shuddered, but he could never know how she truly felt or it would ruin any chance she had to gain the upper hand. Namirha caught her deftly, not showing the least bit of surprise by her assault.

"Yes, yes, anything for you, my dearest daughter!"

***

Michael raced to Emma's bedside. He prayed she'd become strong enough to battle whatever Agremon had planned for her. He immediately lay beside her, gathered her up in his arms, and proceeded to enter her dreams as he'd done before.

"Emma! Emma!" he shouted urgently. "Where are you? It's me, Michael!" He noticed that Agremon had sent her back to the nightmare from before. This time, the dark was darker, the fog was thicker, and he hoped that she hadn't been reduced to terror-induced insanity.

"Michael? Did you get to Hannah in time?" she shouted back. He didn't respond right away, not wanting to face her wrath just yet. He imagined an endless barrage of stones hurled at him before he could reach her. "Michael, is Hannah okay?" Again, he gave no answer. "Damn it! I'm over by a tall headstone. Right next to the mausoleum, if you can see anything!"

"I think I know where you are. Stay put. I'm almost to you." Michael could see better than a mortal, which made his task of finding her easier. "Here you are. Thank God! Are you okay? Are you injured? Did Agremon touch you?" His questions came pouring out faster than a waterfall. He reached out to grab her, to hold her; he had feared so much for her safety. But she violently batted his arms away.

"Did you get to Hannah?" He shook his head. "Then what the hell are you doing here? Go save her!" She shoved him. "How could you pick me?" She screeched and shoved him again. "You've got to get out of here. Agremon's gone after Hannah. How could you come for me first and let him get to her? How?" She started slapping at his chest with her open hands, and he took it. "My baby's gonna die at the hands of Agremon and Namirha, and you came for me." Her open hands curled into fists, and she began pounding him with all of her might. "You know I'd die before they got their hands on her. You know that! I was fine here. I was dealing. And now she's gone. She's gone and it's all your fucking fault!" He feared she'd gone over the edge as she threw her whole body into punishing him.

Michael winced at the verbal thrashing and absorbed the physical assault, but there was a limit to his patience. He grabbed her arms to stay them, pulled her to him and growled, "Enough, Emma, enough!"

"Get me out of here, Michael," she hissed. "Someone has to save my baby. Since you can't seem to keep us protected, I'll have to do it myself. Some Great Fucking Protector you are."

She was killing his heart and he believed he deserved it. Again, he was powerless to provide protection to the people he loved most. "I'll take you back now. But, listen to me and why I did what I did. Coming for you instead of Hannah, as hard as it was for me to do, I believe saved both of your lives. Think about it. If I had gone to her, Agremon would have killed you, no doubt. As much as you would have preferred that over him taking her, he still would have gotten to her regardless. And I'm not prepared to go on living my life without you or her. Since I came for you, yes, Agremon took Hannah, but he can't harm her. Not yet. Namirha can't do a thing before her birthday either. They need her alive! And we'll be there, near her, in just a few hours. I'm so sorry my protection failed you. I really am. I think once we're back, and we hash this out with the others, we'll find out how this happened." With nothing more to be said, he gently embraced her, placed his right hand on her forehead, and took them on a journey back to real time.

They awoke together. Emma spared no time but jumped off the bed and fled to her daughter's bedroom. The other Brethren stormed through the front and back doors.

"What's happened?" Gabriel asked, breathing hard. "For hours there was nothing, and suddenly, for only a split second, we felt Agremon's thread."

"Agremon's got Hannah," Michael replied, hardly able to get the words out as failure threatened to still his heart.

Emma sifted desperately through the covers on Hannah's bed while Michael looked on, helpless and guilt-ridden. "Hannah! Where are you, baby? Mama's here! Mama's...here." She collapsed onto to the floor. Her cries of fury and rage exploded like a sonic wave through the room, knocking him and the rest of the Brethren literally off their feet and crashing into the walls behind them.

As they recovered from the blast of energy, Gabriel suggested a quick meeting of the minds to find out what happened. Michael fought with himself to go to her. Raphael must have seen his inner turmoil and took the decision from him.

"I'll go to Emma, you go with the others, figure things out, and what we do next. Clue me in first so I know what I'm dealing with here." Grateful for the support, Michael told him everything he knew and what he'd done, and then he went to the family room where the others eagerly awaited some kind of explanation.
Chapter Nineteen

Raphael put a gentle hand on Emma's back. Her pain was so acute, that even with his mighty strength, he had to fight to keep his hand upon her. "Emma, it's Raphael. Let me help you." He placed his other hand on her head and stroked her hair, all the while releasing his own healing energy. He gave her all he could without jeopardizing his own safety. But she needed more. She had released all of her energies with that blast and was completely tapped out.

"Emma, can you hear me?" Raphael urged.

"Yes," she whispered back weakly.

"You need more than I can give. And your protections are blown to bits. You are vulnerable. Cassiel can complete the healing, but you will need Michael to repair your protection."

She slowly turned her face up, her bloodshot eyes still swimming with tears. Soft as a whisper, yet strong with conviction she ordered, "Get someone else."

"You don't realize what you're saying. Michael is the strongest Protector we've got. You're letting your emotions guide you rather than clear logic and reason. Please, let me get him for you."

She pushed herself up to a sitting position, ripped Michael's talisman from her neck, and threw it across the room. "I said get me someone else! I can't trust him anymore. If he loved me, he wouldn't have tossed my baby to Hell. She's all I have in this world, and he let Evil have her. No, he's just like Ron, making Hannah last on his list of priorities. Well, she's first on mine and always will be. I'd rather die here and now before accepting any protection from him. I will have someone else or I will have no one!" She crumpled back down to the floor having expended what little energy she had been given. Raphael collected her in his arms, her nightgown a twisted mess around her knees, and sat with her.

"Damn it, Emma! You've got to calm down. You're using up energy quicker than it can be replaced. We will get Hannah back. He's right. She's safe with Namirha. He won't harm her or do anything to jeopardize his chance at total world domination. You know very well she's the key. He did the right thing by rescuing you rather than her. As harsh as it sounds, it's true. The sooner you acknowledge that the sooner we can go on with our plans to infiltrate the Homecoming, which we need to be at in a few hours' time."

Silence. It's better than the wracking sobs from moments ago, Raphael thought optimistically. At least five minutes went by without a word from her. She lay in his arms like a ragdoll. And then she spoke in the softest of whispers, with a voice that tugged at the very foundation of who he was as a healer.

"I'm sorry, Raphael. You're right. I'm sorry, so, so sorry." She looked at him with shame in her eyes. Tears slid like ghosts down her face. He stroked her hair once again, giving more of himself than he knew he should, but he wasn't who mattered now.

"Shh, we all understand what you're going through. She is a part of us, too. You must trust that everything that happens, happens for a reason. We plan and God laughs, right? But if you think about it, our plan hasn't been altered that much. Think positive. We're counting on you, as part of the Trinity."

"Send in Cassiel, please. And have Zadkiel work on you. Don't think I don't know what you've done, my friend. You've compromised yourself for my sake. I won't forget that, ever."

"In the scheme of things, Emma, your safety matters above all. Will you see Michael?"

She sighed deeply. "I guess I must. I behaved abominably towards him, Raphael. How will I ever look at him again without feeling shame inside? He will never forgive me. I've lost him. My blind madness for my daughter made me lose faith. And I've lost him."

"Give it time, Great Savior Mother. Love heals." Raphael released her and walked to the door of Hannah's bedroom. "I'll go get Cassiel for you now."

He closed the door behind him, leaving Emma to gather her wits.

***

Raphael walked into the family room. "Cassiel, head on in, she's ready for you. Well, any idea how this happened?"

"None whatsoever. There was not one thread of Agremon's existence floating around out there, except for a brief second," Kemuel asserted. "Ask anyone."

"What I know," Michael began, "is that I heard his voice all around me, goading me, and telling me to choose between Emma and Hannah. If I chose wrong, one would die. But I never saw him. Emma, I think, will have the answers we're looking for."

He dragged his hands through his hair for the millionth time. His brows deeply creased, guilt and shame were scrawled over his face like a tattoo. He knew he'd done the right thing, but her reaction was ripping him to shreds. He'd lost her trust. He didn't just feel it. He had heard her yell it from Hannah's room. With Hannah gone, and Emma lost to him, how on earth was the Trinity to survive and help conquer Namirha? Lord only knew. As usual.

Cassiel returned, looking a little worse for wear. "Lord Almighty, she's powerful! I tell you, I'm spent, and still I wasn't able to completely get her back to fully-loaded. No wonder she was able to knock us on our asses before! But I'm estimating that by the time we're ready to get going, she'll be right as rain. She needs to rest for the next couple of hours. Hey, Michael, you're up. All that power needs protecting, brother. You might want to put a little extra zing in it, her being all Great Savior and all." Cassiel threw himself on the couch and closed his eyes. "If you need me, you know where I am, just knock." He immediately fell into his meditative state.

Michael turned to Raphael. "She doesn't want me. She doesn't trust me. Better to send in Urie."

"It's okay. I explained things to her, made her see reason. She agreed to see you so you can give her your protection," he consoled, placing a reassuring arm on his shoulder. "All will be well. In the end, all will be well."

As he walked cautiously towards Hannah's room, Michael raised an eyebrow at Raphael. He opened the door and closed it behind him. Emma lay on her bed, eyes closed, looking beautiful, stronger, but not the least bit at peace. He took a deep breath as he edged closer to the bed, dying to reach out and hold her and never let her go. He fought his desire with all his might and simply gave a little cough to let her know he was there.

***

Emma opened her eyes and closed them again. She turned away and curled up like a ball. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. It hurt like hell to look at him. She hated him. She loved him. She gave her trust to him, and he betrayed her. Or did he? Had letting Agremon take Hannah really saved them both? Yes. Was she humble and strong enough to admit it?

Maybe she was mad. She couldn't help second-guessing everything or letting the cynicism taint her views. Ron's betrayal and their divorce had ruined her. But then how had she allowed Michael to break down her defenses so easily?

"Emma, I've come to replace what you've lost," Michael told her simply. She remained in her protective position. "Can what is lost ever truly be replaced?"

"As far as protection goes, yes. I can replace that."

"I guess that is something, then," she squeaked out.

She heard him walk by Hannah's bureau. Her Talisman lay forgotten on the floor. She peeked out from behind her arm as he bent down to pick it up. He was inspecting the piece. She guessed his protection on it had been pulverized by her blast of grief and fury. Well, she had warned him about her maternal powers being stronger than anything.

She damn well proved it.

"I'll rework the incantations into the charm and it will be as good as new, even better actually."

If he's trying to sound professionally removed, it isn't working.

"Okay." She wished there was a do-over button she could push.

He began speaking quietly in words she didn't understand. His voice was so soothing and hypnotic that she dozed off for a while.

"I'll need to hold you now, Emma, so you can absorb my protective aura. Are you okay with that?" he asked.

"Hmmm? What? Oh, I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Are you finished?"

She turned to look at him standing over her at her bedside and quickly averted her eyes, her shame not allowing her to face him.

"Not quite. I'll need to hold you so you can absorb my protective aura. Are you okay with that?"

"Me? Am I okay with that?" She paused. "Are you okay with that? Can you stand to hold me? I mean, I don't even know how you can stand to talk to me or even help me for that matter." She hiccupped and shifted to sit up. "I'm so sorry, Michael! Can you ever forgive me? Can you ever forgive me for saying and doing the horrible things I'm truly ashamed of, for not being stronger? You probably can't." She strangled the sheets clenched in her hands. "Knowing each other as long as we have, having been through so much and meaning more to each other than we ever expected, how does one forgive a lack of trust? But I do trust you, I do! It's me I've lost faith in." She beat her chest with her fist. "It's me who can't protect my own daughter. It's me who is a downright failure! And I turned it all on you." She choked on her sobs, letting her hand fall back down to her lap. She felt so forlorn, like a child lost to the world.

Michael sat down and gripped her arms harshly. She grimaced and he loosened his hold.

"Emma, there is nothing for me to forgive. You have every right not to trust me. What have I done to gain your trust? Huh? I've told you a crazy story about who you are and brought you into this otherworldly realm of angels and immortals. I've let Agremon get to you not once but three times now. I'm the failure here. E.L. never should have picked me for the Trinity. I'm too ashamed to even ask for your forgiveness." He tore away from her and stood by the small window facing the mountains, pounding a fist against the window frame. She was shocked. He didn't despise her? He feels ashamed? _And he's asked for my_ _forgiveness? This isn't right._ She rose to stand beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Your guilt complex seems to be as immovable as those damn mountains." She pointed out the window.

"Michael, you did what was right. At first, I was too consumed by grief and fear to see it, as any mother would be having her child stolen from her. But Raphael helped me see the bigger picture, and I've had time to think on it and understand the implications of your choice. By choosing me over Hannah, you saved us both. You _saved_ us both. I was so wrong to have said what I said. And you should know better than me that things happen for a reason. All the choices we make, all the roads we take are meant to lead us to an ultimate end which we may not know 'til we're there. I forgive you for your negatively skewed perception of yourself. Can you forgive me my hasty, judgmental, neurotic tendencies and scathing tongue?" There was a dreadful silence. She was alarmed. They were finished. The first relationship she'd had since her divorce, and it was over before it really had a chance to begin.

And then he spoke. And his voice was beautiful and kind and light. "I think I can manage that, as long as you let me power up your protections," he bargained with a gleam in his eyes as he caressed her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

She laughed. "I think I can live with that, too."

"Let me hold you, Emma, and we'll both get what we want." She couldn't deny the longing in his voice and hope in his eyes.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. She sunk into him as he embraced her with his strong arms, and they both sighed. As he enclosed her in his protective aura she shared some of her healing energy with him. Guilt and shame, grief and fear melted away to be replaced with strength and faith, harmony and love. Time paused as they renewed and strengthened their bond.

"You need to rest now." Michael took his talisman that he'd woven extra-strong with his protection and placed it gently around her neck. "It's about five-thirty in the morning. We leave for the Homecoming at nine. The Brethren will do some readjusting to our plans while you sleep. Remember, your strength is needed for all of us to succeed. So sleep." He rested her on the bed, kissed her forehead, eyes, and lips, and whispered, "I love you. I don't deserve you, but I can't help loving you.

***

Emma awoke with a jolt. She didn't know how long she'd been asleep, but she woke up with a racing heart and an urgent need to share what she knew about Agremon. She hurried out of bed, opened the door, and raced to the family room.

"Agremon's not Agremon!" she sputtered out as she came slamming into a wall, otherwise known as Kemuel. "Oof!" He caught her as she rebounded off of his chest and just before she would've fallen back on her ass. She gave him an embarrassed yet grateful smile as she righted herself and made her way more slowly into the family room.

"Emma?" Raphael bristled. "What are you doing up and running around? You should be sleeping and replenishing your powers."

"Raphael, everyone, you have to listen." As she sat down on the coffee table she noticed Cassiel meditating on the far corner of the couch. "Wake him up. Everyone needs to hear this." She waited for someone to nudge the dozing angel awake before she said anything further. Zadkiel took the honors and gave him a hard shove.

"Hey, easy does it, brother. I'm awake, I'm awake," Cassiel grunted. "Hey there, Emma. Feeling better?"

"A bit, thanks. Listen, Agremon is not Agremon. What I mean is, he sounds like him and behaves like him, but he doesn't look like him. When he came to me, he looked like a young man, kind of scrawny, stringy blond hair, blue eyes, about six-foot tall with a bad case of acne. I don't know how he did it, but he's possessed a mortal's body. He said that possessing a mortal made Michael's talismans and shields useless. That's how he got to me and stole Hannah away."

The Brethren were silent. She looked to each of them, wondering if this new turn of events had them stymied. She nibbled on her bottom lip. Nasty habit, but it was better than smoking. Finally someone spoke up. It was Gabriel.

"He can't stay in that body forever. In fact, if I remember correctly, I don't think he can stay longer than twenty-four hours."

"Where does this guy get all his info?" Cassiel marveled.

"Just call me the information guru," Gabriel threw back at him. "During one of my searches regarding fallen angels and their powers, I remember reading that a fallen angel can possess a mortal, but for a short period of time, and then the host body rejects the possessor. Unfortunately, the host body dies once the possessor leaves it. Agremon's able to get past Michael's shields and walk around undetected right now because his soul is, in essence, disguised. What we've got to figure out is how to protect ourselves against him until he returns to his own body."

"You know what I'm thinking?" Kemuel asked. "We find a way to protect ourselves, call him out in the open, and kill him right then and there."

"As much as I would like to see him dead, my brother, Agremon's death would surely put Namirha on alert. With Hannah at his mercy, I'm not willing to risk that, are you?" Nathanael replied.

"No, no, I'm not, but I'm sick and tired of Agremon's crap! I want the asshole dead and gone already," Kemuel grumbled.

"Whoa! We're going to have to stay cool if we're going to think things through properly. Michael, you got anything we can use to shield us from him in his current state?" Nathanael asked.

"Yeah, I do actually. Everyone, stand up and make a circle. Lock your arms together with the person next to you. I'm going to weave an ancient incantation that has saved priests from possession during an exorcism. If I weave it just right, it will protect all of us from anything Agremon tries to do against us." Everyone did as Michael asked, eager to be as prepared as possible.

Michael began a low, slow chant in an unfamiliar language. Given the quizzical looks passing between the other Protectors, Emma figured this was something way out of their league. As he chanted he walked around the circle. Glowing wisps of threads appeared above the circle, woven into intricate patterns that she thought were breathtakingly beautiful in their delicate artistry. And yet, she could tell there was a strength there that was unshakable.

The woven tapestry enshrouded the Brethren and her alike and gently faded as though melting into the very fibers of their clothing. At the same instant, a surge of energy, warm and strong, penetrated her body. Michael dropped to one knee, but was quick to get up, reassuring all that he was fine.

It was time to prepare for the Homecoming infiltration. Gabriel had called his assistant to purchase and deliver the equipment the Brethren would need. They loaded up their trucks with a few tents, sleeping bags and cots, and food.

_This certainly isn't going to be a typical family camping trip_ , Emma mused darkly as she saw swords and amulets being tossed in the Brethren's duffle bags. And then she saw what she had unwittingly placed in hers—a picture of Hannah.

"I'm coming for you, Hannah," she vowed, touching the picture, before she hugged it to her. "Don't be afraid; let your Ancient Warrior soul fight for you. We're all coming, my sweet angel, and we will all end this together."

Chapter Twenty

Namirha was in his temporary office, a glorified tent at Headquarters, putting the finishing touches on his sermon for this morning's service and could feel the masses lining up at the registration desks in front of the enormous tent-like sanctuary. It could easily seat about a thousand people, and by the looks of it, would wind up being standing room only for this, the first of three separate services: one for morning, one for the afternoon, and one for the evening. By then, he figured he'd have all the followers he needed to press forward with his plans to destroy his enemies and rule the world. Yes, his people were coming. He knew they would. How weak of faith these mortals were to their Gods.

Last night, surprisingly, Agremon had come through and given him Hannah. Just how he had escaped to do Namirha's bidding still gnawed at him. He obviously had powers he'd kept hidden. Namirha would be wise to keep a closer eye on him.

And there Hannah sat, at her own desk, drawing pictures of flowers and bunnies. He watched her for a few minutes, amazed that after all this time of hunting her down, he finally had her in his grasp. And the best part was that she had no clue how important her role would be on her birthday. She looked up to find him staring at her. If she sensed it, she didn't let on.

"What are you doing, Father?"

"I'm writing my sermon for this morning's service. You know, I am a religious leader, the head of The Source, my child. I must write a speech that speaks to what people need to ease their suffering and pain, to make them see that The Source can and will provide for all their desires."

"You can do that for everyone? How?" she asked, head cocking to one side. "All you need to know is that I have a special gift that I wish to share with the world. Now, how is your drawing going, my dear?"

"Well, I think my flowers are okay, but my bunnies look more like little fuzzy devils. Oh well. So will I go to the services, too, Father?"

"Oh no, my precious. You will stay here. There will be a special service on your birthday, though, that you can definitely attend. In fact, I've bought you the most marvelous dress for it. But you'll have to wait until your birthday to see it and wear it. Although, I do have a little gift for you that you may open now. It's hidden somewhere in this tent. Now, I must get going to the morning service, so you stay put. I believe Helena will see to your needs until I return."

He gently patted her head and rubbed her hair between his fingers before he turned and left the room.

***

Just that small caress allowed the Ancient Warrior to weave a thread connecting Hannah to Namirha's mind. She needed to know if his plans had changed since her abduction. Somehow, she would need to get that information to the Brethren when they came today. She briefly thought of her mother and what she must be going through since her abduction, but quickly pushed it out of her head. Emotions were the last thing she needed to trip her up right now.

Helena showed no signs of entering the tent so the Ancient Warrior directed Hannah to lie down as though taking a nap. She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply and began her journey along the threaded connection to Namirha. This would be tricky, but she had done very well at masking her presence during practice and was confident that she could do it now. Her breaths were admittedly shaky at first. After all, she was about to enter the mind of the Devil himself. The Ancient Warrior's soul took control at that moment of realization, and made sure that little Hannah was safely tucked away in her little corner of her mind. She knew all too well the horrors yet to come; and one so innocent as she should never witness pure evil unleashed.

The thread she traveled was more like a tunnel, dark and slimy, with unadulterated evil thought and intent dripping down the curved sides to the floor below. The Ancient Warrior was able to stay centered throughout the tunnel, narrowly missing touching the evil ooze at points. As she made her way through, getting closer and closer to her goal, she could feel threads of doubt and fear trying to encircle her.

Had Namirha detected her? Could she defend herself if he had? She strengthened her shields to mask her presence, reached out to grab hold of the doubt and fear to find that it hadn't come from Namirha at all, but rather herself. Fine time to white knuckle, she chided herself.

Finally she reached the thread that held Namirha's plans. Ever so gently she teased the ideas away from the others so she could get a better look. _He plans on_ _using everyone who comes to the Homecoming as his mortal army to keep the Brethren distracted from his goal, to kill me on my birthday with a sacred knife in order to absorb my powers and have supreme domination over the world._

Then he would kill the Brethren, as well, ensuring that he would rule for eternity. He had his immortal army ready to take care of that. Suddenly, she felt something. A little niggle at the back of her mind, like an alarm, and she knew she needed to get out of there and fast. Namirha was at the point of recognizing her invasion. She had the briefest of moments to flee back down the tunnel and get out.

Safely out of his mind, she bolted upright from her "sleep". A strange woman sat in a chair beside her with a vapid look on her face. She patted Hannah's arm mechanically. "There, there. It's all right. You fell asleep and must have had a bad dream. Come here and I'll hug it away."

"I-I'm okay, really. Thanks, anyway," Hannah replied meekly with a small smile. The last thing she wanted was to be touched by that creepy lady. "My father said he hid a gift for me somewhere in this tent. Would you help me find it? Then, I think I'll go and get some fresh air and maybe some water. Yeah, water would be great, too."

"Sure, I'll help you. Mr. Namirha gave strict orders to watch you and take care of you. I won't let him down."

Great.

***

After Agremon's triumphant return, he quickly flashed himself to the cell where Jared was being held, having so willingly swapped places with his buddy almost twelve hours ago. Agremon needed to do something and quickly—get his body back before Jared's rejected him and he found himself forever floating around like dust particles.

"Hey, Jared! I'm home!" Agremon was met with silence from his body that hung limp in the shackles. "What, no hello?"

He walked closer and smacked his face. A faint grunt escaped from the barely conscious Jared. "Hey, why the long face? No one said it was easy being me. I guess it's true, our experiences shape who we are, and I'm one helluva creature, ain't I? Well, you're in luck, my friend! You don't need to be me anymore! And, did you notice the flaying stopped?"

Another grunt and a whimper. "Are those tears of joy I see? Aw, you don't have to thank me. Don't say a word. I know how you feel. Unfortunately for you, you're not going to be feeling much of anything anymore." Agremon gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Thanks for being a pal, my man. It was fun while it lasted."

Although the young man was trapped in his immortal's body, Agremon took demonic pleasure in knowing his mortal soul had felt all the torture and he was near death's door. He unchained Jared's arms and legs and watched as his body flopped to the floor. He grabbed both of his hands and chanted an incantation similar to the one he had said earlier. "I was you and you were me, and now I set my damned soul free."

Their two souls departed their host bodies and returned to their rightful places. Agremon immediately got up. Jared did not, nor would he ever again. Agremon didn't give him a second glance and flashed to Headquarters to do his cultish duties. He was back on top, and just where he wanted to be.

***

"Hi, and welcome to The Source. Please sign in. My name's Shandy. If you're interested in a longer stay with us, I can help you with that." The girl taking care of Michael's and Emma's registration looked to be about twenty-years old, with washed-out blonde hair, no makeup, and an overall bland appearance. Although she smiled, Emma saw dilated pupils, and for a bright Arizona morning, they should have been pinholes. She was under some kind of mind control.

As she glanced at the other people helping with registration, she found the same to be true about them. All of their eyes were vacuous and lifeless. She wondered if other people registering had noticed like she did, but apparently, they were too busy filling out forms to waste time with that kind of triviality.

"Yes." Michael hooked his arm around Emma's waist. "We were interested in staying a little longer than the service. In fact, we brought stuff to set up camp. Would you be able to show us where we can do that, Shandy? My wife and I would be really grateful." She looked up at him and gave her sweetest smile.

"Yes, we would be so grateful, Shandy. I know coming here was the right thing to do," she declared brightly. "I can feel it down to my very soul. It's the only choice we have left. But enough of that. We're here and we'd like to stay."

"Okay then, I'll get Jeff over here to show you to a vacant spot. Jeff! Please show these people where to set up camp. They're here to become one with The Source."

"Sure. Right this way, please." He led them to the campsite where they could set up their tent and park their car.

The other Brethren spaced themselves inconspicuously amongst the other lines that had formed to speed up registration. Slowly but surely they all made their way to the same campsite where Michael and Emma had been brought, and were placed 'coincidentally' near each other. Everyone was busily setting up their tents and stowing their gear when a voice suddenly could be heard emanating from the surrounding trees. It was Agremon!

"Services will begin in ten minutes. All followers are to make their way to the prayer tent. Again, services will be in ten minutes. All followers are to make their way to the prayer tent."

"Okay, that was creepy." Emma shivered. Michael walked over to give her a reassuring hug.

"Yeah, hearing Agremon's voice all around us definitely ranks up there with all that is creepy. Looking around, I can tell they've got not only speakers in the trees, but security cameras, too. It's not a problem in terms of us getting identified. We're perfectly shielded. It's getting the others out of here unnoticed where those cameras are going to cause a problem."

"Can you guys do anything about them?" she asked as she dug through her bags to start unpacking.

"I'm going to go and tell the others, if they haven't noticed them already. I'm sure Gabriel can do something nifty like set up a loop when we start herding these people out of here. I'll be right back."

"All right, I'll finish unpacking and setting up the tent."

She felt strange, setting up their temporary home with everything in its place, his and hers. Could she dare allow herself to fall for the illusion of this happily married couple down on their luck and looking to The Source as their last hope? Well, it wasn't that far from the truth. Coming here was their last hope to get Hannah back and to purge Namirha and Agremon from their lives.

As far as the married part, well, she still believed in the idea of marriage when two people fell in love. And she believed she had fallen in love with Michael. But she certainly didn't want to believe in something that would probably fall apart when this whole ordeal was done and over with. _Strong emotional situations lead_ _to quick fiery relationships that soon fizzled out._ Well, that reason wouldn't hold. She'd known Michael for six years. They worked together, side by side, on many projects and were a great team. _Yes_ , she countered herself, _but you've only truly_ _known all about him for four days! And the biggest issue of them all is he's immortal! You're certainly not going to live forever. How's that for a kick in the pants?_

As she held this silent battle, she nibbled at her bottom lip again, inadvertently folding and refolding the same shirt. She heard the swoosh of the tent door and looked up. Michael stood in the doorway, holding the flap back.

"I have to admit I've been spying on you."

"You have? How very sneaky of you. And what dark secrets have you uncovered?"

"No secrets, I'm afraid, but I have come to one conclusion." He walked in and sat down on the cot next to her.

"Oh really, what is that?" She shifted a bit to give him more room.

"If there was a contest for best shirt folder, I think you'd win hands down."

"What? Oh, ha, look at that. I, um, well. All right, I've got nothin'." She laughed her worry off and quickly changed the subject. "Did you talk to the others? Is everyone set?"

"Yes, everything is fine and the Saviors and Protectors are readying themselves to get as many newcomers as possible to leave the site. It's going to be tricky making sure others don't notice the departures. But with the service about to begin, I think everyone headed towards the prayer tent should be distraction enough."

Emma put the shirt away and picked up Hannah's picture. "God, Michael! We've got to find her. I can't take being separated from her much longer. I feel like a part of me has been cut away."

"I do, too, honey. I do, too." With conviction clear in his voice, he continued, "We'll find her. I know it." He reached out to hold the picture while he put an arm around Emma. Suddenly, both felt a jolt of energy so strong it should have knocked them to the ground, but instead, it sealed them to the picture and to each other. A bright light surrounded them and they heard Hannah's voice.

_Mother! Michael! I'm here and I'm safe. I'm in the dark green tent next to the prayer tent._ And then, just as suddenly, the light faded away, leaving them holding the picture of Hannah in their white-knuckled hands.

"Holy crap!" Emma cried out.

***

Michael gave her a cautionary look and the quiet signal.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "This Trinity business is freaking me out. But she's here and she's safe. I almost can't believe it. You did hear her, too, didn't you? It wasn't my imagination. You heard her, too, right?"

"Yes, I did. This is great. We now have a connection to Hannah. Let's go." He took her by the hand and they walked out of their tent as though going to the prayer service. They followed her directions as well as the thread that now connected all three together.

There was a definite buzz in the air as they walked through the camp. As expected, newcomers gave off waves of excitement, trepidation, and desperation. Followers gave off a very different energy; waves of subjugation, faith, and of all things, collective thought. That was deeply disturbing, and something that needed discussion when the Brethren were all together.

Michael noticed the other teams already making a dent in the crowd going to the prayer tent. It was obviously easier to keep newcomers from entering than to get followers out of thrall and to safety. Given how many newcomers there were, just this morning, this would have a huge impact on their success later. But still, there were far too many getting by. Mindful of security cameras, he walked over to Gabriel and Urie.

"Hey, we found Hannah, or rather she found us. Anyway, she's okay. We're going to her now, but as far as all of these hordes of people, do you think we could find a way to mask this place so no more people can get in?"

"That's an awesome idea," Urie considered. "But if we did that, we'd have nothing left of ourselves to give Hannah and our troops when they come. Besides, that would be the biggest red flag ever letting Namirha know we were here."

"Wait a minute," Gabriel interjected. "Maybe we can set something in place that will control the amount of people that come in, you know, like to reduce the flow. If we could let maybe every tenth person enter, we would drastically reduce the amount of people we need to usher back out. It wouldn't take that much energy for that. Urie, come back to the tent with me. I've got an idea where I can locate the proper incantation. Oh, and I'll be able to set up a loop on those security cameras, no problem."

Michael walked back over to Emma who was surveying the area as though her life depended on knowing exactly where everything was located. Well, it did actually, so she definitely got points for recognizing that. "Why are they going back to their tent?" she asked.

"We've got a way to reduce the amount of people coming in today. I don't have to tell you what that means."

"Nope. Better odds for us. I like it. I hope it works." She walked further into the site, her hands banging against her thighs in a steady pattern. "I can't stand it anymore. Let's get her, Michael. I need to hold my daughter, now."

He nodded, and without another word, they walked quickly along pathways that circled the prayer tent. There were many tents and campers of all shapes and sizes set up, all unoccupied at this point given that the prayer service was about to begin. There was one tent, though, that stood out from the rest. It was a deep green color and larger than the rest.

"This is it, Michael! I know it," she whispered excitedly. They were about fifty yards away from it now. She pulled on his arm trying to run towards it.

"We can't just go barreling in there. Stop, Emma! Calm down and think." He tugged back and grasped her securely in his hands.

"Jesus, I'm sorry," she sputtered, shaking her head as if to clear the mess away. "I need to get to her. I'm desperate."

"I know, sweetheart. But we gotta play it cool, now. We're almost there, so look sharp. I'll go first. When I signal you, come quickly."

"I'll do as you say, I promise." She took a couple of deep breaths, shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her hands over her face. And then she signaled to Michael that she was ready.

"Here goes," he muttered, and he was off.
Chapter Twenty-One

The coast was clear. Michael waved Emma to come forward as he watched for any signs of Agremon or other henchmen that Namirha probably had nearby. But the place seemed deserted. He listened by the tent's opening as she scurried next to him. He heard voices. One was definitely Hannah's, the other a woman's.

He put his finger to his lips to make sure she stayed silent and motioned that he was going in, alone. She nodded. His Brethren speed assured a quick and silent entrance. He immediately put the woman to sleep with the touch of his hand to her forehead. Hannah remained quiet while he whispered for Emma to come in.

She rushed inside and scooped Hannah up into her arms before Michael could even blink. Hannah clung to her mother. Her smile reached her contented eyes, and she showered Emma with kisses, receiving just as many back.

"Oh, my dear angel, I'm so glad you're okay. I've been worried sick about you. We had no idea what had become of you. Oh, thank God you're alive. Thank God," she murmured incessantly in Hannah's ear.

"Mother, Michael, we have to talk quickly. I've a lot to tell you." They sat on her cot together and she continued, sharing everything Namirha had planned; everything that she had culled from his evil mind. "One other thing; I have to stay with him."

"Are you out of your mind? We came here to get you out of his reach! Michael, talk some sense into her, please!" she begged, grabbing his arms. He didn't say anything. He stood there with a look that told her she was outnumbered in terms of opinion.

"If we take her now, he'll know we were here and took her."

"Why can't it just be that she wandered off and ran away? You put her guard to sleep, for heaven's sake. That supplies reason enough for Hannah leaving the tent."

"He would still wind up sending his minions out to locate her, and when they found her, he'd tighten security that much more." Michael rubbed a hand over his face, barely hiding his grimly set lips. "No, Hannah's right, unfortunately. She has to stay." And then, his voice brightened suddenly. "Wait a second. We created a binding thread between the three of us with the picture. I know it flowed one way before, but with us all together now, we can create a stronger thread that goes both ways so that we can basically talk to each other."

"I still don't like her staying here," Emma scoffed gruffly. "But if this is how it's gotta be, then how do we go about creating a threaded link?"

"Well, let's all hold hands and I'll do the rest," Michael suggested. As their hands closed around each other's, the power of the Trinity ignited. A pulsing energy flowed through all three like an electric circuit. As Michael spoke the sacred incantation, his lips moved, but he made no sound. Threads of light wrapped around their hands, binding them together, and slowly faded into their skin.

"I'm feeling a warmth seeping into my hands," Emma noted, "like toasty, warm gloves on a snowy day."

However, it was not a snowy day. It was a toasty one-hundred-two degrees at the moment, which Michael knew was making the creation of the link quite uncomfortable for everyone involved. He saw Hannah wince ever so slightly, but put on a brave warrior front, and didn't say a peep. No sooner than it had started, the task was complete. Michael saw the relief wash over mother and daughter.

"Oh, Michael, Namirha gave this to me as a gift. I haven't worn it yet. Can you look at it and tell me if I can wear it and still be safe? It looks like some kind of an amulet to me." Hannah held up a necklace that looked similar to his talisman but with different inscriptions on both sides.

"Let me have it and I'll tell you." He reached for it and closed his eyes as he held it in his hands. Hannah watched as creases formed between his brows. "It's a talisman, made by him." He continued his assessment. "There is one layer of power that is a standard protective shield, then an additional layer of power wrapped around that. A dark power meant to wrap around your heart and mind in order to isolate you from the Brethren and your mother." He opened his eyes and look deeply into Hannah's.

"It is strong, but I'm stronger." He waved his right hand over the amulet and it trembled, then stopped. "I've destroyed the thread. It's safe now. It was meant to control you. You can wear this now without fear, but understand, he expects you to behave as though you were under his control."

"Understood, thanks," Hannah replied.

"Well, now what do we do?" Emma asked, biting her nails. Michael could see she was a bit rattled by the business-like manner in which her daughter spoke and rubbed her arm.

"You two go to the prayer service." Hannah hugged her mother one more time. "Keep an eye on who the key people are working for Namirha. I'll stay here and continue doing whatever a six-year-old would do while keeping an eye on him. When you or I know anything, we'll make contact. Make sure my warriors know where I am and that I'm all right. Have someone come here to create a threaded link with me as well. Don't worry; nothing's going to happen to me until my birthday. We still have four days to carry out our plans."

Emma walked out first, but not before turning one more time to look at her daughter. Hannah smiled back. Michael woke up the woman, making sure she would think she'd dozed off from boredom.

***

Together, they walked back to the prayer tent, and as they entered the huge circus-like structure, she tensed. "Are you sure we're shielded? We can't be detected?" she whispered.

"Yes Emma, I'm sure. We're protected, I promise. We appear to be like any other person here. Let's grab a seat and watch an immortal madman at work." She felt his reassuring hand in hers as they looked for a good place to sit.

They found two seats near the back mixed in with lots of newcomers, perfect for being inconspicuous, and they watched and listened. Namirha stood on a stage lavishly dressed with richly textured fabrics of red and black. Candelabras rose tall on either side, and behind them hung a huge red and gold painted pentagram suspended from invisible wires. A knife that had something carved into its blade suspended beneath that. In front of the pentagram sat six chairs occupied by three men and three women dressed in red robes. Center stage was Namirha, dressed in a black satin robe with a red collar.

Emma shivered as she looked upon the monster who planned to sacrifice her daughter on their birthday. _Not in this life or ever._ Her nails dug viciously into her clenched fists. There was no podium for him to stand before. He walked back and forth across the stage vigorously, waving his arms in fervent gestures to emphasize some point he was making. She decided to listen to the madness.

"I know how you are feeling. Times are tough, my children, no jobs, no homes, no real God to pray to any longer. Your God has forsaken you because He has fallen from grace himself!" At that moment, Namirha pointed to the sky. "That's right! He has failed you all and disobeyed The Source's commandments. Yes, your God bows down to another! The Source is angry that your God would allow such strife to befall you." He pointed out to the audience, one person at a time. "How careless and irresponsible of Him to let so many of you lose your jobs and homes that took years to acquire while working your fingers to the bone." He clasped his hands together as if in prayer.

"Don't worry my children, for He will be punished for his sins and The Source shall take care of you now." He jumped down off the stage and started running through the crowd, stopping every now and again to look people directly in their eyes. "Who is The Source, you wonder? Can he really save me, you hope?" He threw his arms up wildly into the air. "I am here, my children, welcoming you home to The Source, because I am The Source! I am the one and only! All others bow down to me, and you, my children, will benefit the most from coming home today. Behold the gifts that await you. And there's more when you pledge your faith and souls to me."

Namirha jumped back up on stage and spoke to the group of people sitting on the stage with him. They all got up at the same time, took bags from under their chairs, and began to circulate around the audience. Emma leaned side to side, standing on her tiptoes, trying to see what they were passing out, but she was too short. She looked over at Michael, who was having no problem looking over the heads of the congregants.

"They're passing out hundred dollar bills, along with medallion necklaces; just like the one he gave to Hannah."

"No wonder these people are going crazy." She shook her head. "Emma, their minds are being controlled by wearing those amulets of his making. So he's not as strong as he was the last time we clashed. Very interesting. No wonder he wants Hannah so desperately. He's losing his powers."

"Hmmm. Mr. All-Powerful is not so much, eh?" she quipped.

More of his followers came from behind the stage to help give out the money and the medallions to the frenzied mob. People all around Emma pushed and shoved each other to reach for whatever they could get and put the necklaces on without a thought.

"They're blinded by the almighty dollar," Emma snorted in disgust. "Yup. He knows what he's doing. He's buying their souls."

Michael and Emma took the money and the medallions so they wouldn't seem out of place. They pretended to put the medallions on, but really dropped them to the floor. Their own talismans would serve as a look-alike. When the money ran out and medallions hung from everyone's necks, Namirha spoke again.

"My children, if you want a better life than what you have now, then you must give yourself to The Source. Have faith that The Source will provide for all of your needs and you will hunger no more." At this point his voice changed from a normal man's voice to something beyond evangelical, something dark and sinister and base. "Give yourself to The Source, to me! Let your souls link with mine and you shall be rewarded!"

Namirha raised his arms and reached out over the crowd as if to touch them. His eyes glowed fiery red, and he babbled in what she could only describe as gibberish. She shuddered and Michael grabbed her hand in comfort. She knew he was having no real affect on the two of them, but what was happening was so unnerving, and they couldn't do anything but play along.

Almost at once, everyone in the audience gasped, so they gasped. Then the rest of the group spoke in unison, "Our souls are yours to command. We live to serve The Source, our one true Master."

"Well, isn't this just great," she whispered. "We're now surrounded by hundreds of people that share a collective mind. And all who are here will serve that lunatic up there. Not very comforting at all."

"Don't worry. The Brethren will take care of it. Trust me."

On stage, Namirha collapsed, and the six people who remained on the stage collected him and whisked him away.

"Whoa, what's that all about? Curious," she pondered aloud. "He has weaknesses. Weaknesses can be exploited."

"Mark my words," Michael responded fervently. "They will be."

The service was over and everyone was filing out of the prayer tent. Although they looked the same from a distance, Emma and Michael could tell that there was a distinct difference between the people that walked in an hour ago and the people that left now. Their souls were corrupted, taken, absorbed into a collective that would think what Namirha wanted them to think. Emma and Michael mimicked the people's behavior, and made their way back to their campsite.

Safely in their tent, Michael shared first. "We've got to tell the others about everything we saw and heard. What we've just seen shows me we've got a better shot than originally estimated."

"What does that mean? Are you telling me we didn't have a chance in hell of winning here? Cause if that's so, I'm really going to lose it," she spewed, ready for a fight.

"Whoa, easy there, Mama." Michael raised his hands in defense. "You know there are no guarantees here. It's gonna be a hard fight to be sure. He's no slouch in the war department. But he's shown us a weakness we can use to our advantage. We're still gonna have a hell of a fight on our hands but this is good news."

"Well, that's something then." She was mollified for the moment and feeling a bit embarrassed over her sudden violent outburst. Actually being here at the compound was ripping her emotions to shreds. Emma looked at her watch. It was only eleven in the morning. What the heck were they supposed to do now? Just as she was going to ask, their tent door swung open and in walked Cassiel and Raphael. By the time Zadkiel came in there wasn't enough room to even breathe.

"Hey, let's go to our tent," suggested Zadkiel. "It's bigger." "Great idea. We'll follow you."

Once inside the Saviors' tent, they all sat down comfortably on the cots. Zadkiel started in right away. "So, are we ready to do some de-programming?"

"I'm up for it." Raphael slapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously.

Cassiel unsheathed his sword and swung it high above his head. "Let me at 'em! I'm ready."

Michael stood up to cool some hot heads. "Wait, wait. Easy does it. Before we go, Emma and I have some important information to share."

"Oh really? What do you have for us?" Raphael asked.

"You wouldn't believe what we saw at the prayer service. Namirha needs amulets to keep his people in control. How about that! He never needed that before. He gave them out at the prayer service. The people are now wearing them around their necks. He now commands their souls through them. Take off their amulets and I'll bet anything they are free."

"That means Namirha is weaker than we thought. Excellent. He must be craving Hannah's powers something fierce by now."

"Right Cass, plus after he put the whammy on everyone, he actually collapsed on the stage. His helpers had to carry him off."

"Whoa, he collapsed? That's awesome. We're going to have such an upper hand come showdown. All right, anything else, or can we go set some souls free? I'm dyin' over here!" Cassiel whined like a petulant schoolboy and his knees shook with nervous energy.

"You really are too much." Emma shook her head. "No, that's everything."

"Then let's go!" Cassiel jumped to his feet, nearly sending a small camping table flying across the tent floor. "Time's a wastin' and I want to get as many people out of here as possible before the next group comes in."

"Oh! Wait a second. What are Nathanael and the other Warriors doing since they can't guard Hannah?"

"Oh, they're guarding her, Emma," Raphael assured her. "They're keeping a very low profile, blending in with the scenery, if you will. They'll be keeping tabs on all of her movements."

Cassiel held the tent flap open. "All right then, my brothers. Let's go free some souls."

***

As Emma and Michael walked, a thought occurred to him that was not sitting well. Namirha was definitely in a weakened state, but they still had Agremon to contend with. And he was in rare form these days.

Just how powerful had he become? Michael hadn't sensed his presence in a long time. What if he was somehow able to completely shield himself from Brethren detection? That required a tremendous amount of power and if true, definitely cause for serious concern. What if he knew the Brethren were already there? Only time would tell. Michael filed his thoughts away for the time being, and focused his attention on the hundreds of people needing to be relieved of their amulets. It was quite satisfying to know how many lives would be saved this time around. Some of the younger Brethren had concluded that this war would not produce the kind of bloodbath the past war had delivered. But this war hadn't even begun, and Michael, with his vast experience, knew conclusions made too early could spell disaster later.
Chapter Twenty-Two

The six members of the Inner Sanctum had taken Namirha to his tent, where they sat him upon his chair.

"Are you okay, my Lord?" asked one of the members, still wearing his robe.

"Yes, Robert, I'm fine now. My powers sometimes even overwhelm me. All of you should leave me so I can meditate and prepare for the other services."

"Of course, my Lord. If there is more we can do, we will," he replied. He and the rest of the Inner Sanctum left the tent to tend to their duties around the camp.

"Hannah! Helena! Where are you?" Namirha called out. "Here, Father, here. We are in the corner."

"Whatever are you doing there? Why are you hiding from me?" he asked, his cheeks puffed out and reddened.

"I couldn't get Hannah out from the corner, my Lord, so I stayed with her, as you commanded," Helena simpered, crawling out of their hiding spot.

"I was scared, Father. You didn't look well. So, I ran to get out of the way. Please don't be angry, Father, please. Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Don't ever run from me, Hannah. You don't need to fear me or for me, my child. Helena, take Hannah to our home. I need to be alone now." His voice lacked the strength of conviction, and his hands were shaking with need for Hannah's powers, so he hid them within the folds of his robe. Now was not the time to take her. He would have to wait. Although each day closer to her birthday strengthened her gifts, it was her birthday when she would come into her full potential. That's what he needed, nothing else would do.

With Hannah gone, he meditated and restored his energy, though it was not as replete as before. If he collapsed again at the other services, he didn't care. It added to the drama. There were over a thousand people this morning. If this kept up, his army of mortals in this region would certainly be a force to be reckoned with. Combine that with the millions around the world ready to defend evil. He was sure to take over the world this time and send the defenders of the Good to Hell. His waning power had given him pause, though. He wasn't sure if the charmed necklaces would be enough to keep the foolish mortals under his control for the amount of time he needed. And it was getting harder and harder to keep from sacrificing Hannah before she came into her full powers. His plan would only work if he waited until the precise moment of her birthday. Nothing short of perfect would do. Nothing.

***

Agremon had some time on his hands. That never boded well for whoever wound up in his thoughts. Right now, he was thinking about Namirha. Oh, he was happy that he was back in his good graces, but he would never forget the punishment he'd endured yesterday. He had seen Namirha collapse on stage and that gave him pause. Ever-scheming, he devised all sorts of ways to undermine Namirha and reign supreme in the end.

He had a plan coalescing. He was confident he could do it, too. Kill all the Brethren, sacrifice Hannah for her powers and absorb them himself, and take Namirha's place as ruler of all evil. He deserved it after all the time he spent acquiring the girl. Namirha sat on his ass spewing orders all the time. Agremon was fed up and wanted revenge for his fickle Lord and Master.

Pleased with himself, he decided to check on the security cameras. Although Namirha had all the followers in thrall, sometimes a rogue thought flashed through a person that made them take pause and doubt their involvement. It was Agremon's duty to reinforce the idea that they should stay, by any means necessary, lest they create a panic in others and start a domino effect of people leaving the compound. As he walked down the trail that led to the security tent, nobody seemed to be concerned that there was a grotesque monster stalking about. That was part of the thrall in action, and made his job easier. He couldn't very well hide out and do his various tasks effectively, nor did he relish manifesting a disguise that pleased others. He didn't like making people happy or comfortable, and it took valuable energy away.

"Get out of my way, assholes!" he roared as he entered the tent. He immediately shoved the two security officers out of the way, and began looking at the wall of monitors, twelve in all.

"Yes, sir!" they both yelled and scuttled to a corner of the tent farthest away from him.

"Now let me see what's happening. We have lots of newbies here, I see. I wonder how strong that medallion necklace is that Namirha gave 'em. Might be that some folks need a little attitude adjusting. Hmmm, all looks good. Wait a minute, what's this? Son of a bitch! Hey you, Grunt Number One, how long have you and Grunt Number Two been watching these monitors?"

"We got on duty at twelve, sir," Grunt Number One responded.

"And didn't anything look a little strange to you two fuck-ups?" Agremon roared.

Grunt Number One cowered back into a corner. "I—d-don't know what you mean s-s-sir," he stammered.

"Don't you guys know a fucking video loop when you see one? The same people keep passing by every ten or fifteen seconds! Same walk, same motions, same everything! Damn it! You guys are useless. Look, watch the monitor. See anything peculiar?" he asked impatiently.

"Uh, well, no."

"Wait for it," Agremon growled. "Oh."

"Oh. That's all you can say is, oh. You idiotic shit for brains! Get your genius partner over there and get the fuck out before I rip your throats apart and burn you both from the inside out!"

The two men scrambled and fought with each other to be the first out of the tent. This served to make Agremon even angrier, and he wound up incinerating them both on the spot with a quick and strategically targeted, "Ashes to ashes and dust to dust."

_They're here. I bet the Brethren are here. But why the loop? Obviously they're shielding themselves or I would have felt their signatures by now. So what is the_ _loop for? In any case, how fortuitous for me. I can step up my game plan. Why bother waiting for Hannah's birthday?_

He was already stronger than anyone realized. He'd been absorbing the energy of others for centuries now. Nobody knew exactly everything he could do, and nobody would. It was best to keep certain things secret. Whether Hannah's powers were at full strength or not, they were still strong enough for him to take over the world. After all, what difference could four days really make in the scheme of things?

Agremon made his way out of the security tent and back on the trails around the campgrounds. He was determined to find out why the Brethren had set up a loop on his security cameras. It didn't take long to find out.

As he walked the trails, he noticed some empty campsites—sites that previously had been filled with campers and tents. He walked on nearing the registration area and noticed hordes of people driving out of the compound.

What the hell is going on? Why is everyone leaving? How could everyone leave if they're wearing the amulets Namirha gave out at the prayer service?

Furious, he walked up to a station wagon that was inching its way down the driveway towards the main road, and planted himself in front of it with his hand out signaling to the driver to stop. The man behind the wheel and all of his friends looked at him in horror and screamed like girls. The driver put his foot on the gas pedal and floored it, heading straight for him.

_Damn it!_ Agremon thought. He'd forgotten to change his appearance in his haste and anger. _Oh well, what's a few more mortal deaths, anyway?_ He stood his ground and when the vehicle reached him, he simply put his hand on the front bumper and immediately stopped its advance. Tires spun uselessly. He lifted the raging rust bucket, raised it over his head, and threw it to the side like yesterday's trash.

The other cars quickly sped around the horror and even broke gates to get out, not wanting to be the next to suffer the same fate. He walked over and carelessly grabbed one of the broken bodies. He looked around the neck. No necklace. He carelessly threw the carcass aside. He grabbed another battered soul, and again, found no necklace. Where were the amulets?

The Brethren. They're getting to these people and removing them! Brilliant!

He would have applauded their audacity if he weren't so fucking pissed. He needed those people as a shield, to keep The Brethren at bay until he had accomplished his goal. Well, at least he had the followers who needed no such trickery to do as commanded. But now he knew his timetable had changed absolutely. He would take care of things tonight.

Namirha won't know what hit him! The Brethren will be destroyed and he will rule the world! Not bad for a day's work.

He flashed to his cavernous hideaway not far from Namirha's own lair. He had plans to solidify and immortals to rally to his side. And they would rally. They wouldn't care whose side they were fighting on as long as it was the winning side. He'd promise them world domination and they'd be like moths to a flame. And in the end, they would die the same way, for there was no way he would actually share the glory.

***

The Brethren were able to free nearly all of the people who showed up for the first prayer service, and they considered it a huge success. Now Gabriel was assessing the population controls they had in place for the next registration and prayer service. While he was out, the rest congregated in the Saviors' tent.

They were going over numbers while Emma linked in to Hannah's thread to check in on her. Hannah relayed that Namirha had seen the necklace around her neck and looked very pleased. Beyond that, he paid little attention to her. He was preparing for the next prayer service. She was to return to his tent.

Gabriel entered with a major scowl on. "Houston, we've got a problem," he disclosed in a hushed tone.

"What's happened, Gabriel?" Michael stood up.

"Well, I checked the population controls. All's in working order and it's doing a great job. But as I walked down the driveway, I noticed some heavy duty ruts, like those you'd find when tires went spinning madly. Directly in front of it were footprints that were not human. I looked around a bit more and found broken windshield glass lying all around on the grass and blood in that same grassy area. No car, no people."

"Agremon must have noticed the loop on the security cameras and gone investigating," Urie spewed. "Gabriel, what's going on here? Why the hell aren't we sensing him?"

"He's gaining strength and power." Gabriel rubbed his stubbled face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So, now what do we do?" Emma asked, feeling way out of her league as the Brethren plotted.

"We alert the Warriors," said Urie. "We need their troops at the ready. Have them move closer to Hannah. Agremon could be disguised as anybody or himself. They have to keep a close watch on who's going into that tent. We also need a team in the Prayer Tent with Namirha. We don't know if Agremon's told him yet. Beyond that, I think we should wait and see if either makes a move."

"I agree. We don't know for certain that he's found us out," Zadkiel concurred. "I mean, we're shielded. He can't trace a thread to any of us. If anything, he's going on suspicion. He's going to have to do some searching, and we all know he won't find us."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss his intellect," Michael warned. "You know he's near genius. I wouldn't put it past him to have put two and two together even without tangible proof of our existence here. We can't afford to be complacent. Might I remind you of our last war waged?" The Brethren all dropped their heads down. "Complacency lost many lives for us, mortal and immortal alike. I say we assume the worst case scenario and plan accordingly."

"I agree," Emma chimed in. "I'll tell Hannah right now. She'll be able to sense a shift in Namirha's plans. And she can tell her warriors."

"All right then. Emma and I have already been to the Prayer Tent, so we'll start working on followers who don't have amulets. Cassiel, you and Zadkiel go to the Prayer Tent. Follow the people out, and then start removing the necklaces," Michael ordered. "Meet back here by four o'clock."

"Roger that." Cassiel left the tent with Zadkiel.

"Gabriel and Urie, you'll be with Emma and me on follower detail. Why don't you start on the west end and we'll start on the east end? Hopefully we'll have enough time and meet in the middle."

"Got it," Gabriel replied.

Emma's head was spinning and her stomach churned as she watched the Brethren move out like a pack of wolves. She had a feeling it wasn't going to be easy. Incantations could unlock the binding chains, but free will was a whole other matter. Having studied social psychology in college, Emma knew that their choice, their free will was keeping them faithful.

And that was more dangerous than anything.

Could the Brethren truly turn the followers away from evil? Would they be able to reach the followers' hearts as well as their minds and truly free them from their dark servitude?

Michael reached for Emma's hand as they began their walk to the far eastern end of the encampment. She gladly accepted the peaceful contentment his touch provided. His smile told her that her touch, in turn, had provided him with the reassuring feelings of deep and profound love. If she closed her eyes, Emma could almost pretend they were alone in the desert, wandering through ancient ruins, two people in love, holding hands. But the truth of it was too far from the dream, and she couldn't escape it even for a couple of moments.

Michael remained silent next to her. The tension in his hands increased. His left hand curled into a tight fist and his right was doing its damnedest to do the same.

"Ow! Hey there! I don't have these babies insured yet, so can you lighten up on the grip, big guy?" Emma joked. But then she noticed his shadowed expression.

"Oh, God! I'm so sorry!" Michael massaged her palm and fingers and kissed them all gently.

"Michael, what's the matter?" Emma stopped and turned him to her. "Tell me so I can try to fix it."

"You can't, Emma. This you can't fix."

"How do you know if you don't share with me what's going on inside you?" she countered. "I can tell you've shielded your mind from me, so the only thing I can read is your face and your body language. That tells me whatever you're feeling's got to be really bad." He looked around, brought her over to one of the Palo Verde trees near their path, and spoke in a hushed tone.

"If you must know, I've been doubting my boss's motives in all of this. Ever since Beth and the baby, actually. Oh, I've worked for him and done my job to the letter ever since. I mean a contract is a contract, and I signed on to this task knowing full well it was for eternity. But with you and Hannah, there've been too many hiccups in our plans. We constantly have to readjust them. We've never had to do that before, never.

"So I find myself doubting him more and more, wondering what screwing around with our plans accomplishes in the long run. Is he somehow in league with Namirha after all these millennia of opposing him? If so, to what end? Who is he willing to sacrifice for Good to be victorious in this current generation's war? Will he take you, Hannah, or both of you away from me? Will he take countless, nameless loved ones from their own families, as well?

"I don't want to lose you, either one of you. I couldn't bear it. My wavering faith in my boss is allowing dark thoughts to seep into me, and I know, should anything happen to you, I could easily turn, like Agremon did, and not feel the least bit of remorse."

Emma was silent, shocked by Michael's admission. She chose her words carefully. "I don't think there's anyone who hasn't second-guessed or doubted a decision their boss has made at one point or another. And I know that E.L.'s decision unfortunately changed your life forever. But if the other Brethren remain unwavering in their support of him, I have to think there must be something to it. Open your heart, and release your anger and resentment towards him. I truly believe that only then will this darkness that's threatening to invade you disappear. Let me help you. Don't fight me on this. If you can't let this go, then I think it could actually hinder our job here today."

Michael took her face into his hands and kissed her sweetly. "Okay," he whispered. "You win. But we can't very well do this here, out in the open. We're not far from our tent. Let's go back there, do what you have to do, and then let's free these people."

Back in their tent, he lay on his cot. Emma placed one hand on his heart and another on his head, stroking his hair gently. She closed her eyes and began the delicate process of unknotting the intricate threads of guilt, resentment, and fury. He winced and his body jolted, fighting, she believed, against the release of these emotions that had sustained him for centuries.

She increased the pressure of her hand over his heart, breathed deeply, and absorbed the emotions that were finally loosening from their tethers. She wept bitter tears, her body shook with the intensity of his fury, and three words escaped her lips in an unearthly voice. "You shall pay."

Then all was quiet, body and spirit. Emma took a few cleansing breaths and opened her eyes to find him staring at her. "Are you all right?" she asked tentatively. He said nothing, just kept staring at her. "Michael, are you all right? Say something, anything! Let me know you're okay!"
Chapter Twenty-Three

"Oh God, Michael, please say something!" Emma was frantic. Why wasn't he responding to her? And how could she undo what she'd done? She needed Raphael. He would know what to do. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get Raphael. He'll know how to fix the mess I've made. Stay right there. Don't move," she whispered as calmly as she could, but on the inside she was absolutely torn apart. She had this dreadful feeling she'd done something irreparable.

She turned to go when suddenly, his arm shot out and his hand grabbed at her leg.

"Don't go, please," he begged.

"Michael! Honey, are you all right?" She captured his face in her shaking hands.

He lifted his own to steady hers. "I feel...I feel free," he professed incredulously.

"Lord Almighty!" Emma gushed. "I thought I had...well, you don't want to know what I thought I had done to you!"

He jumped up from the bed and grabbed her for a dizzying, twirling hug. "I'm truly released from pain for the first time since Beth and the baby were taken from me. My mind is free of dark thoughts and filled with forgiveness and understanding. I'm sensing a renewed sharpness to my focus and an intensification of my energy. I'm alive, thanks to you!"

Emma smiled broadly as she looked at him with joy and accomplishment. He kissed her passionately for a good long while, breaking away only to lavish more over her throat, leaving her breathless and with a racing heartbeat pulsing under his lips.

"I love you, Emma," he professed, sounding intoxicated. "God, I love you so much!"

"I love you, too, Michael, so very, very much," she responded as she drew his face up to meet hers. "We've got a job to do now, if you're up to it. As much as we want each other right now, we've got people out there who don't even know they're counting on us to save them and protect them from Evil."

Emma knew he was sexually frustrated at the moment. The bulge in his pants wasn't a banana and the tiny beads of sweat along his pursed lips told her she better step away. But the better part of valor won out as he nodded and leaned his forehead against hers. "To be continued, then, my love."

"To be continued, my angel," she whispered sweetly and showed him what her promise held. When she released him, he sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then scrubbed his cheeks with his hands.

"If you would get that raunchy picture of me naked in your bed out of your mind right now, mister, it would make it easier to save these innocent people here. Remember them?" He turned around, surprise and guilt written all over his face. "Yeah, I can do other things besides heal people now. I can read your mind, too, remember? So get it out of the gutter and back on the important stuff." She gave him one of her patented death stares only a mother can give and waved him on.

Releasing the followers from Namirha's grasp proved to be more difficult than Emma had anticipated. Those who were single, alone but for the community of other cult members, were irretrievable. Luckily, those who had families were easier to deprogram; perhaps because they possessed the innate need to keep their loved ones away from danger. The Brethren were hoping for complete removal of mortals from the battlefield, planning for their efforts to be ineffective, and were winding up somewhere in the middle.

***

Namirha was rankled. A hapless lizard, crawling by his foot, received an untimely death with a well-placed zap. His second registration statistics were abysmal. It looked as though the first prayer service might very well be the only one to yield any mortal fodder. And where had his regular followers been? Surely they knew that attendance at all prayer services was mandatory! If the final prayer service turned out to be the same as the last, heads were going to roll. He huffed and puffed, pacing across his tent while his Inner Sanctum gazed on with indifference.

"Agremon!" He didn't appear. "Agremon! Where is that damned creature?" he muttered. Namirha was beginning to sense something was awry. He turned to his Inner Sanctum. "Go around the encampment, check on things, and bring me any followers who appear suspicious. I want to know why many of the followers didn't show up for the last prayer service and what's going on with registration. And if any of you see Agremon, tell him to get his ass over here immediately. Report back to me by three-thirty. Go!"

If Agremon had had anything to do with this, his last punishment would seem like a trip to Disneyland.

***

Hannah reached out to everyone. Although she was back at Namirha's lair deep in the abandoned mine, she could still sense him strongly. And what she sensed unsettled her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, catching the threads of her people and spoke to them through her mind.

I have news. It is not good. Namirha is furious over the poor showing at the last prayer service. Agremon can't be found, and Namirha's getting wise to the idea of others thwarting his efforts. Right now, he has a suspicion that it's his right hand demon. He still doesn't detect us, but it is only a matter of time before he puts things together. He has his Inner Sanctum scoping out the encampment for resistance and tasked them with bringing any resistant followers to his tent. They are also looking for Agremon. They need to return to Namirha with their findings by three-thirty, just before the last prayer service.

We need to locate that demon. I'm getting a strong sense that plans are starting to shift. Namirha is weakening with every service and is fighting with himself to keep from sacrificing me sooner than my birthday. He seems to think that to sacrifice me now would do him no good. But I can sense his desperation grow hour by hour. I must go now, Helena returns.

The connection was broken and all were left to ponder what their next move should be. With Nathanael and Seraphiel watching over Hannah's movements, Kemuel decided to head back to the encampment to lend his voice to the ever-changing plans.

"Well, we've done the best we could to rid this place of mortals. I say we wait until Namirha starts his four o'clock prayer service, get Hannah out of his reach, and take him down, right there and then. He'll be so occupied with his ranting that he won't notice us until it's too late."

"Not a bad idea, Cass." Kemuel nodded and considered. "He won't have an opportunity to call his immortal minions, then. The more I think on it, the more I like it."

Emma raised her hand. "I'm for anything that gets Hannah out of his clutches and ends this nightmare once and for all."

"I'll go tell the other warriors of our plans. It's almost time for the service. Better get in position. This is it, folks. No turning back. Good luck, brothers and Mother. We shall remain victorious!" Kemuel left and everyone else mobilized for the assault.

***

Hannah prepared herself for Helena's return. She was an insufferable woman who smothered and babied, but she was easily pliable, and that worked to the Ancient Warrior's advantage. Her companion came in and took up residence on a chair by the tent's entrance.

"Well, I see you have your coloring book and crayons all set up. How lovely. Now, I'm going to sit here and read my book, so if you need me, I'm right here."

"Thank you, Helena." No sooner had she started drawing yet another bunny, a visitor came. Agremon. As he barged into the room he pushed Helena so hard, she slammed against the wall beside her and slumped to the floor unconscious.

_Why am I not sensing him at all?_ He broke through her musings with a booming command, "We're going to a party, Gnat. Come."

"No." If he was going to call her a gnat, she was going to live up to that name and be a pest.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you right. Did you say no? His nostrils flared and his hands curled into fists.

"Yes, I said no. I don't wanna go. I'm fine here drawing. Does Father know you're here? He's gonna be angry about what you did to Helena."

Agremon charged forward and picked her and the chair she was sitting on up in the air. "I don't need dear old Pappy's permission to do anything. You listen to me, you little wart on a pig's behind, you're coming with me. And don't even bother screaming or doing anything stupid like that. I've had you shielded since I walked in so no one knows the wiser."

The Ancient Warrior knew when to give in and play along, and this was the moment. Whatever he had in store for her, she'd be taking notes to use to her advantage at another opportune time.

"Okay, Agremon, you win. I'll go. But I'm not gonna like it. And the first chance I get, I'm gonna tell."

"Yeah, all right. You tell. Shout to the world! It won't matter anyway. We're celebrating your birthday a little early and wait till you see your present. Nice knowin' ya kid."

He let the chair loose, held onto Hannah and flashed them away.

***

Kemuel raced through the rough mountain terrain as quickly as his immortal legs could carry him. Time was of the essence. He was nearly at the opening of the abandoned mine, no more than a few minutes from where the other warriors were hiding out, when suddenly, a dark shadow appeared menacingly in front of him. Before he could even fathom what it could be, it drifted over and around him, but could not get closer than about five feet, thanks to all his protection shields. He reached for his sword and began swiping at the shapeless form surrounding him. But it yielded no positive results. And then he heard a familiar voice emanate from the ever-shifting shadow.

"Well, if it isn't Brother Kemuel. It's been a while. Come for a visit, have you? Well, it seems you've arrived a little too late. I was just on my way out. You see, I'm taking a...friend out for a little celebration in her honor. It should prove to be quite the party of the century. Am I right, Hannah?" Agremon sneered.

"Kemuel!" Hannah screamed. He thrust his sword in frustration until he sensed that her scream was for show, for Agremon's benefit. She sent Kemuel a quick, clear message that she was very much in control, and plotting what her next move would be. "Well, Agremon. What's the fun of a party if there are no guests?" Kemuel goaded. "I should think you'd want a big crowd. I could arrange that, you know. A reunion of sorts could prove to be quite interesting."

"Sorry, old foe. This party's for two, but when it's over, you can be assured that I will take you up on that reunion. I should love to hear what everyone's been up to since our last meeting, so to speak. For now, though, I wanted to let you know that I have plans, big plans. Very soon, Namirha will be working for me. Later." The shadow disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

Kemuel raced towards the mine opening. He wondered how no one could sense Agremon taking Hannah. The only plausible but disturbing answer was that he had gained more powers than anyone knew of over the years. He was quickly met by Nathanael and Seraphiel running toward him.

"Hannah's presence is no longer in Namirha's lair," Nathanael said.

"I know. I just had a shadowy visit from the asshole. He has her, damn it. We can trace her thread to where he's taken her. He said something about having a celebration. I know it sounds crazy, but I think he wants to do the sacrifice himself! Tonight! We must call in the troops, now. With the nifty tricks Agremon's got, Namirha is no longer the biggest threat. Agremon is!" With that decided, they ran back to the encampment to alert the others.

***

Back inside the warrior's tent, all sat around while Gabriel reminded them of how, where and when the blood ritual was supposed to happen.

"Now, we know when it's supposed to take place and that Agremon's blown that scheme out of the water. But what's also important to remember is that it can only be done with a specific ritual knife. The one in the Prayer Tent looks like it could be the one. And the ritual must take place at precisely 6:06 pm on a stone slab that has been ritually prepared for the event. This stone slab, has anyone seen anything resembling such a thing around here? It should be out in the open, preferably a raised area." Everyone shook their heads.

"We've been all throughout the encampment area. No stone slabs to be seen anywhere." Kemuel paced the floor and stopped. "What about the mountain itself? Maybe he's got something going on further up the mountain."

Emma raised her voice, asserting herself for the first time as a member of the team. "Before we go scattering ourselves about this place, remember, we can follow her thread. Hannah will lead us to her and Agremon. We have to have faith."

"Her connections have been inconsistent, but she's right," Michael said. "Let's just take a second here to sit and concentrate on Hannah's signature. If she's been able to send out intermittent messages, we may be able to follow them like cookies crumbs. So where is she? Concentrate, everyone."

It was tough going there for a little while. Agremon was very talented with location spells, shields, and diversions. With Michael's help they all reconnected with her thread. As choppy as it was, they were able to get a pretty good read on where the two of them were and that she was well. Hannah was back in the abandoned mine, but in a much deeper section than before, Agremon's lair perhaps. And even that was tentative. They all knew that he could flash in and out of places now and could very well be gone from the mine and turn up halfway around the world before they even took one step.

Nathanael sat on a cot, polishing his sword. "We have to get that knife before he does. After the prayer service is done, when Namirha leaves the stage and everyone is busy leaving, I'll grab it."

"Perfect. Go now, the service is almost over." Kemuel gave him an extra sheath to carry. "The rest of us will start readying our weapons and making a strong connection to our troops." He turned and addressed Emma. "When the battle begins in earnest we communicate with only our minds. It's most effective that way."

Emma nodded her understanding. She got up and walked to the tent's opening.

"Where are you going?" Michael asked.

"I'm just going back to our tent for a minute. I need to check on a couple of things."

"I'll go with you."

"No, no, it's all right," she answered brightly. "You stay here and do what you Brethren do. I'll be fine, honest." She leaned into Michael and gave him a light kiss before leaving.

"Uh, Michael," Kemuel prodded. "She'll be back when she's back. Staring at the door isn't going to bring her here any sooner. Now come on, link up with us." Michael turned to the business at hand and linked up with the others.

***

As she stealthily made her way to the Prayer Tent, Emma prayed that she hadn't completely lost her mind. But her decision to go it alone at this point was fueled by her need to save her daughter by any means necessary. She could not turn away from her mission nor let anyone know or they'd have stopped her for sure, especially Michael. Oh, if she made it through this, he was going to kill her! She'd gladly deal with that later. She was about to turn master and disciple against each other to save her daughter. And may they wipe each other off the face of the earth and leave us alone, she thought.

She snuck in the back of the Prayer Tent, not wanting to be seen by Nathanael. She slunk down in a seat and waited for the service to end, occupying herself with looking around. They had indeed done an excellent job of ridding the place of people. Where the first prayer service had standing room only, this one was a quarter filled at best.

Namirha appeared quite agitated and annoyed on stage. She looked past him, at the pentagram hanging down, and then at the space where the knife should have been. _Damn it all! Agremon got to it before Nathanael!_

As followers left the tent and Namirha made his way out of the side door, she darted out and ran around to the side where she would hopefully run into him heading back to his tent. This had to work. There was only one hour left before Agremon would sacrifice Hannah!

Emma saw him. He was a hunched over mass of ashen skin and bones, with a face that reminded her of the frightening wooden African tribal masks she'd seen in a museum. A frail old man, to the untrained eye, maybe. But behind the sunken eyes glimmered pure evil, through and through. He was leaning on a man in a robe as they walked back to his tent. "Mr. Namirha! Mr. Namirha, I must speak with you! It's a matter most urgent! Mr. Namirha!"

At first, he frowned at her. _He's probably shocked at my audacity. Good._ But then his look morphed before her eyes, the frown disappearing in favor of a sickeningly sweet smile.

"An urgent matter, you say, Miss...?"

She paused. Should she divulge who she was right then? Would it jeopardize her plan? She had no choice but to offer her name and replied, "My name is Livingston. And yes, it is a very urgent matter. May I speak with you privately in your tent?" _Breathe, Emma, just breathe._

"Ms. Livingston? That name is so familiar to me. I meet so many people; I bet I've heard your name at a prayer service somewhere. Please, your urgent matter should be shared sitting down in my tent. Come and we'll talk," Namirha coaxed politely. If he knew who she was, he didn't let on. But Emma wasn't foolish enough not to suspect he'd known exactly who she was.

He offered her a chair and his robed helper eased him into a chair at his desk. He dismissed him and turned his attention to her. "So, let's hear about this urgent matter, Ms. Livingston. I must say you've got me intrigued."

"Well, you see, I've come across information regarding a betrayal by one of your people," she began.

"A betrayal, you say? How fascinating!" Namirha replied with the utmost interest. "Do go on."

"Well, you see, Agremon has taken the girl." Emma paused, looking for any reaction. She saw the slightest twitch of an eyebrow. "And that's not all," she pushed on. "He plans on sacrificing her to get her powers, tonight."

"Why, whatever are you talking about Ms. Livingston? What girl, sacrifice, powers? Surely you can't be serious. I run a very clean religious organization here," He sniffed smugly. "You, however, are sounding quite mad."

"Please, Mr. Namirha, we don't have time to play coy, so give up your charade. You know who I really am, as I know who you really are." His smile faded to a hard glare. "You took my daughter from me, and now Agremon's taken her from you. If you're smart, you'll realize that doesn't bode well for your plans. As for me, being Hannah's mother, neither scenario appeals to me in the least, but I would certainly choose having Hannah with you over him any day of the week. He's a loose cannon and wants to murder my child."

She leaned back in her seat and folded her hands on her lap, feeling more confident with each breath she took. "I know you need my daughter. I know you need her power, and it comes from her blood. But one doesn't have to murder to achieve that. I will only allow you to have as much as is absolutely necessary if you get her away from him, tonight, within the hour. And you get the added benefit of dealing with his betrayal. I want from you the promise of getting my daughter back alive and safe from this point on."

"You know who I am? And you still dare to strike a bargain?" he scoffed with raw arrogance. "Your love for your daughter is touching, to say the least, Ms. Livingston. But I don't think you realize the magnitude of what you're offering and its consequences. You think you've got it all wrapped up neat and tidy, but I assure you, there is so much more to this than your daughter's life. She, my dear, is the catalyst for a major shift in world domination."

"She'll be nothing to you if you don't get her away from Agremon. I think I've offered you a very good deal. I just want my daughter back."

"And where are your Brethren friends?"

Emma flinched. _Damn it! Poker is so not my game._

"Oh yes, I know they're here. Very well-shielded, I do give them points for that, but remember who you're dealing with here. Where do they fit into your simple plan?" he stood and circled her, making her feel as if she were his prey. He tested her confidence, but her heart remained steady, her breath calm. She refused to yield.

"They know nothing of this. I chose to come on my own as an act of good faith to you. Whatever it is you have against The Brethren, or they against you, I want no part of it. I simply want my daughter. Time is wasting, Namirha, what do you say? Do we have a deal?" Emma stood her ground against his ever predatory strides.

"You've devised a foolproof bargain, my dear; one that assures your daughter's safety when our deal is done. The only thing you didn't bargain for was yours as well. So, rest assured, your daughter will be safe, but you will have given your life in her stead. Now do we still have a deal, Ms. Livingston?"
Chapter Twenty-Four

"Of course, we have a deal," Emma responded without a moment's hesitation. There was never any doubt she'd put Hannah's life before hers. She hoped Michael would be able to forgive her at some point during his immortal life. She knew better than to expect it while she was alive. "So, now what? Do you know where Agremon could have taken her?" She wasn't about to give up the fact that she'd already known their last position or had powers of her own. It could very well be the only thing to come in handy when the two evils faced off.

"If he's got her, then he's taken her to the mountaintop altar. I had it erected as soon as I found this area. We'll go there now." Emma started to walk out of the tent. "Uh no, Ms. Livingston. We'll go my way. It's quicker." He grabbed her by the arms. "Hang on tight. It'll only take a moment."

Emma thought her body had been completely torn apart, disintegrated and reintegrated within a span of five seconds. Within those five seconds, however, she felt absolutely nothing, no pain, no fear, no joy, no existence. When she realized they had actually traveled to the top of one of the peaks in the mountain range, she came undone. She screamed and her hands did a quick check to make sure all body parts were where they were supposed to be. "Heaven, help me!" she blurted out with relief.

"It's a little too late for that, Ms. Livingston. But let me assure you, you are quite all right. All of your body parts are where they should be. In fact, they are put together quite nicely."

"Ugh!" Emma groaned, disgusted. It was bad enough that his crusty hands had held her through the flashing. "Don't even start, Namirha, I didn't bargain for that! Let's just find my daughter, shall we?"

"Pity, we could actually make a grand family, the three of us," he mused aloud. "I could rule the world, and the two of you could sit around and watch me."

Ignoring him at this point, Emma walked away towards what looked like a clearing. She recognized that they were on flattened ground, but all around her were edges that dropped off to oblivion. Great! No easy way up or down.

She hadn't needed to worry about getting there, but leaving there was another matter entirely. She was counting on Namirha to castrate Agremon and get her and Hannah out of there. If he couldn't, they were stuck without an exit plan. Who goes into something like this without an exit plan?

The further she walked into the clearing, the more she noticed the elaborate setup he'd constructed for the blood ritual. There was a circular formation of stone statues stretching at least twenty feet into the air. It was one thing to be in the midst of ancient stone statues as in Rome or Greece, or even Easter Island, and something completely different when she saw what stood before her.

Grotesque, monstrous, misshapen figures of all manner of beasts glared down upon her. She coughed and wheezed and fell to her knees, not able to get enough air into her lungs. Namirha shuffled over to her nonchalantly and waved his hand over her back. She immediately felt better and stood up. She knew better than to thank him. That would be admitting that she now owed him something, and since she'd already bargained away her life, she figured that was plenty already.

"You and Agremon! You both have a keen sense of the macabre, don't you," Emma balked. He smirked.

"It's not all horror. Take a look in the center of the ring. See the beauty that was carved into a plain slab of stone?" A striking likeness of Hannah's face was carved into each side. "Only the best for our little one, who will lie upon it and give her powerful energy to me. Then I will be able to take my rightful place as ruler of this world for eternity!"

"Easy there, bucko, you don't get to do shit until you get her back. So where is she?" Emma demanded.

"We'll have to wait for Agremon to appear, naturally. He will, too. There's no doubt about that. He knows this is the only place she can be sacrificed, ritually, of course." Emma raised her brow dubiously, but accepted his response. "Let's move off to the side so when he does appear he doesn't go flashing off immediately should he see us."

God, but she hated waiting, and she hated Namirha with every fiber of her being. She prayed silently that Agremon would indeed bring Hannah here. "Can't you keep him here when he does appear? I mean what's the point of being here if you can't trap him and finish him off?" Emma was getting more and more unsettled with this lamebrain scheme of hers.

"Don't worry so, Ms. Livingston. Yes, I can trap him here. And I can do worse, and shall. A bargain is a bargain. I keep my bargains. Now hush and let me concentrate on detecting his threaded signature."

Emma obeyed, as she secretly tried to relocate Hannah's thread herself. She had lost it when they flashed to the ritual site. She detected something faint. It could be her. It was easier to grab the thread when Michael was with her. There was something to be said for the Trinity. As she focused harder on the wisp of a thread, she could tell they weren't in the abandoned mine anymore.

The thread's energy signature was increasing, and suddenly, she felt Hannah as close as a breath away. Emma gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth to silence herself as well as to keep from reaching out to her daughter. Hannah and Agremon were here! It was then that she recognized another fatal flaw to her idiotic plan. The Brethren wouldn't be far behind.

***

"Don't you think Emma should have been back by now?" Raphael was a little miffed. "I mean, what could possibly be taking her this long?"

"I don't know and I don't like it. Not one bit. I'd better go see what she—" "Hey, the knife's gone!" Nathanael swept into the tent like a tornado.

"Agremon must have gotten there before the prayer service began."

"Damn it all!" Kemuel's frustration finally bubbled over and he slammed his water bottle to the ground. "He evades us at every turn. He plays us like we're fools. And we are fools unless we can gain some solid footing here. Damn it all."

"Well, there's only one thing left to do," Gabriel said, closing his laptop. "Let's go get Hannah. We know where she is, and we don't have much time."

"I'll go see what's keeping Emma," Michael said. "Be right back." He hadn't been able to sense Emma's thread for a while now. It was possible to shield one's threaded signature if you wanted privacy. He hadn't thought much of it at first. And he had to admit, it could get pretty disconcerting to have someone's thoughts as well as your own active in one's mind. But now, he had an uneasy notion walking towards their tent. He entered only to find it empty. "Emma?" he called out anyway. "Emma! Damn it!"

He ran back to the warrior's tent. "She's gone!"

"What the hell do you mean she's gone?" Raphael asked. He stood up and confronted Michael. "Gone where?"

"I don't know, Raph, she's just gone." Michael's arms fell to his sides. Confusion struck him. Where could she be? "We've got to find her, now."

Cassiel tossed a few almonds in his mouth and stood up as well. "Can't you feel her thread? I thought you were connected and all with that Trinity thing, you have going on. What gives?"

"Yeah, well she shut me out. That's what gives," Michael snapped. "Her powers are growing."

"Oh that's not good, brother. Agremon's gone, Hannah's gone, and now Emma's gone. You don't think, I mean, could she be that stupid? Do you think she went after them?"

"She's not stupid, Cass! She's a mother who's desperate to save her child. Wouldn't you try something, anything to get her back?" Michael's appeal fell like a lead ball. "All right, so she's stupid and desperate. God willing, she isn't fool enough to get herself killed."

Kemuel stepped up to Michael, putting a hand on his shoulder. "All right, everyone, we're moving out. We know at least where Hannah is, up on that mesa north of the big peak. Who knows, Emma could be with her. Warriors, call up the troops. Have them ready for combat. Let's go!"

Chapter Twenty-Five

From what Emma could see from her vantage point, Agremon had tied Hannah's hands behind her back. When she shifted a bit to get a better look, she found that he'd also attached a collar around her neck and a leash attached to that. He pulled her like a dog towards the stone slab altar. She couldn't stop her impulses to run to her daughter, but Namirha's strong hold settled her back in her spot, silently conveying he had it all under control.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? You're starting the party without me?" Namirha quickly waved his hand to secure Agremon to the very spot where he stood. For all his efforts, he couldn't pick up his feet, and his arms were sealed to his sides. "Don't you know how rude that is? In fact this party's not supposed to happen until Thursday, isn't that right, Hannah? Your birthday is on Thursday. You must have gotten your dates wrong, Agremon. Tell me you got the dates wrong, and I shall not punish you too severely."

Agremon roared and shook with rage. "Father, I'm so glad you're here!" Hannah cried out. "I knew you wouldn't let him hurt me, I just knew you wouldn't!" She ran to Namirha, leash dragging on the ground but stopped short.

Emma watched as she turned her way, and for a brief moment, they locked eyes. Namirha saw the brief exchange between mother and daughter and quickly grabbed hold of Hannah. "Remember our deal, Emma," he intimated, and thrust Hannah into her arms.

"I remember, Namirha," she replied bravely, hugging her daughter for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

"What's he talking about, Mama?" Hannah asked.

"It's nothing to worry yourself about right now, my angel. Just be happy that you're out of Agremon's clutches," she hedged dismissively.

She quickly untied Hannah's hands and removed the collar from around her neck, checking all the while for any injuries. Hannah's neck was red from chafing, as were her wrists. Emma unobtrusively waved her hands over the reddened areas and sent her healing warmth. Since they were minor, it took a fraction of a moment to return her abraded skin to normal.

"I shall not be denied, Namirha!" Agremon snarled. "I shall succeed where you have failed! I shall destroy all and reign over the universe and you will bow down to me!" He struggled against his invisible bindings and tore his arms away from his body, then used both hands to tear his legs from their moorings. Namirha raised an eyebrow at his prowess. He'd managed to get one leg free when Namirha spoke.

"My, but you've become a bucking bronco. You know what they do to broncos, don't you? They break their spirit! They squeeze the life out of them! Just like what I am going to do to you." Namirha reached a hand out towards his henchman, and as he did so, it formed into a boa constrictor that slowly made its way up and around the leg still attached to the ground, then circled around his waist. "And when I'm finished, you'll know who is Master and Ruler of the universe. Me!"

Before Namirha could finish what he'd begun, the ground beneath them suddenly shook and pulsed like a heartbeat, or a drum. Everyone froze. Namirha's arm, distracted by the sound, recoiled back to its normal state.

Looking victorious, Agremon crowed, "Ah! Do you recognize that sound? It's the sound of the last few seconds of your life. Your death toll. My minions have arrived!" He pulled his other leg free and loped to the mesa's edge. "My insurance that Hannah's blood will be spilled this evening for my own glory has arrived."

"Your minions? You must be delirious. I am their ruler and I hold dominion. I called to them, and they came for me not for you, you sorry excuse for a demon."

"We shall see who they call master in a few short moments," Agremon taunted.

The two circled around each other like lions ready to pounce. Emma walked up to the edge with Hannah in tow, only to find a darkness encroaching on the mesa from as far as the eye could see, a darkness teaming with all forms of undead and immortal demon-kind. She shivered and held Hannah close. So it was really happening. The war between Good and Evil was about to begin. Emma wasn't religious by nature, more spiritual than anything else. But today, that didn't seem to matter. _God help us all,_ she prayed.

With Hannah temporarily forgotten, Emma and she could inch themselves further away from the two. They daren't speak aloud, only with their minds.

Agremon has the knife sheathed and strapped to his back, Mama. The scary things down below were called by Agremon, not Namirha. So, Namirha is bluffing.

Hannah, Namirha is going to keep Agremon from slaughtering you, and he's not going to murder you either.

The Brethren are coming.

"Crap!" Emma swore aloud. Back inside her mind, she told Hannah of her plans for the two to annihilate each other before any Brethren showed up. It looked like it was actually working, too, although, the minions below them had Emma's stomach trembling like a nest of angry bees.

"Hannah, darling, why don't you come by your father and lay on, I mean sit at the table of honor."

"I don't think so, Daddy darling."

"Oh, you do hurt me so, Hannah. After all I've done for you since we've met," Namirha scolded icily, "I would have expected a little more obedience."

"You were expecting this to make me your dog, hmm?" the Ancient Warrior retorted while stripping his amulet from her neck. "Not a chance."

"Namirha, aren't you forgetting something? You can't do the ritual without the knife. Gee, I wonder who has the knife," Agremon goaded. "Oh yes, I remember! I do! She's mine, Namirha, I worked too hard to get her, and no one can stop me from taking what's mine. Come here, girl. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just going to..."

"Slice and dice me for your dinner? You really need to take up vegetarianism. It's much healthier and would improve your disposition."

Agremon growled and made a grab for her. She countered with her fingernails and dug deep trenches in his arms. He hissed as he took a step back. "Enough of this!" Emma snapped, stepping forward. She whipped her head around to Namirha. "We have a deal, Namirha. I suggest you tend to it." Through their threaded connection, she told Hannah to do whatever Namirha told her to do. Hannah's face flushed a brilliant red.

"What have you done, Mother? What have you done?" she shouted angrily.

"The only thing I could, angel. I saved your life." Emma reached to caress her cheek. She kneeled down, kissed her, and whispered, "I love you."

She waited, praying that she would hear those blessed words one last time. "I love you more," Hannah choked out.

"I love you most," Emma said, letting out the breath she'd been holding.

"You win, Mama," Hannah cried out as she hugged her. Emma agonized. _Lord,_ _she knows. I can feel it. She knows what I've done. God forgive me._

"Yes, angel, I win." Emma tenderly and with resolve set Hannah away from her, turned to Namirha, and ordered harshly, "Get her out of here, now."

With no more than a nod, Namirha grabbed Hannah and flashed her to his mountain dwelling.

"No!" Agremon roared, running about frantically, and then he settled his gaze on Emma. "You! You planned this. I'll kill you with my bare hands and take pleasure in tearing you apart limb from limb!"

He charged towards her, and before she could even think what to do next or flat out run, the Brethren arrived. And how they arrived astonished her. As if flying down from Heaven itself, she saw nine glowing men, with outstretched wings and swords raised in their mighty hands, descend upon the mesa. She thought they were truly magnificent to behold, this army of angels.

Emma dropped to the ground like a lead balloon, right on her behind, and stared in awe at the men. How different they all looked in their leather pants, muscles glistening from sweat, and their wings unfurled. Indestructible and unyielding, an impenetrable wall of immortal flesh now stood solidly before her. Agremon slowed to a stop. Emma gathered her wits, got up, and began searching for Michael. It didn't take long, and his murderous expression gave her pause. He moved to her and stood protectively by her side.

"We know Namirha has Hannah. You will tell me about that later," Michael demanded pointedly.

Emma nodded silently.

"Michael! Brethren!" Agremon shouted. "Long time no see. Come for a rumble, have you?"

"Come to serve Brethren justice swiftly and permanently, Agremon!" Kemuel answered, walking towards him.

"Ha! I look forward to you trying!" Agremon quickly flashed himself off the mesa to join his minions below.

"Agremon has back up," Emma shared. "Did you see the masses down there?"

"The Brethren have backup, too. Gabriel!" Michael shouted. Gabriel blew his horn, and suddenly, the sky was ablaze. She covered her ears and looked up. The sound of beating wings deafened.

What she saw defied explanation. Legions of angels swarmed in the air, and descended on Agremon's minions who were already decimating the towns surrounding the mountain. All the Brethren, save Michael, quickly took flight and joined in the descent. Just like Hannah's pictures, Emma marveled.

Well, if those pictures were accurate, I wonder what others will be, too.

Michael shook her out of her wonderment. She felt a little dazed when he yelled, "The war's begun, Emma! You're going to be needed down there soon to heal the angels and mortals. That's your job now. I'll be with you to protect you. That's my job. You see, we both have jobs that complement each other. We go hand in hand, not alone, Emma, never alone."

She caught his message and turned away, ashamed. He trailed his hands from her shoulders down to her hands and held them. "So tell me what you've done, Emma. Whatever you've done alone, we'll face it and get through it together. Why did you shield yourself from me? Why did you leave the encampment alone? What were you doing here before us? And why did you let Namirha take Hannah?"

She gazed into his eyes, those dazzling orbs that could see straight into her soul and set her heart on fire. She would miss them. And when she could look no longer, she turned away and found she couldn't utter one word for fear of losing all the courage she'd built up 'til now. So she let down her shields and all of her thoughts and images went cascading down the thread she shared with him. She leaned her head against his chest, not wanting to see the inevitable shock and disappointment on his face.

"Oh, my God, Emma. Oh, my God," he whispered as he stepped back from her. His wings trembled. "I refuse to believe this. This—this is completely unacceptable. You weren't in your right mind when you struck that deal. You were distraught. Your daughter was going to be brutally murdered. E.L. can work with this. I know he can. I can protect you to the best of my ability, but E.L. has ways. He's dealt with Namirha personally before. He can fix this. He owes me this much!" His voice took on a grizzly and desperate tone. "I love you, Emma. I refuse to accept this!"

"Michael, listen to me. Listen to me," she repeated as she stepped back into his arms and caressed his cheek. "This isn't what's important right now. What's important is winning this war and keeping Hannah safe. Namirha saved her just now. He promised he wouldn't kill her and I have to have faith that he will do as he said. I have to, Michael. And you're right; I have a job to do.

"I have three days until I need to think about me. That's three days I know Hannah will be safe, and three days knowing you love me. When it's all done, and we've won, promise me one thing. Promise me that you'll watch over Hannah. See that she does well in school and has a happy life. I pray you'll do this for me. Do this so I can go, knowing I did what was right for my daughter."

He held her tightly in his arms, cradling her head to his chest. "But this isn't right! She needs you, Emma! I need you!" She heard his heartbeat quicken, and sensed love and fury literally wrap a tight coil around his heart. Her own heart ached and was rent in two. "I must answer your prayer, and as I have done once before, I will do it again."

***

Begrudgingly, he agreed to the last wishes of the woman he loved. By law, he was bound to them, for a prayer made in desperation wrapped in love for another had to be answered. But inside, shielded from her, he vowed not to be alone at the end of this war. He'd already lost his first family at the hands of Evil; he wouldn't lose this one, as well. He'd find a way to break her deal with Namirha and make damn sure both Hannah and Emma were still alive and well when this war was over.

There were no other options.
Chapter Twenty-Six

"I'm sorry but I must leave you alone here." Namirha released Hannah's arms. "It seems the party back at the mesa just became adult-only. By the way, you should know your mother was a very brave woman. You should also know she traded her life for yours. I plan to be as honorable as can be, given who I am, and hold up my end of the bargain. What a grand birthday you shall have, my dear! We'll toast your mother and her valiant effort to save you."

She raised her fists in defiance and shook them fiercely at him. "You're lying! I don't believe you! No!" The ground rumbled beneath her. The walls of the mine shook with such force that it began a rippling effect. Moans and groans, as though the bones of the mine were crying out with pain, tore through the cavernous room, and then came snapping sounds, like tree limbs flexed to their limits and beyond. Rocks tumbled one upon another, effectively entombing her in his lair. He sneered and disappeared.

Namirha appeared back at the stone altar and found himself alone. Damn it, he needed that knife! As he looked out over the mesa's edge, he saw the fighting going on in earnest. He had to find Agremon as quickly as possible. He knew those minions were fighting for the bastard, not him. His powers had waned so that he prioritized when and how he used them. Controlling minions wasn't a priority until after he'd gone through the blood ritual with Hannah.

Right now, his energies were better spent on the impenetrable shield around her, as well as transporting himself wherever he needed to be. That left precious little for anything else, save a few tricks at best. But even those tricks had lost their effectiveness. He needed Hannah's energy!

He couldn't sense the demon's signature anywhere, and then out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of him down in the midst of the mêlée. So, he was shielding himself, was he? That took considerable energy. How strong had Agremon really become?

The thought of him being more powerful was unsettling and completely unacceptable. It fueled his anger, and he quickly flashed himself into the fray, far enough from Agremon so as not to be noticed, yet near enough to do what he had to do.

He could tell Agremon enjoyed every minute of the battle, as he watched him rip through mortals and angels alike with his bare hands and needlelike teeth, then laugh maniacally as he tossed the bodies aside.

***

So, Namirha had taken Hannah back to his dwelling. Agremon could feel the powerful shield he'd erected to keep him away from her. But he had the knife. Each had a piece of the prize, which without the other, rendered them both useless. He snarled as he ripped into another hapless human.

But wait, he thought, he was in the perfect position to bargain. Each had what the other one wanted. Namirha would never give up Hannah, and he would never give up the knife. Perhaps they could, dare he think it, share, and both gain Hannah's powers? Preposterous! But, he could let Namirha at least think so. He was willing to wager that he was too weak and struggling at this point, and would yield. And then, when the time came, Agremon would strike and absorb all of the girl's powers.

He grabbed another human and sent him to an untimely death. He could sense his Master's arrival behind him. He felt a tugging on the sheathed knife, but he had shielded it so it wouldn't budge. Agremon pivoted around to find Namirha standing there puzzled.

"What, did you think I would leave the knife unprotected? Even your mind is showing signs of deterioration, Namirha," he jeered. "These foolish angels have already tried to take it from me and found it impossible. I think it's time we made a deal. I have a proposition for you that will benefit us both in the end. Come, let's leave the angels and demons to their war, while you and I work out how to reap the mutual benefits."

"You intrigue me as much as you disappoint me, Agremon. While I admire your audacity to think you can best me, I find your betrayal repugnant. But, I see we are indeed at an impasse, with you holding the knife and I holding the girl. So I will agree to hear your proposition, but understand this. I'd sooner have neither of us win than see you rule. Keep that in mind while you make your proposal."

"Very well. I suggest we go to neutral territory for this discussion." Agremon grabbed hold of him and flashed them both to, of all places, Hannah's home.

***

Darkness had long since fallen over the battlefield that had once been the scene of quiet serenity. Emma looked all about her and saw the sturdy cacti dotting the area now neighbored with human remains from the carnage. Pools of coppery-smelling blood that brought bile to the back of her throat was quickly absorbed into the parched earth, and Emma had only a moment to wonder if the cacti would eventually turn red. Helpful was it that the usual moonlight and star-filled sky were replaced with the glow of angels. The howling that pierced through Emma's skull like an arrow was not that of the coyote, but of the demons, as angels sent them back to Hell with swift thrusts of their swords.

The Warriors' battalions of angels were challenged at every turn—fighting for their own immortal lives while warring against those who attacked the humans. The minions were cutting down hundreds of people as they screamed and ran for their lives. Emma could hear their prayers for someone to come and save them. But she knew no one outside the area had any clue of the devastation being wrought; and she knew, as well, that no one would come, for the Brethren had secured the area with a shield to prohibit the influx of any more innocent people. Protectors flew around the battlefield casting shields around as many groups of innocents as possible. Buildings lay in demolished charred heaps, having previously stood strong against many a sandstorm and monsoon.

Emma, along with the other Saviors, was up to her eyeballs with healing the fallen. As soon as one was healed, two more would fall in their place. The Saviors were tireless immortals, who kept up their lightening pace of healing anyone who had even the slightest thread of life left to them.

It was grueling work, especially so for Emma, who felt every bit of her mortality coursing through her weary muscles and bones. But she carried on, mustering every ounce of energy she could, hoping, though, there would be a break in the action. She honestly didn't know how much longer she could keep up the pace. She would look at Michael from time to time, who'd been by her side steadfast and true, sharing his energy with her as she needed. She would pause at those moments, and thoughts would enter her mind. It was Michael, trying to give her hope. She'd pushed every one of those thoughts away and gotten back to work more feverishly than before, giving her no time to think about anything. Thinking was the last thing she wanted to do.

***

Plumes of dust settled over broken bits of furniture while small rocks continued to topple precariously around Hannah. She had assumed that when the cave-in began that she was not long for this world. But as she stood there in her stupor, gazing at the destruction she had unwittingly wrought, she realized that nothing had touched nor harmed her in the least. There wasn't a trace of dust or debris to be found anywhere on her body. Namirha's protections must have created an impenetrable zone around her.

She had thought herself sealed in forever, but when the air had cleared of the dust and debris well enough, a shaft of light shined down in front of her feet. She followed its path with her eyes and found herself looking at a hole in the roof about the size of her bed pillow. Her freedom was close at hand!

Namirha had put her in the so-called living room area of the dwelling. Moving cautiously about and looking through the rubble, she saw that most everything was broken. But if chosen well, she could still make a workable staircase from the wreckage. Being only a small child, the opening appeared miles high even though it wasn't too far from the floor.

She chose a large trunk, that hadn't suffered too badly, to begin her staircase, and placed a side table on top. Then she put a couple of chairs on top of that. With those pieces stacked, she figured she could climb through the hole and hoist herself up and out. She took a deep breath, said a little prayer, and started her ascent. When she reached to put her hands through the hole, she was met with the unexpected: an invisible wall. She patted her palms against this wall to find that it completely covered the opening.

She let out a frustrated yell, but quickly stifled it for fear of another cave-in. Namirha must have shielded the entire room so Agremon couldn't get in. But now, she couldn't get out!

"Crap, crap, crap!" Hannah muttered. Then she did something completely bizarre considering her tenuous situation, she giggled. If her mother knew she'd said that word, she'd wash her mouth out with soap. And then her giggle became a chuckle, which turned into a belly laugh. Her laughter became almost maniacal. And then her laughter turned to sobbing. Her mother. She'd give anything to hear her mother scold her right now.

Hannah fell to the floor in a tiny heap. She needed her mother desperately. She was only a six-year-old girl, not even. She didn't know what she was supposed to do now. "I want my Mama!" she wailed. And then, as she listened to her own crying, she realized hers was the only voice in her head. Hers was the only heart beating. Where was the Ancient Warrior soul? She thought it silly, but she lifted her head to look around and, of course, saw no one.

As she rested her head on her arms again, someone rested theirs on her shoulder. A tender gesture meant to give encouragement. She peered up to find a smiling angel dressed in a golden suit of armor sitting beside her. The angel was no bigger than she, its wings spanning wider than its height. She reached out to touch this angel, and her hand passed right through its body. She knew then she was looking at the Ancient Warrior itself.

"I am not Mother, nor Father, but I can be both for you, now. I am here for you, child, as you have been most gracious in welcoming me. Come and rest in my arms, little Hannah. There is so much yet for us to do. Until we are free to do so, I will surround you with my presence and give you the peaceful rest you so richly deserve."

The Ancient Warrior beckoned her to its lap. Hannah crawled over and quickly nestled in its arms. She looked up at the Ancient Warrior's face and said simply,

"Thank you." Its wings enveloped her. Safe and comforted, she drifted off to sleep.

***

Agremon knew Namirha would be pissed when they flashed into Hannah's home. He'd dared to touch his Dark Lord and handled him with little finesse when doing so. But _he_ was in charge here, and it felt good.

Namirha turned around, surveying the lay of the land. They were in a cozy room with a fireplace and a mantle filled with pictures. He recognized the child in the photo as Hannah. "So this is where you took us—Hannah's home. How apropos for our discussion. Don't waste my time, demon," Namirha spat out with disdain. He absently picked up a picture frame and then tossed it to the floor. "Tell me what you want."

"I'll get straight to it, then." Agremon sat down on the oversized chair, leaned back and folded his arms, exude overwhelming confidence. "You need the knife, I need the girl. I say we pool our resources and both go after the prize."

Namirha rested a hand on the mantle and turned, his face holding no expression. "You're offering a deal to share the girl's powers between us?" "Yes, I am willing to share. As you can see, I've proven to be a worthy adversary or should you choose, a wise partner. It's up to you. I do have the means to retrieve the girl and go it alone. I thought I'd offer you a partnership given how long we've known each other. A professional courtesy, if you will. So that is my offer. Take it or leave it. One way or the other, I will have the girl' powers."

He couldn't wait to see Namirha's reaction to his win/win proposal. _Now who's the Master?_

Namirha was silent for a few moments. He walked to the window, turned, and paced back toward the fireplace. He pointed a decrepit finger. "If you want a share of the girl's powers, then you'll have to do it my way. We wait for her birthday as originally planned." Namirha fidgeted with his hands and rubbed them as though putting on lotion. "Since we'll be sharing them, it is vital that we wait for her powers to be at full strength. You bring the knife and I'll bring the girl to the stone altar on Thursday by six o'clock. We'll sacrifice her together at precisely six minutes after six. When her blood mixes with ours, we shall be more powerful than any immortal creature."

"Agreed." Agremon stood, easily towering over the withering Master of Evil. He intentionally stood close enough to look down upon him. "Nice doing business with you, Namirha. I knew you'd see things my way." He eased off a bit, leaning against the mantle and knocking off the remaining pictures in the process. "Now, about these Brethren. You know they're going to try everything in the book to keep this sacrifice from happening. I say we increase our minions to keep them good and busy for the next few days."

"I agree. Keep them occupied round the clock. Even their powers can fade over time without some kind of regeneration."

"Then they'll be vulnerable and I can rid us of them once and for all."

"Oh, you know better than that," Namirha reminded him glibly. "You can hurt them and drain their powers temporarily, but you can't kill them."

"Yes, of course you're right. I guess I got carried away with the thought of ultimate power at my fingertips." _Stupid ass_ , Agremon scolded himself. _You almost gave yourself away! Just shut up and don't fuck it up!_

"Thursday, then. Don't try anything screwy, Namirha. I'll be watching you."

"As I you, Agremon." He quickly flashed out of Hannah's house.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Namirha decided it was best not to return to his lair. He was confident his shields held the girl within while keeping others out. Besides, knowing that she was there was too enticing. He didn't care about the deal he'd made with Emma. He'd gotten her daughter away from Agremon to benefit himself. He did care, however, that he should get all of her powers, and that wouldn't be possible for three days. Three impossible days. So he decided to head to The Source's vacant headquarters and wait it out, while keeping a close eye on his less-than-trustworthy henchman's movements. He would surely pay for his betrayal. Namirha relished the many possibilities he could unleash for the rest of Agremon's eternity. Those very evil possibilities improved his disposition exponentially.

***

Just as it looked to Kemuel as though the angels had gotten the upper hand, another wave of demons appeared to start the onslaught anew. Thousands of angels reasserted their lethal dominance, led stalwartly by Nathanael, Seraphiel, and him. But Kemuel knew the Brethren were tiring and would need a break soon.

_Nathanael, Seraphiel!_ Kemuel called out through his mind. _We should rotate command so we can renew our powers. We can't keep this up indefinitely, and I've a feeling when these hordes are dispatched, there will be more right behind them._

_You got it!_ Nathanael called back. _You go first, Kemuel, we'll keep things running like a well-oiled machine._

_Fifteen minutes. That's all I need, brother._ And with that, he flew off. As he did, he cursed their manifested constraints of human form.

***

Night turned into day which blended into night and day once again, with no sign of the war letting up. As weary as Emma had thought she was, and worried she wouldn't be able to continue past the first few hours of healing, miraculously, she indeed trudged on. Something had grown within her, a never-ending source of power and determination that kept her diligently saving those who could be saved.

She made her way across the battlefield and was horrified by the scenes around her. The brutal carnage that Saviors were too late to stop, the regret that hung in the air as angelic souls made their way home for the last time, was nearly too much for her to comprehend. That this wasn't some sort of nightmare, that it was a reality she wished no one would ever have to endure ever again sliced through her heart like a thousand daggers. She could hear Raphael's voice in her head at one point. "We can never save them all, Emma. It is the way of things."

"Well, in my opinion, that is absolutely unacceptable. These people are innocents! How dare they be used as fodder in a war between immortals!" Emma spit back.

"It is the way of things," Raphael spoke plainly, and he returned to his healing.

"Well it's not my way, Raphael. I will find a way to save them all, mark my words!" But she got no reply.

***

Hannah remained secure in the arms of the Ancient Warrior. She slept for hour upon hour, day upon day, dreaming the most vivid of dreams. In her dream, she stood before a council of seven ancient souls, sitting on a golden dais, in a chamber whose very walls glowed with energy and radiated off soothing warmth. There was no ceiling above them, just a cloudy mist. Beneath her lay a smooth marble tile that cooled her feet. She was not afraid of these council members, but had the utmost of respect for them. They were talking in whispers to each other and then turned to her.

One spoke. "We are the Council of Ancient Souls. You are here because it has been ordained that you, Hannah, daughter of Emma, granddaughter of Mica, great granddaughter of Sima, shall be one part of the Trinity to usher in a new era of peace. In order to do so, we are giving you gifts that will lead us to victory over the darkness that threatens to expand its hold over our world."

Another spoke, "Your first gift you have already received. The Ancient Warrior soul resides within you and shall remain with you until Evil has been vanquished. You have been afraid of letting the Ancient Warrior have all the control. Trust it, our child, and let this soul guide your hand and mind in battle.

"The second gift is the gift of immortality. You are but a child now, and you shall continue to grow and age as any mortal child. Yet when you reach your thirty-sixth birthday, you shall assume your immortal state and become one of the Brethren, as the leader of the Warriors.

"The third and final gift is that you alone will then possess the power to create or annihilate. Although your intuition will never steer you wrong, use this power with extreme discretion."

"So is this why Namirha and Agremon want me? They want these powers?" Hannah asked.

"Indeed. As you can see, given the nature of these powers, they cannot gain possession of them or our reign over the universe will cease and Evil will rule. And now, Hannah, you must wake up and rejoin your Ancient Warrior soul. Namirha comes for you. You must be ready for the battle that is awaiting you at the stone altar. Good luck, our child. The prayers of millions are waiting to be answered and prophecy must be fulfilled."

Hannah awoke alone, with a renewed sense of hope and purpose. She would let Namirha take her to the stone altar and wage the final assault with the Brethren at her side. She breathed deeply and tried to reconnect with her warriors, but it was no use. Namirha's shield was blocking her efforts. She would have to wait until she reached the mesa before alerting them.

Light was blazing through the hole in the ceiling. She knew it was afternoon, but what she didn't know was of what day. The council member had said Namirha was coming for her. Did that mean she had slept for nearly four days straight? Was Namirha going to show up any minute? Was today her birthday?

Had it been a normal birthday, she would have called herself a big girl now. But she didn't feel like a big girl. She still wanted her dolls, her stuffed toys, and her Mama.

She thought of her mother, and then thought better of it. Certainly, no good would come of that. Whatever her mother had done had been for Hannah's protection. She had a dreadful feeling that she'd done something that could never be taken back, and Hannah would be living with that decision for the rest of her life. Not just any life, she thought absently, an eternity! She would be immortal! It was unfathomable to the child.

Suddenly, Hannah felt a sizzle of energy nearby, and just that fast, the Ancient Warrior's soul took over, having tucked little Hannah safely back into her corner. This time, there was no fear, no resistance. Namirha flashed before her and she took a defiant stance. Namirha's eyes flashed with anger, and then let out a haughty laugh.

"Oh, Hannah, my daughter, you are as enchanting as you are petulant. Now, put your violent nature aside. By the looks of things around here, you can't quite control the damage it can wield."

"It will be a cold day in You-Know-Where when I ever think of myself as being your daughter, Namirha," Hannah lashed out with an acid tongue.

"Well, bundle up, darling, because You-Know-Where's about to freeze over," Namirha snickered. "You see, your mother and I had a deal."

"You said that before, and I'm not interested in your lies, Namirha. You're trying to scare me, is all."

"Oh, but it is no lie. Your mother bargained for your safety, you see. I am to keep you away from Agremon, and tonight I am allowed to partake of some of your blood, your power-rich blood. I'm not to sacrifice you, though, such is the pity. And since your mother has agreed to do that duty, well, you're going to need a father to watch over you while you grow into a young lady and adult. I happen to fit the bill. That was our deal, Hannah; her life for yours. Are you getting chilly yet, 'cause it's getting mighty cold in Hell already. Come to Papa!" Namirha held out his arms as though waiting for her to embrace him.

Hannah was stunned and the Ancient Warrior soul was having difficulty navigating her back to her corner. She raised her fists, wishing she had her sword to run him through over and over again until he was good and dead. Her arms stayed steady as her legs took stilted steps toward him. Namirha moved a wary step back.

_Easy little one,_ the Ancient Warrior soul soothed, _we mustn't let him get to your heart. We have a job to do. We must get to the battlefield and end this war. Go back to your corner, little one. I will handle it from here. Trust me._ Hannah slowly lowered her balled hands and stood firm once again.

"You came to get me, didn't you? Are we going back to the stone altar? Is it my birthday?" Hannah asked.

"Well, we've finally gotten around to the reason for my visit. And the answer is yes. I'm sure all of your guests are eagerly awaiting your appearance."

"Do you have the ritual knife?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head over the details. I'll have it when I need it, rest assured."

So he doesn't have the knife yet. That wasn't the best news.

Agremon was definitely stronger than Namirha right now, and definitely the most lethal. She would have to be very cautious when trying to retrieve the ritual knife from its sheath. Agremon had a shield on it. She would have Michael render it null and void first.

"Time to go, my dear, and uh, no more questions. I don't fancy you'll like any answers I'll have for you."

"Just so you know, if I had my sword, I'd slice your hands off your arms so fast you wouldn't even realize they were gone until you reached to pick your nose."

"What a vivid image you've produced in my head, child. You really do have potential for evil. Such a pity you were born on the wrong side of the tracks. Yes, such the pity." Namirha grabbed her arms and flashed them to the mesa, where the stone altar stood ready.

While trying to contain her impotent fury at having lost her sword, Hannah could hear screams and howls from below and knew the war waged on. She hoped that her mother and the Brethren were still alive. She instantly opened herself to feel for any threaded signature of her mother and what amounted to her extended family. Yes! They were all alive!

She called to them. _I'm here at the stone altar. Come quickly! Namirha is_ _waiting for Agremon to show with the ritual knife. I shall take it from him after Michael tears his shields to shreds. Warriors can then turn ugly on them both. Timing is everything right now. Come!_

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Emma felt her daughter's thread come crashing through her latest attempt at saving one of the angels. _Thank the heavens she's alive_. But not out of danger. She looked over her shoulder to her rock and protector, who had been unwavering in his support during the past three days.

"It's her birthday, Michael," she lamented. "She's six years old today. My baby's six years old." She shut her eyes for a moment and gathered herself together. So far, Namirha had kept to their deal. Hannah was alive and at the altar. She had to go to her, to see her one last time.

"I know. We have to go. She's waiting for us," Michael urged softly. He grabbed her and then flew them to the top of the mesa. Her stomach fluttered as her feet left the ground, and she closed her eyes tightly, holding onto him with a death grip. But her trust was strong, and her need to see her daughter, stronger. She fully expected to arrive at the altar in perfect health. And then she could say goodbye. Rather than go into this final showdown blind, she bravely opened her eyes as they approached the top of the mesa.

Agremon was nowhere to be seen, but Namirha was there dressed in a red robe, Hannah by his side. The other Brethren were close behind, leaving their battalions to handle whatever else came their way. What happened now, at the altar, took top priority for the elite group.

Emma barely had her feet on the ground when she took off running toward Hannah. "Not so fast!" Namirha shouted, and with a wave of his hand he forced Emma to stop in her tracks. "Although a reunion would be quite touching, it is not prudent. You'll keep your distance, Mother dear, or I shall indeed sacrifice her."

"Hannah, are you okay?" Emma minded Namirha's threat. "Firmly rooted in place, Mother, but I'm fine, and you?"

"Looks like I'm firmly rooted, as well. Don't worry about me, angel. I'm fine," she answered, brightening her voice to compensate for the emotional pain flowing through every fiber of her being.

The Brethren surrounded Namirha, swords in hands, and ready to battle. "I would think better of your position right now, gentlemen. Take one step closer to me and the girl dies." He had brandished a dagger while grabbing Hannah close and held it up to her neck.

"No!" Emma screamed, and ran in front of the warriors to push them back. It was like trying to move the Great Wall of China.

"Now, what good would that do you, killing the girl? You've waited a long time for her. I don't think you'd damage your chances of ruling the world, Namirha," Michael said, calling his bluff.

Agremon flashed in right next to the Dark Lord. "I have to agree, although agreeing with Mr. Protector here, is causing me a bit of chafing. Namirha, put the dagger away. You're going to get someone hurt, most likely Hannah or me."

As soon as Agremon had appeared, Michael muttered under his breath the sacred words that would shred the threads of protection over the ritual knife. "I'm not taking this dagger away from her throat."

"Then let's get on with the real business we're here for. Bring the girl over to the altar." He turned to the Brethren standing with swords ready, yet not moving. "Anyone follows, and you're dead."

All bluster, Agremon was. Until Seraphiel saw an opening to retrieve the knife. As Namirha, Hannah, and Agremon turned to walk toward the altar, he leapt to Agremon's back and unsheathed the knife. But he was slow on the retreat and found himself hoisted up and over the demon's head like a pillow to stand before him.

"You are one stupid, stupid angel, aren't you?" Agremon remarked with a maniacal smile, showing all of his needlelike teeth in their glory. "Say goodnight to all your friends."

Before the angel had a chance to throw the knife to any of the Brethren, Agremon grabbed it with his free hand. He then flung Seraphiel around so that his back was facing him. Opening his mouth, Agremon thrust his head forward and bit deeply into Seraphiel's left wing and actually tore it off, spitting it out to the side like a discarded piece of gristle. The angel let out a wail that rivaled the banshees of Ireland. Agremon dropped him to the ground unceremoniously and turned to face the Brethren, each in utter shock.

"Oh, my God! Seraphiel!" Emma screamed, breaking the stunned silence.

"Who's next to die?" Agremon taunted, spraying blood as he spoke. "Come on! I dare you!"

Seraphiel lay on the ground unmoving. Raphael was closest and hurried to his aid. Nothing he tried was working. He looked over at Cassiel, and waved him over. Cassiel rushed over to lend his powers, and they started up their efforts again in earnest.

Emma was about to go over, as well, but saw Namirha had taken Hannah to the stone altar. She watched him like a hawk as he laid her down, dagger still a threat to her neck.

"Agremon, stop playing around!" Namirha shouted impatiently. "Get over here with that knife."

"Not on your life. I've waited too long for this moment to have you rush me through it. Brethren are going to die tonight!"

Knowing he was outnumbered by the remaining Brethren, rather than fight them all at once, with a wave of his hand, Agremon sent all but Michael back down to the battlefield, and threw up a shield to keep them at bay if they tried to come back.

"How do you know?" Michael whispered fiercely. "Only E.L. and I were to know. How do you know how we can die?"

"So you've finally caught on, eh Michael? Yes, your big secret's blown. I've known for a long time. I know how to kill the Brethren! I know much about E.L. and his secrets, having been a favorite and then spurned so long ago. Remind me to share with you sometime. Oh wait, you're going to be dead soon, too. Well, you'll just have to die knowing I screwed you, again. You know, I've been biding my time, waiting for the right moment. And now seems the perfect time to stick it to you yet again." Agremon was swinging the ritual knife around, nonchalantly teasing Namirha and Michael.

"You think to taunt me with your words and your knowledge, but you don't fool me Agremon. You have no power over me. You're still an outcast and always will be. You think you've been waiting a long time for this? Well, I've been waiting longer. I will see you die this night, Agremon, at my hands alone. I will take great pleasure sending you to the deepest, darkest region of Hell to wallow forever in your failures." Michael wielded his sword and lunged forward to launch his offensive.

Emma screamed, "No, Michael!"

As he came down through the air, he roared, "This is for Beth and our unborn child." He sliced through Agremon's chest and retreated a few steps. It happened so fast that the demon stood shocked for the briefest of moments. He bellowed and charged at the Protector. Michael flew up and over him, grabbing the ritual knife along the way down.

He called out, "Emma! Catch this, and for God's sake, hold onto it!" He gently tossed the knife to Emma, who caught it by its handle, and returned his attention to Agremon. The demon had turned and was charging at him once again. Michael readied his sword to slash when Agremon disappeared right in front of him.

Michael tensed and swung about looking everywhere for him to pop up. "Where are you, you cowardly bastard?"

Agremon goaded, "I'm right behind you, you useless sack of shit." Michael pivoted with his blade ready to do some heavy damage, but only managed to nick his cheek. Then he lunged, aiming for Agremon's heart, but he leaned away and instead got nailed in his left shoulder. Agremon swatted the next blow away with his forearm. Back and forth they went meeting each other blow for blow.

Torn, Emma kept one eye on Namirha and her daughter, and the other on the two fighting. Agremon and Michael were tangled together, grappling on the ground and in the air. She noted how Michael kept his back from the demon at all times, keeping his wings protected and out of reach. Emma was so concerned for Michael's safety she'd turned her full attention on them.

Namirha made a grab for the knife. "Give it to me!"

"No! I won't let you have it!" She tightened her grip, her own strength surpassing Namirha's in his already weakened state. She found herself dragged to the altar, unwilling to relinquish her hold. Hannah yelled for Michael. Emma jerked her head in her Protector's direction. As if in slow motion, she saw a dagger fly towards him. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Michael caught it by its handle and plunged it deep into Agremon's heart. Relieved, she turned her attention back to Namirha and the ritual knife.

"Now Hannah is all mine." Namirha tugged at the ritual knife, drawing Emma back to her current predicament. "As you shall be, too, my dear."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Namirha immediately took hold of Emma's hands around the knife and made ready to plunge it into Hannah's little body. He seemed poised for a complete sacrifice. She looked on in horror, as with _her_ hands still on the sword, she would effectively be killing her own daughter. Adrenaline surged. Her maternal instincts to protect her child kicked into high gear.

"No! It's not time yet! Don't do this! It won't work!" Emma struggled to keep the knife away from her daughter. "We had a deal, damn it!"

In her head, Hannah spoke _. Let go of the handle and grab the blade with your_ _hand. I will, too. Trust me!_ Emma did as she was told. She grabbed the blade as Hannah did. Its well-honed edge cut deeply into her palm. Hannah yelled, "Duck!"

As Emma ducked her head, Hannah kicked Namirha in the face. He let go of the knife and staggered backward. Hannah yanked on her mother, and still holding the blade, they rolled to the ground, out of his reach. As he howled in outrage, another sound echoed and died away. Agremon, with a final burst of immortal life, reached up and gripped Michael's left wing. He tore it away from the angel's body. Both collapsed lifeless on the ground.

Emma and Hannah froze. Time, itself, seemed to stand still. It was Michael who had howled.

"Michael!" Hannah screeched. And Emma burst into action. She scrambled over to him, Hannah right behind, noticing Agremon's lifeless body. But she saw, too, Michael's left wing lying beside him, bloodied like his shoulder blade.

"Oh, my God! Michael! No!" Trying to save him would be futile. That's what she was told. How could this be possible? This couldn't really be the end for him, for them, for the Trinity. Inconceivable!

Hannah rested a hand on her head. "I know how to fix this, Mama. We need to put our hands together, your special powers and mine, combine them with the knife, and touch Michael's shoulder. It will heal him and save him from certain death."

"It's not going to help. You saw Seraphiel," Emma sobbed.

"Mama, we can't let Michael die. We are the Trinity. We're special. It can't be this easy to get rid of us. It has to work. The Ancient Warrior says so. Do it!"

Hannah forced their bloodied hands with the knife onto Michael's left shoulder, where the wing should have been. Instantly, Emma and Hannah felt a jolt of energy.

"Mama, my hand is getting really warm. How about yours?"

"Uh huh, mine is, too. And now I'm feeling a strong throbbing, too."

A brilliant light shot up from Michael's shoulder blade and knocked their hands away. The ritual knife burst into a million tiny fragments that floated up into the air. Out from his shoulder blade sprouted a new wing. Michael was still unconscious, but Emma could see he was breathing.

"Michael, can you hear me? Michael, it's Emma. Come back to me, my angel. Come back to us." Emma held Hannah strong in her arms while stroking Michael's newly sprouted wing with a hand that had miraculously healed from its deep cut, leaving behind a faint scar as a reminder.

"You've both been very naughty girls. Father's none too pleased," Namirha snarled as he stalked over to the Trinity. Emma turned and gasped, squeezing Hannah even tighter. She'd forgotten about him in the frenzy to save Michael. "And now you both shall pay for your misdeeds. Say goodbye to your mother, Hannah. A deal is a deal. And this deal I'm not about to break!"

***

Before Hannah or Emma could say anything, Namirha grabbed Emma by the throat, tearing her out of her daughter's arms and disappeared. Michael awakened to see Namirha flash away with his love.

"Mama!"

"Emma!"

Michael and Hannah turned to each other, astonished, looked at where Emma had sat, and faced each other again. Hannah crawled into his lap and they clung to each other. "I'll get her back, Hannah. I promise you, I will move Heaven and Earth to get her back."

"You're going to have to move Hell, too, Michael."

Chapter Thirty

Emma was still reaching out towards Hannah when she found her surroundings disappear and change from the stone altar to a hole dug into the earth. She turned feverishly around and around to get her bearings. The hole she was in had to have been no bigger than five feet in diameter and twice as deep.

"Namirha! Namirha!" she cried out. All she saw was his demonic face peering over the edge. "Namirha! Where am I?"

"I'd say you were in a holding tank, of sorts, in my dungeon under my home. Thanks to your lack of honor and your insufferable daughter, I have not the energy necessary to make the trip back to Hell just yet. So you'll have to stay here until I'm strong enough to bring us both there."

"Am I—am I—" She couldn't even say th word aloud.

"Dead? Is that what you were wondering? Are you dead? Not yet, but you'll wish you were. Oh no, since our deal took a turn for the worse, I've got something different in mind for you. Death would be too easy, and not at all what you deserve for ripping ultimate domination out of my very hands! Emma, my darling betrayer, your fate is much worse than death. And it begins now!" He moved out of Emma's line of sight.

Emma didn't know what to expect but feared the worst. She still had all the protections on her and hoped that they would help, but she wasn't counting on it.

"Meet your neighbor, Emma. I found him on the floor by the manacles and chains I have hanging on the walls up here. Oh, but you'll know what I'm talking about soon enough." Namirha grunted as he threw something into the hole. Emma screamed and moved aside as quickly as she could to avoid getting pummeled.

When she looked at what had been tossed in as if it were trash, she shrieked at the top of her lungs and scuttled as far from it as she could, which wasn't saying much. He'd tossed in a man's dead body with no regard. She recognized it as the body Agremon had possessed days ago. This poor soul had already begun to decompose, with maggots feasting on his eyes, mouth, nose, and open wounds. The horrific sight and the putrid smell emanating from him made Emma wretch immediately. Having not eaten for days, there wasn't much to bring up, so dry heaves quickly took over.

"Getting to know your friend there, Emma? From the sound of it, you're the only one holding up the conversation," Namirha mocked from somewhere above her. "Just as well, he seemed dead on his feet. Give him a little time, though. He may prove to be an interesting companion."

"Damn you!" was all she could muster.

"That would be rather redundant, now wouldn't it?" There was silence. Nothing and no one around that was alive it seemed, but her.

_Oh, dear Lord! What have I done?_ She'd saved her daughter, and Michael was alive. She'd seen that and their grief, before being whisked away. "But our bargain was my life for hers, my death not hers. I didn't bargain for eternal torture!" she yelled out loud. She had to get out of there, somehow _._ She checked the wall surrounding her only to find it smooth, with nary a foothold or handhold to be found.

With the dead body taking up most of the usable space, Emma stood in place, closed her eyes and quieted herself. If she meditated she'd come up with some kind of plan. Before she could take her second deep breath, however, she found herself flashed out of the hole. Not quite sure what to make of this, she quickly looked around. But as she turned, something restricted her movement. Her ankles had been shackled to the floor. She looked at her wrists and they, too, were shackled, but loosely. Namirha's voice suddenly filled the cavernous room in the earth, but he couldn't be seen. "Treat number two is on its way."

She found her wrists involuntarily raised above her head until she felt stretched to her limit and on her tiptoes. She was completely at a loss, and unable to do anything to free herself.

"My hounds want to play, Emma. It's funny, but whatever I give them to play with, they destroy so quickly. Maybe you could be their everlasting chew toy, hmm? See, if you get too chewed up, I can always return you to your normal state. You'd be good as new and ready to be played with all over again." Emma heard snarling coming from all around her but saw nothing. She prayed her protections would hold against whatever physical pain these hounds would surely try to inflict. The snarling got louder and closer and still she saw neither a whisker nor a tail. So it was to be blind terror, then.

Suddenly, Emma heard a scrabbling on the ground, as if an animal had begun racing towards her. She turned her head away from the sound, unable to move an inch of her body, and held her breath. She immediately heard something slam into a wall and a subsequent yelp. She'd felt a vibration around her and could only assume the wall in question was her protective shield, and the yelp, a hurt invisible hound of Hell. As soon as that hound backed off, another took over, and another, each taking a pounding from the impenetrable force. The problem was, it was taking the same pounding, and she wondered how long it would be before it would start wearing thin.

***

Gabriel and Urie had finally broken through the roadblocks of energy Agremon had installed to keep them away from the business on top of the mesa. With the last of his minions sent back to Hell, the Warrior's battalions ascended to their home, save one, while the Brethren quickly flew back to the stone altar, swords ready to do battle. The first thing they saw was their brother, Seraphiel, lying lifeless on the ground, his left wing in tatters next to him. Raphael quickly assigned the angel that had followed them the task of bringing his body and wing back home. Scanning to the right of him lay Agremon on his back with a dagger stuck in his chest to the hilt. And finally, at his feet, in a crumpled, heaving mass were Michael and Hannah.

"Where's Namirha? Where's Emma?" Raphael asked no one in particular, turning this way and that.

Urie had walked over to Michael and Hannah. He knelt down and put a gentle yet strong hand on Michael's shoulder.

"Michael?" Urie asked gently. "Michael, where's Emma?"

Michael looked up without seeing, barely registering the existence of anyone other than Hannah. "He took her," he answered as a single tear escaped and made the solitary journey down his cheek. And as it dropped to the ground, it sizzled and scarred the earth. "And I'm going to get her back." The haze of grief slowly cleared and determination got him standing on his feet again, Hannah still in his arms. "I don't care about any deal that was made between them. He made the wrong move first. By my accounts, the deal is null and void." He gently placed Hannah on her feet again. She hugged his leg.

"I can't feel her, Michael. Can you?" She peered up at him anxiously.

"No, Hannah, I can't. But that doesn't mean that she's dead. Namirha could have shields around her so we can't sense each other." The wheels churned mightily in his head. "If that's the case, he hasn't killed her, and that means that she's still here. If she's still here, we can find her. There are a limited amount of places Namirha can go with the little powers he has left. In fact, I don't think he can even make it back to Hell given all the energy he's expended. What do you think, Gabriel?"

"I think you're on to something," Gabriel replied. "If we can assume Namirha is too weak to leap to Hell with Emma, then he's stuck here until he builds up his strength again. I hate to say it, but it's not a guarantee that he hasn't killed her already. Now, you know me. I'm not a pessimist, but we have to look at this realistically."

"I know, I know. Any demons left down below?"

"All gone, angel battalions, too," Kemuel reported. "Thanks to Emma and the Saviors, the immortal losses are quite minimal. Mortal losses, well that's another story. We have a massive cleanup to tend to later thanks to our dearly departed Agremon."

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "Well, if everyone's gone, that makes our job of finding Emma easier. No barriers, no road blocks, just a failing Namirha to contend with."

"So where do you want to start?" Kemuel asked.

Hannah walked over to the Brethren as they spoke, and stood at Michael's side. "There are only two places Namirha could have taken my mother—the compound or his dwelling."

"His dwelling? Where's that?" Michael asked.

"I don't know exactly, but Nathanael does. I was always flashed to and from there, but I can describe what I saw while I was in there. Maybe that will help."

"Yes, please, anything you know will help. In the meantime, let's split into two groups. Kemuel will lead one party going through the compound," Michael ordered. "Nathanael, you'll stay here and lead the party going to Namirha's dwelling."

"Will do, Michael. Cassiel, Urie, you're with me," Kemuel called out as he took to the air.

"Hannah, can you tell us what you know?" Michael asked. "Hannah," he repeated, pulling her from watching the Brethren fly off.

"Sorry. Well, first of all I was underground. The walls were made of stone, but not the kind you build with. It was like being in a stone cave. The ground was dirt. I remember walking down a long hallway that could have been like a tunnel, because it felt closed-in to me, so if I reached my hands out and jumped, I would touch the ceiling.

"When I was flashed there by Namirha, I was so angry I screamed. My scream actually caused rocks and stuff to cave-in. An opening appeared in the ceiling of the room I was stashed in. If it weren't for the shields, I could have climbed out myself."

"You caused a cave-in? Impressive." Gabriel smiled. "It sounds like she was in an abandoned mine. Let's go back to my tent. I can get the exact location from some maps I downloaded and saved."

"Let's hope the tent is still standing!" Michael huffed. Without another word, the remaining team took flight and headed back to the encampment. "Hannah, are you ready to fly, darlin'?"

"As ready as I'm ever gonna be," she answered excitedly.

"All right, now don't worry. I'll have you, but it's easier if you hang on, too." Hannah clung to him like a koala bear and off they went. It was exhilarating to feel the wind on her face and neck as it drove the sweat and heat away. She actually felt joyful for a brief moment. Before she knew it, they were at Gabriel's tent.

"Well, what did you think of your first flight?" Michael asked as he gently touched down.

"It beats the heck out of flashing in and out of places. You get to see all the in-between places!"

Invigoration quickly died along with her delight when she saw the devastation around her. A battle in which she was supposed to lead the Warriors to victory had been fought without her, and she felt guilt and frustration for having been used as a pawn instead. A few tents remained standing; luckily, Gabriel's was counted amongst them.

"Oh Michael," Hannah murmured, "it must have been terrible."

"Yes, well, it's over now. We won, the evil guy lost, and all will be right with the world when we get your mother back," Michael replied tersely. "So, what do you have for us, Gabriel? How do we get to that abandoned mine?"

"Well, if you look at this map, it looks like there's an abandoned mine at the base of this mountain here," he explained, pointing to an area he had enlarged. "It's part of the Goldfield Mountains, right next to the Superstitions. From the looks of it, I figure that's exactly where the entrance is. But Hannah, you mentioned something about a cave-in?"

"Yes, but I don't know how far-reaching it is. It definitely blocked my way out of the chamber I was in, though. And I heard rumbling for quite a few seconds after it began. This could be a problem, couldn't it? I mean, you don't flash around like Namirha does."

"Yes, it could turn out to be a very big problem, depending on how extensive the cave-in is, and where your mother is being held," Gabriel conceded. "But we won't know until we're there, will we?"

"All right then, let's head out. Gabriel, we follow you, brother," Michael decided, and then whispered, "Lead us to her. I mustn't fail her again."

"With all that is in my power, brother, I shall," he vowed solemnly.

***

Emma didn't know how long it had been since the hounds of Hell started charging and snapping at her, but it was long enough that her shields were starting to tear and the damned dogs knew it. They were a perfect blend of patience and impatience, tenacity and eagerness. The fact that she hadn't been able to see them at all before was a good thing. As they tore away at her shields, she was beginning to get glimpses of what they really were, and abject terror was quickly setting in.

Through those tears she could see about a dozen pairs of red glowing eyes and frothing mouths that could barely contain the protruding rows of jagged teeth. She shuddered every time one of the hounds would come slamming into her shields, now knowing what awaited her when her shields finally failed.

One hound was finally able to get his muzzle through a tear and bit her thigh as though it were the tastiest chop from the butcher. It held on and shook his head like her leg was, indeed, a chew toy. She howled in agony, helpless to shake the demon dog off. It let go after a time and backed up. Her head slumped to her shoulders with the reprieve.

But before she could catch her breath, another set upon her, opening the shield's breach even wider. This time the jaw clamped down on her hip while claws were able to reach through and tear ribbons of flesh from her belly and back. The pain was excruciating and Emma fell into a pain-filled stupor knowing she was near death.

On and on the demon dogs came at her, with a ferocity that could only be produced from a creation of Hell.

Emma regained semi-consciousness some time later and sensed she was no longer vertical or chained. She lay on the ground, and when she tried to move her legs, besides the pain stopping any further movement, so did a wall. She figured she was back in the hole as she lost consciousness again.

***

The mine's entrance was in ruins. All of the Protectors worked feverishly with their unsealing incantations to blast a new opening, but the cave-in was irreparable.

"Damn it!" shouted Michael in utter frustration. "I'm calling E.L. right now!" He took out his cell phone and started punching numbers.

"Whoa! Wait a minute," Nathanael yelled, grabbing at Michael's arm. "I'm sure if we fly around, we can find another opening."

"No! I've had enough. If we waste any more time Emma could be dead. He owes me, Nathanael! He fucking owes me!" Michael tore away from Nathanael. "E.L.? Michael."

A deep timber reverberated in his ear. "Hello, Michael. Nice job on saving the world this week. The company is quite pleased with the results and I'll be sending out a formal response to everyone shortly."

"Yeah, well we're not quite done yet, and I require your unique services. Given the fact that you destroyed my life and family, I figured you owe me. Big time."

"I see. Well, we may have a difference of opinion on some events that occurred in the past, but I'm willing to overlook the discrepancy. What unique services are you in need of, Michael?"

"I believe Emma's being held against her will, by Namirha, in an abandoned mine. We can't get in and she's in grave danger. You can get her out. With a blink of an eye, you know you can get her out."

"Now Michael, you know better than to ask that of me."

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. You're going to get her out and we'll call ourselves even."

"I can't do it, Michael. It would disrupt the order of things. But, I can help you get to her if you're sure she's there. Yes, I could do that," E.L. acquiesced decisively.

"E.L. we're not sure of anything. We have a strong suspicion that she's here. That's the best you're going to get."

"Well, that's not quite true. You have our Warrior Child with you?" "Yes, why?"

"She has a scar on her right palm. So does her mother. And you have a scar where you lost your wing. You are all bound to each other in a way that no power can destroy. Focus both of your energies on your scars. You will be able to tell where her mother is. If she is indeed in that abandoned mine, I will clear your way, but that is all I can do."

"Stay on the line. Hannah, you have a scar on your right palm?" She nodded and showed him. "I need you to focus your energies on it. Somehow it will let you know if your mother is here."

Hannah closed her eyes and Michael could see her brow wrinkle in concentration. It only took moments. "Michael, it's tingling. And it's getting warm. What does that mean?" she asked excitedly. He focused on his scar as well. It was behaving in the same way.

"E.L., we've both got tingling and warmth. What does that mean?" Michael asked urgently.

"She's there. I've cleared a path from the entrance through the tunnels. You'll know you're getting close to her when the tingling gets stronger. You're on your own from here. We're even." Dead air came across the other end.

"Hannah, she's here. Hey, everyone, she's here! If she's here, Namirha's here, too. Nathanael, call Kemuel and get the other team here on the double."

"On it. You don't go anywhere 'til they're here. Got it?" Nathanael ordered. "We don't need you going in there hell-bent without backup."

"He has backup," Hannah spoke up. "Me."

Michael looked at Hannah and knew she wouldn't wait any longer either. "You're a fine warrior, Hannah. I'd be honored to have you as backup. Let's go!"

***

Emma was coming to again. Each time she surfaced her body and soul were weaker than before. She feared that the next time she went under she might not make it back. It was then that she felt a mild tingling in her right palm along the scar line left by the ritual knife. She rubbed at it absently with her thumb. But the tingling persisted. As she rubbed it again she noticed that besides the tingling, her palm was also very warm. "Hannah—Michael," she whispered. A single tear made its way down her ravaged cheek, and she fell into the deep darkness once again.

Chapter Thirty-One

Michael suggested Hannah take over the lead through the mine since her palm was behaving like a compass. Providing the necessary light with his aura to guide them through the dark passages, they continued their tedious hike bringing them deeper and deeper into the earth. He had hoped he could fly them through the tunnels, but they were far too narrow to navigate safely, and would have slowed them down tremendously.

As they made their way deeper into the mine, he noticed that the juncture where his wing joined his shoulder was tingling so strongly it was on the verge of pain.

"Michael, the tingling is getting stronger." A bend in the tunnel revealed a stone stairway leading downward. She turned back to him as if to question the next move.

"We go down, of course," he responded. "Let me go first, though, I don't want you falling and hurting yourself. I'm not the healer around here, you know."

The stairway was simple and old, and the treads had been so worn, that by the time they reached the midpoint, he picked her up and floated the rest of the way down. They immediately found themselves in a chamber, the size of a huge master bedroom, with no exit. It had to have been some kind of storage room in the past, but from the looks of it now, he knew it had been used as of late for something much more dark and malevolent.

Hanging from the ceiling, rather than a chandelier, were manacles. Bolted to the floor beneath them were shackles as well. Michael immediately raised his wings to shield the young girl from seeing the rest of the horror. The walls were splattered with blood and on the ground was a bloody trail that led to the far left corner and disappeared into blackness. What that blackness was, he couldn't tell yet. As for the blood, he prayed that it wasn't Emma's but knew better in his heart.

"Hannah, you shouldn't be seeing this. I want you to go up a few steps and sit there while I check things out."

"I'll do no such thing! My hand is about ready to burn off. She's here, Michael. Right here! Don't go all Principal D'Angelo on me. Whatever is to be seen, I'll handle it. I'm an Ancient Warrior, you recall. Little Hannah can be a tough cookie, and I'm here to protect her when she's not." She gently moved his wing aside and entered the chamber. Michael's light illuminated more and more of their surroundings.

They followed the bloody trail to the corner and his light revealed a hole, a pit, perfect for throwing refuse in, big enough to hold a person. He scrambled to its edge to have a look.

Half of him wanted to find Emma. The other half prayed he wouldn't.

The second team finally caught up with them as he was approaching the pit. They took up positions on either side of Hannah. Michael gave no sign that he had even heard them enter the chamber, so fixed was his gaze on the pit.

"Have you found her?" Kemuel asked. "I think so," Hannah whispered.

Michael leaned over the side of the pit, and what he saw defied words. He was initially puzzled seeing two bodies lying on the floor of the pit, even more so at the state of decomposition of one of them. Recognizing that the body was that of a male calmed him slightly. But then his eyes floated to the next body, and his heart stopped. Under the shreds of clothing and dried blood covering most of her body lay Emma, as still as the dead.

"It's her," he croaked hoarsely, and immediately flew into the pit to retrieve her.

He knelt beside her, sick with anguish and rage. He looked for a place he could check for a pulse, but with the many punctures and rips shredding her skin, it was near impossible. He decided simply to put his ear to her chest and listened. Although faint and far too slow for a human, she still had a heartbeat. "She's alive, but barely!" he shouted up to the group above. Her breathing was ragged and shallow as if a lung perhaps had been punctured. Wasting no more time, he gingerly lifted her from the ground into his arms and flew up and out of the pit.

"Raphael, Cassiel, come quick!" he ordered as he rested Emma on the floor of the chamber. Her body had been so mutilated that she resembled a ragdoll put through a shredder. Kemuel immediately took Hannah into his arms and turned her away from the gruesome sight. She did not resist.

"Dear God in heaven!" Raphael gasped. "Cassiel, quickly, we must heal the inside first, then we'll move to the outer parts." Cassiel moved quickly into position as they both began the tedious work of bringing a life back from the brink of death. And not just any life, but their Great Savior Mother.

Hours, it seemed, went by in utter silence as they wielded their energies to knit together internal organs, reattach torn muscles, and repair broken bones. Once those life-saving tasks were accomplished, the feverish speed with which they worked slowed considerably to a more comfortable pace. Suturing her surface wounds, even by their alternative methods, was a delicate process considering the depths of some of the scratches and punctures. They wanted to make sure no scar would mar her skin. They wanted no reminders of the cruelty she must have endured to haunt her.

Through it all, Michael held her hand, the right one with the scarred palm. It was the only place, oddly enough, that had no signs of damage. Through it all, as well, Emma hadn't stirred, and that concerned him greatly.

***

As the healing continued, Raphael left Cassiel to finish the surface wounds, and he switched positions to sit by Emma's head. He breathed deeply, placing one hand on her heart and one hand on her head, and began the healing again.

An immediate change came over him. His hands shook, his body convulsed and he let out a howl so raw, the others covered their ears from the piercing pain of it. Raphael's hands leapt off of Emma's body as though they had touched fire, and his body was thrown clear across the chamber. Nathanael was closest to him and rushed to his aid.

"I'm all right, I'm all right," he assured everyone, a bit breathless as he slowly got to his feet again. "Thanks."

"What the hell happened?" Nathanael asked.

"Everything was fine until I went to heal her heart and mind. Nathanael, I can't begin to describe what I saw and felt. What she went through—I can't fix it, brother. I can't fix it," he faltered, shaking his head and looking completely defeated.

"What's going on?" Michael called out. "Come on back here and finish her healing."

"I-I can't, Michael. I could fix everything else, but I can't fix this. It's horrible in there, man. And Cassiel certainly can't. Together, all the Saviors are still no match to heal her heart and mind. It's far too powerful and dark. I-I'm sorry, brother. I'm so sorry." He turned away to sit down, and put his head in his hands.

"So that's it? Her body is fine but her heart and mind are lost to us forever?" Michael began stroking her hair compulsively. "Why, that's absurd. It won't do, you hear? I won't let it be over. There has to be something else you can do. There has to be!" He stood with fists raised in defiance. "I didn't come this far only to be denied my future. My future lies with Emma and Hannah. Don't you understand? We're the Trinity. We're supposed to be together. How can we be together if you can't fix her?" He walked, blinded by grief, to the stairway and pounded his fists against it. His body slumped against the wall in abject misery.

***

Hannah quietly walked over to her mother and lay beside her. She snuggled up against her as if she were going to sleep. And she whispered, "Mama, what should we do? You always know. You're the one who always saves me. Tell me what to do." She grabbed her mother's scarred hand in her own and held it close, stroking her own cheek with it for comfort. She felt a glimmer of an idea begin to surface. Her mother must be communicating with her somehow! She listened with her heart, and made a plan with her mind.

Hannah kissed her mother's cheek, walked over to Michael, and placed a gentle hand on his left wing. He turned and fell to his knees before her. This time there was no stopping the barrage of tears that fell. "I failed her, Hannah. I failed you. Just damn me to Hell. I'm halfway there already."

She wiped away his tears and it was little Hannah who spoke. "Don't cry, Michael. Mama's going to be okay. Come with me, come." She pulled him over to where Emma lay unmoving. "We can fix her heart and mind, Michael. Mama told me how. Remember when we saved you?" He nodded silently. "Mama and I had cut our hands on the ritual knife and were bleeding. We put our hands on your shoulder where you were bleeding. We fixed you. You have your wing back and you're not dead."

"But we don't have the ritual knife anymore, honey. How do you think we can fix your Mama?"

"Watch and follow me. Mama told me what to do. We've got nothing left to lose and everything to win."

"You are one courageous, little girl. You know that?"

Hannah smiled at Michael and sat by Emma's right arm. Michael sat by her left. "Let's hold hands and place them over Mama's heart and forehead."

Michael obeyed.

"I know you're not a Savior, Michael. I'm not either, but Mama is, and I know she will find her way back to us if we do exactly what she told me to do. I just know it."

"I'm ready, are you?" he asked.

"Ready," she answered, finally seeing a spark of hope light up his eyes.

They linked hands as Hannah had described, took two deep breaths and closed their eyes. Hannah's scar began to throb and glow just like Emma's. Michael's wing glowed as well, and fluttered erratically. They were instantly aware of Emma's desperation to return to her family and forget the horrors of her torture.

At first, only a glimmer of light emanated from them. That glimmer grew stronger and brighter until it became the brilliant aura that had encompassed the three in Emma's backyard. And then, Hannah heard something that was music to her ears.

"Hannah." Emma spoke in little more than a whisper.

"Mama!" Hannah cried out. "You came back! I knew you'd come back!" But Emma didn't respond. Hannah nudged her. "Mama? Michael, she's not saying anything."

"Let's try it again. I don't think she's really back yet. Maybe we need to do this holding hands thing a little longer this time."

"Come on, then!" She grabbed Michael's hands quickly and they poked and prodded Emma's heart and mind back to them for good this time.

Emma opened her eyes a crack, and Hannah smiled.

"Hannah, my angel," Emma cooed weakly. "You heard me. I thought I was dreaming; that it was too good to be true. But you really heard me."

"We're magic, Mama. Remember?"

"Yes, sweetheart. We're magic." Hannah felt the comforting squeeze of her mother's hand. "Michael, where's Michael?"

"I'm right here, honey. Welcome back. We've missed you something fierce." Hannah smiled as Michael took up her mother's hand and layered kisses firmly on her palm.

"I've missed you, too." A watershed of tears flowed down her temples. "You two were the only things keeping me going. Thank God you're both okay."

Emma pulled Michael and Hannah to her and embraced them both. She kissed Hannah atop her head, and then kissed Michael gently but soundly on his lips, right in front of her. And Hannah didn't mind it at all.

***

"All right! Break it up! Break it up! Let us have a chance to welcome Emma back to the land of the living!" Cassiel snorted, shoving his way through the crowd. "Can you turn off the lightshow, though? I'm bound to be the first blind angel in history."

Michael laughed, shaking his head, and as they released each other from their grasp, the brilliant aura faded. "You're a real pain in the ass, Cassiel," he admonished, giving him a shove. "But you're young still, so I'll forgive you. For now."

Michael watched as one by one the other Brethren kneeled down, kissed Emma's cheek, and gave her their biggest, brightest smiles along with well wishes. She smiled back.

He hoisted Emma in his arms, making ready to leave.

"Raphael, there's another body in the pit. It's in bad shape. We should give him a proper burial." Raphael immediately flew down first to see if there was any identification on him. That way they could notify his next of kin.

"I know who that is," Emma remarked. "It's the body of the man Agremon possessed when he came to me and took Hannah."

Raphael came back up with a wallet in his hands. "Says here his name is Jared Sikes. Lived in Sedona. There's a picture, too. Looks like it's of him and a girlfriend or sister, maybe. I'll take it with me and see what we can do about finding family." Raphael stuck it in his back pocket. The Brethren made quick work of filling the pit, saying a few prayers, and marking the improvised grave.

***

Nathanael led them out of the chamber and back through the twisting tunnels of the mine. "Is Namirha gone, Michael? Is it over?" Emma whispered in his ear.

"No, we haven't seen him or sensed him in a while. He's bound to make an appearance, I'm sure. But don't worry; we won't let him get to you or Hannah. We're ready for him."

She relaxed in his arms and watched as the Brethren ahead of her exited the mine. The three of them were just reaching the opening when he suddenly appeared, providing an effective roadblock between them and the rest of the Brethren. Emma noticed the others hadn't turned around. _Why aren't they_ _turning around?_ Michael slowly lowered her to her feet, so that the three of them stood side by side.

"Emma, great to see you looking so well," Namirha sneered. "Michael, you, too. Hannah, my prodigal daughter. Are you ready to return to my loving arms?"

_He looks different from when I saw him last_ , Emma noted. His face had grown gaunt and ashen. And even though he wore a robe, she could tell the rest of his body was skin and bones. His failure to retrieve Hannah's powers had left him depleted, with no chance to bounce back.

"Get out of our way, Namirha," Michael commanded. "You waged your war and failed. And if I were a betting man, I'd say you just used up the last of any power you may have had shielding your presence from us. So go back to Hell and have your hounds lick your wounds. It's over."

"My influence is rooted deeply all over this world. Evil is everywhere. I may have lost this war, but I'll be back. It's not over. It's never over."

Before he could say or do anything, Michael calmly directed, "Hands, now." Emma grabbed his and Hannah's in hers and their aura immediately erupted. With Namirha temporarily blinded, Emma pulled the two behind her, and moved them past him and out of the mine. Then, they all raised their hands and pushed their energy towards the opening until their arms were completely outstretched. The Trinity's enormous surge of energy slammed Namirha against an inner cave wall, his entire body becoming entombed like a fossil. The blast was so strong that it caused another cave-in, sealing the entrance to the mine with tons of rock and debris.

"You're right, now it's over." Michael dusted off his leather pants as best he could and shook his wings to free the little granules that had fallen in between the feathers.

Emma heard a stifled giggle escape from Hannah. "What's so funny?" "You!" Hannah giggled, pointing to Michael. "You look like a goose doing that!" She laughed even louder.

"A goose!" Michael balked, looking shocked. "I look like a goose to you? Geez, I'm an angel, I just saved our lives, and all you can say is I look like a goose. I don't even rate looking like a swan? Come here, you! I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson on the difference between a goose and an angel!"

Emma watched, amused as Michael swept Hannah off her feet and squeezed her. She squealed with delight. "You see, a goose couldn't do this with you, now could it?" Michael tossed Hannah high into the air, and as she fell back to earth, he soared up to catch her. "How about that?" He then planted her gently back on her own two feet firmly on the ground.

"Wow," was all she could muster.

"Brothers!" Michael called out to the Brethren who had finally turned around to see what was holding up the Trinity. "Namirha has been defeated."

The Brethren cheered as they unsheathed their swords, raised them in the air, and touched the points. The inscriptions on the blades glowed and hummed for a moment, and then returned to their regular state. With the swords safely sheathed once more, it was time to return home.

"Can you take Hannah back to her house, Cassiel?"

"No problem. Hey, I'm starving! Anyone else? I wonder if the pizza place is still standing." Cassiel blathered on while flying away with her.

"So," Michael said, turning to face Emma. "So."

"So, I guess you'll be needing a lift home?"

"Looks that way. It seems like my friends have run off with my daughter, and abandoned me. But are you going my way?"

"Whatever way you're going is my way, forever and always."

"Yeah, about that," she began as he picked her up in his arms. "You see, um, well, I don't know if you noticed while you and Hannah were healing me, but um, oh, how do I put this?" Emma was stumbling over her words again.

"You"—he kissed her cheek—"and Hannah"—he kissed her other cheek—"have become immortal." He kissed the tip of her nose.

"Yes!" Emma chirped. "I can feel it in the both of us. But I'm not sure how it happened, although I do have my suspicions regarding that ritual knife."

"We'll figure it out, as soon as I get you home and make love to you for a couple of weeks or months or years, straight."

As they flew home, Emma knew her shivers had nothing to do with the cool night air and everything to do with the glorious anticipation of Michael's decree.

Chapter Thirty-Two

" _Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Hannah! Happy birthday to you!"_ The cheerful song was thunderous in the house as the Brethren bellowed it out, and Emma loved it. Although it was sung over a pizza rather than a cake, she could see Hannah didn't care. It was still her birthday for another six minutes.

"Make a wish, honey," Emma coaxed, rumpling Hannah's hair.

Hannah closed her eyes and opened them. She announced stubbornly, "You know, I think I deserve more than one wish after all that's happened, so I'm going to make wishes and I want you all to hear them."

"Well, okay then, Miss Warrior, let's hear them."

"First, I wish that I could have a swimming pool in the backyard. Second, I wish that Seraphiel could come back to us. Third, I wish that everything in those towns would be back to the way it was. That's what I want. Oh, and that Mama and Michael get married!" She blew out her seven candles, one for each year, and one for good luck. "There! Now, can I have a piece of pizza, please?"

"Absolutely, Birthday Girl." Emma chuckled and began serving up the pieces to everyone. "Seems we have some negotiating to do with some of those wishes, little one." When slices of pizza were duly passed around, and the Brethren were deeply involved in their meals, she took Michael aside.

"Michael, is there anything to be done about Seraphiel? Can he be brought back to us?

"I'm not sure. Agremon knew the only way to kill one of us, and it's forever as far as I know."

"And what about all the mortals that died and the towns that lay in ruins? Can they be saved?"

"You know, you saw what we were able to do to Namirha when the three of us worked together. It's worth a shot to see what else we can do," Michael ventured. "Maybe we can turn things to rights. I mean, you're a Savior, I'm a Protector, and

Hannah's a Warrior. We are The Trinity, are we not?"

"Why yes we are. Let's finish our birthday pizza then, and after, we can see about fixing things."

"That sound like a great idea," Michael agreed.

They walked back to join the others who were eagerly dipping into the newly opened boxes of assorted pizzas. It truly was a time to feast, Emma thought, whether it was to be fit for a king or a six-year-old. As their hunger was finally appeased, they began to focus conversation on what was to happen next.

"We're going to try and put those towns back together," Michael said, "and return the mortals back to the land of the living." Hannah jumped and skipped around the family room, barely able to contain her joy.

"Well, I don't know about anybody else," Cassiel declared, "but I've got a caseload of sick kids waiting for me back at the office. E.L.'s probably going to call a meeting to debrief us on the war, and that could take another week all by itself. If I don't get to work, I'll be drowning in even more paperwork."

After a round of handshakes, hugs, and kisses goodbye, one by one the Brethren left. Knowing that they'd see them soon enough didn't make their leaving any easier for Emma. Where once they were only two, they now had a family of ten, and it felt wonderful. She watched and waved from the threshold until all the Brethren were gone.

"Emma, before Raphael left, he told me what we need to do if we're to be successful with our plan. We have to increase our powers more than what simple meditation can do for us. Let's go to Hannah's room."

"Okay, but why? We can meditate just as easily in the family room, and more comfortably, I might add."

"Remember what Raphael said about this house, this land being on one of those magnetic lines of a vortex?" She nodded. "Well, the line runs right under Hannah's bedroom."

"Oh my. Well that explains a lot, doesn't it?"

Michael had them sit in a circle on the floor and hold hands. As they closed their eyes, the Trinity's aura began to glow brilliantly for a few moments and then dimmed. Hannah's and Emma's scars tingled like a low electric volt was passing through their palms. Michael experienced the same feeling in his left shoulder blade. As the discomfort grew stronger, their strength and energy increased tenfold. Simultaneously, their eyes opened and radiated a brilliant white light for a matter of seconds before returning to their normal state.

"Whoa," Hannah muttered. "Whoa is right," Emma agreed.

"I think we're ready. Let's get to work, shall we?" Michael offered a hand up to Emma. His wings unfurled and as they made their way outside, he grabbed both Hannah and Emma.

"Hold on, everyone! Here we go!" He lifted off the ground and came back down sharply. He received cross glares from both Emma and Hannah. He tried again, and came back to earth.

"Only fooling!" He laughed, and took flight with the ease of a swallow. When they reached the top of the mesa and settled back to the ground, they stood at the edge to witness the devastation the war had wrought, and a silent reverence fell upon them. Only an atomic bomb could have done more damage. It occurred to Michael that Hannah's pictures of the devastation rang eerily true.

"Are we ready?" Michael asked quietly.

"Yes," Emma and Hannah answered together with eagerness.

"Then, let's hold hands, and focus our combined energy on bringing life back to the dead and restoring the towns to their original glory."

The Trinity's aura burst through their fingertips and eyes, and fanned out towards the battlefield below. Michael felt as though they were the sun, sending rays of light and hope over the land. He had them stand this way until their aura faded completely, knowing that all that could be done was done. Gazing out, he blinked a few times to make sure what he saw was true.

Lampposts that had been uprooted and twisted like shoelaces were now casting a warm glow over the towns' streets. Buildings that had been demolished were back to their normal state. Roads that had been pocked with craters from fireballs spewed by some demon of darkness were smoothly paved. Cars and trucks that had become charred skeletons sat pristine in their parking spaces. But the people, where were the people?

"Michael, where are the people?" Emma asked in a hushed whisper. "I don't know," he replied, puzzled.

"I do." They both stared at Hannah. Michael was surprised to see a smile on her face.

"Where are they, angel?" Emma asked softly as she touched her cheek. "They're home, sleeping. It's the middle of the night! What would people think if they found themselves walking around the streets in the middle of the night?" Hannah reasoned. She raised her fists in triumph. "We did it! We really did it!" "We sure did, Hannah. We sure did!" Michael picked her up and swung her around. "Hey, what's the matter, honey? Just a second ago you were cheering. Now you look all sad."

"It's time to say goodbye." "Goodbye? Goodbye to whom?"

"Goodbye to the Ancient Warrior soul. It's time for it to go."

"I thought you'd be happy to be little Hannah all the time again, sweetie." "Oh, I will be. It's just that, well, it's been with me for a while now and I kinda got used to having it around."

"Well, maybe you'll come across it again when you're older," Michael suggested. "You never know."

"Can you guys leave me alone for a couple of minutes while I say goodbye?" she asked.

Michael and Emma looked at each other and with silent agreement, Emma replied, "Sure, we'll be over by the altar. Let us know when you're ready to leave." Hannah sat on the ground and closed her eyes. Immediately she felt the hands of the Ancient Warrior soul on her shoulders. She opened her eyes and turned to find the angel, luminous as ever.

"I must go," it proclaimed. "My duty here is done." "I know. I'm going to miss you."

"Oh, I was a nuisance most of the time."

"No you weren't! You protected me, fought for me, and gave me courage when I didn't have any!" She paused and reached out to the Ancient Warrior as she smiled. "There are big things ahead for me, you know. Will I ever see you again?

Will you be there for the big things?" Hannah asked hopefully.

"Yes, my warrior, I will be there for the big things. I shall always look out for you. But I shall be there to watch from the sidelines as you come into your own." With a breath of a kiss on each cheek and a wave, the Ancient Warrior soul faded from sight.

Hannah stood, feeling empty yet at peace. "Mama!" she hollered. Emma ran over to her. "What is it, honey?" she asked nervously.

"I'm back, Mama, for good!" And she jumped into her mother's arms, giving her the biggest squeeze.

"I'm so glad, my baby, so glad!" Emma choked through the tears and sobs. "Let's go home then. It's been a very long and busy day for you, and way past your bedtime."

"Aw, Mama! But I'm not tired! Really!" Hannah argued jokingly.

"I've got two seats available for transport over to the Livingston residence," Michael announced. "Do I have any takers?"

"Me!" Emma cried out.

"Me, too!" Hannah added, raising her hand.

"Well then, climb aboard!" Michael opened his arms and they both ran to him. "Angel Airways, ready for takeoff!"

Hannah looked out at all the in-between places as they flew home. Emma had eyes only for Michael.

***

With Hannah finally tucked into bed, lights off, Emma and Michael found themselves alone. With a quick glance and a nervous smile at Michael, Emma walked back into the kitchen, and began cleaning away all the pizza boxes and cans of soda left on the table. Shame, guilt, and doubt had wormed their way back into her mind since returning from the mesa. She'd behaved like an ass. She'd been so afraid to trust, yet wound up being the untrustworthy one in all of this. She wouldn't be surprised if he had second thoughts and called it quits right here and now. But she'd be damned if she let him see her cry over it. She'd wait for him to leave.

Michael had followed her in, and as she reached for yet another empty box, he took her trembling hand. She froze and closed her eyes. _I can do this. I can keep_ _it together._ She willed herself not to breakdown.

"Emma, cleanup can wait," he reproved. "Come here, love." He coaxed her into his arms. "Let me hold you. You've been through quite an ordeal that, quite frankly, could break even the strongest of us immortals." He held her good and strong. "It destroyed me, you know, seeing you in that pit, thinking I'd lost you forever." She felt his lips press against the top of her head.

His touch was so good and right and perfect. _And I'm totally undeserving of_ _his words and attention. "_ None of it would have happened if I'd just followed the plan," she rebuked. "But I wavered and let everybody down. I don't know. Something came over me, a compulsion, to go it alone. I thought I could pit one evil against the other and they'd cancel each other out. It almost worked, too. But at the end of the day, no matter how I look at it, it's still my fault, Michael, and mine alone. My impetuousness is the reason I suffered and nearly died, and put you and Hannah through hell, literally, to save me. I'll bear that black mark for the rest of, well, eternity it seems." Angry, remorseful tears trailed silently down her cheek.

"We all have crosses of some kind to bear, love," he admitted, stroking her hair gently and kissing her temple. "It's what keeps us grounded. You did what you thought was right at the time for the sake of your daughter. No one is holding that against you. No one."

He didn't say we're finished, did he? I didn't hear him say we're through.

"You're not mad? You're not leaving, then?"

"Oh, I'm fuming that you put yourself in the hands of the Devil himself. But I understand. I would have done the same thing, truth be told." He held her away from him. "And no, I have no plans on leaving you, ever." She looked up into his eyes—eyes that forgave and told her she had nothing to fear ever again. "Do you remember it at all, Emma, the torture you had to endure?"

"I remember the hounds. I remember their eyes, their teeth, and their viciousness. But I don't remember the pain or the fear they inflicted," she affirmed. "That's what you and Hannah released from me. I will always remember the hounds, and their capabilities, but I will never feel the paralyzing fear ever again. It may serve me well in years to come, I should think."

"I know I promised you I'd make love to you for weeks upon weeks, but with Hannah around, reality has set in rather sharply. Would you settle for hour upon hour?"

"From now until forever is all I'm settling for, with some breaks in between for eating and working and taking care of Hannah, oh and—" Emma's next words were smothered by what she thought was the most flaming kiss ever recorded in the history books.

"I can live with that," Michael interrupted, lifting her off the ground as he plundered her mouth yet again with his.

Emma basked in the glory of Michael's attentions. Forgiven, accepted, and loved were more than she could have hoped for. Having her body worshipped by an angel sent her over the edge into pure bliss. Before they even reached the bed, Michael had peeled away her clothes as well as his. He unleashed wings that shimmered enticingly in the natural glow of the moonlight streaming through the window. Emma reveled in the splendor of their bodies touching, gliding, and moving in rhythmic harmony. His hands roamed all over her body, touching those places that had set her on fire before, and then found new ones to ignite. Emma's hands, in turn, kneaded the muscles that had pulled her from the brink of death, stroked the wings that flew her to freedom, and journeyed across the expansive landscape of Michael's body. He had teased her with his tongue, and she now teased him with her lips.

"Michael," Emma whispered, frantic with a desire that would not be extinguished. "I need you inside me, now!"

"God, yes! Right—now—"

She gasped as he sought and found the shelter of her waiting love. They came together in a fevered pitch of lust and love and unrestrained emotion. After, totally spent by their ardent lovemaking, Emma clung to Michael in her drowsy state as though afraid he would disappear.

"God, I want you all over again, my immortal lady. In truth, I don't think I'll ever be able to harness the passion and ecstasy you bring about in me. So be it." He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Say you'll marry me, Emma," Michael whispered into her hair.

Emma's grip unintentionally tightened. She leaned up onto his chest. "You know, forever is a long time when you're talking about marriage. Are you sure you can endure forever with me, Michael?"

He laid his hands gently upon her face and professed, "I'm sure I can't endure it without you." He kissed her so sweet and tender, it brought tears to her eyes.

"I'll marry you, Michael, now, forever, and always."

Epilogue

"Okay now, push! Push! Real hard, Emma! That's a girl!" Michael was yelling, sweat pouring down his face. Emma was huffing and puffing and pushing like crazy, her face turning beet red.

"Blow it out your ears, Michael! You want it so badly, you push! Ahhh!" Emma cried out. "In fact, why don't you take over for me right now? Ohhh! If I'd known you could do this to me, you jerk, why I'd, oohh! Look at you, standing there, feeling no pain, you bastard! Ahhh!"

"One more time, honey, push real hard! Push for your scheming, low-down, son of a bitch husband! Push!" Michael yelled, taking no offense at the thrashing he was getting from the woman giving birth to his first child.

"That's it, Emma, Michael. You have a beautiful baby girl!" The doctor proclaimed. A wail beyond all wails erupted from her tiny mouth.

"And she's got a great set of lungs on her, too!" Michael boasted. With trembling hands, he cut the cord.

The doctor brought the baby to Emma after cleaning her up and checking her vitals, and placed her in her arms. Emma looked at Michael and then upon her baby, and brought her to feed upon her breast. She counted out loud ten fingers and ten toes. She closed her eyes for a moment and then they suddenly opened wide like saucers.

"Oh! Ready for number two, everyone, 'cause I am!" Emma cried out. "Ohhh! Oh, dear God help me!"

The doctor rushed over and moved the nurse aside to take a look. "Here we go, baby number two."

"Push, Emma! I promise this one will be quick!"

"Ohhh!" Emma bore down and as she took a deep cleansing breath, she heard the wail, as strong as the first, come from her daughter's twin. Again, Michael cut the cord, the baby was cleansed, and vitals checked.

"A boy!" Michael announced, and brought him over for her to hold and check over. "Ten fingers, ten toes, just like your sister. Perfect!" she gushed, kissing his cheek and putting him to her breast.

Michael bent over Emma to plant a kiss on her forehead, but she looked up and he connected with her full on the mouth. He wasn't one to shy away from her lips, so he lingered, drowning in the succulence that was his wife and now mother to his children.

"You know," she said nuzzling his chin, "I didn't really mean any of those nasty things I said, really."

"I know you didn't. Remember, I'm to forgive you for your scathing tongue," he cajoled. "If there ever was a time that called for it, I'd say this was it."

"Would you get our daughter, please, and then get our newly crowned big sister in here? I'm dying to have our family all around me."

"Sure thing, love." Michael brought their baby daughter to rest in her other arm, and then went to the hall to get Hannah.

The hallway was filled with anxious faces and frayed nerves. Ending the suspense, he announced, "It's a girl! And a boy!"

Whoops and hollers filled the air. Michael was swarmed with hearty pats on the back and handshakes from the Brethren. All the while, he looked around for Hannah. She was a bit of a thing and was easily lost amongst them.

"Hannah? Where are you?" he called out.

"Over here, Daddy!" she yelled from on top of a chair a few doors down. God, how he loved that she'd started calling him that!

"Would you mind passing my daughter over to me, please? She has a sister and brother to meet!" he shouted to the crowd.

Hannah was passed through a sea of Brethren arms until she eventually came to rest in his. "Come on, big sister. Time to meet your new baby sister and brother."

***

As the tumult and fussing finally died down, and all of the doctors and nurses left for a while, Emma and Michael were alone with their children. With the babies in Emma's arms, Hannah next to her on the bed, and him standing by his wife's side, he felt complete.

"Let's welcome our babies, Blessing and Asher, to our family," he suggested. In an embrace that spoke volumes, they welcomed the babies. The Trinity's aura began to glow and grow, encompassing not only the Trinity, but now the babies as well.

"I can't wait to show you what wonders await you, my children," Michael murmured.

"Welcome to our family, little ones," Hannah cooed. Emma softly whispered, "Welcome to Eternity, my angels."

Michael returned Blessing and Asher to their bassinets, and then escorted Hannah out of the room to Kemuel's waiting arms. He would be taking her back home and playing nanny for a while. Back inside Emma's room, Michael walked over to the babies who were nestled snuggly in their bassinets sleeping like the little angels they were. In fact, Michael could already see their individual auras glowing.

He then tiptoed towards Emma's bed and stopped. Emma's eyes were closed and her skin was still dewy and blushed from her exertions. It was then he decided he'd never seen her look more beautiful, and was overcome by the devastating love he felt for her.

Emma stirred and caught him staring. She covered her face with her hands. "Ugh! Don't look at me that way, I'm a mess! I'm all sweaty and gross, you silly man!"

He closed the distance between them in two strides, gently removed her hands and settled his own around her face. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon, and you're glowing. Like our babies. They are truly a blessing," he stammered, choked with emotion.

"As are you, my angel." Emma turned her face to kiss both palms. "You answered my prayer and forever changed my life, our lives. Any regrets?" "Only that eternity won't be enough time to show how much I love you."

"Well, that settles it then," Emma proclaimed with a playful glimmer in her eye. "We'll just have to make eternity last forever."

SNEAK PEEK of RELIC, BOOK TWO

Prologue

Ancient Gaul

230 AD

"There she is, Mongrel! She's fallen on the ground. We can't let her escape us this time!"

"We've got her cornered, Cowen, never fear," he snickered. "Look, she can't even get up. Perfect...."

Although midnight, the moon shown as bright as the sun itself, and made for easy hunting. Sirona's predators picked up their pace as they began pursuit of her in earnest.

She'd craved a little breathing room for a long while now, some freedom of movement. No guards to watch her every move, no servants under foot. Now she found herself running for her life. Just a few more steps and she would be safe again, inside her temple. Her head ached from tripping and falling to the ground. She'd hit it soundly on the hardened earth, but knew she would be fine. A goddess, an immortal like her didn't need to concern herself with such trivial things as getting hurt. She could heal quickly, but needed to quicken her pace or else the menacing heathens would surely capture her.

Sirona staggered to her feet and charged ahead with all the speed of a tortoise. Her world was literally spinning out of control. She definitely didn't feeling like her usual self, but pushed the concern to the side, trying to focus and put one foot in front of the other. A disconcerting thought entered her mind. I am the Goddess of Healing! Why am I not healing?

Before she could reach sanctuary, the brutes were upon her. One of them grasped her neck while the other tackled her feet. In a heaving mass, they tumbled to the ground. Sirona's breath escaped her as the thugs landed blow upon blow. Writhing, she cried out in pain, confounded that the assault could be affecting her in such a mortal way. When she finally stilled, they wrapped her arms and legs in ropes, gagged her mouth, and hoisted her onto a wagon. She watched her temple and village shrink away in the distance.

Where are they taking me? Into the mountains? Do they know they've captured the one being that will make them invincible, immortal? They must. This is not good. Not good at all. As the thoughts skittered through the recesses of her mind, she succumbed to the unaccustomed pain of the peasants' assault and blacked out.

***

Sirona clawed her way back to consciousness, aware only of an incessant throbbing behind her eyes, and a dawning fear that she may not be so immortal after all. Another more disturbing thought occurred to her. If this were so, she may not live long enough to see her dream come true; to start a family with her husband, Raphael. She had recently married one of the Brethren Saviors; an angel, and her one and only love.

"So, you are awake. That is good. Let me make introductions," one said nonchalantly. "I am Cowen and this is Mongrel. We have a request of you. We hope you will oblige." She grunted at his bizarre manner. As though he really thought she would take him seriously. Ridiculous! He removed the gag from her mouth, propped her body up to a sitting position on the floor, and awaited her response. Taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly, she struggled to gain some semblance of composure.

"You can't be serious, heathen. You expect me to grant you anything after the beating I've taken from you, not to mention the fact that you've stolen me from my home. Never."

Cowen stood before her with arms opened wide, preening like a proud peacock. "Oh, but you see, once you grant us what we want, we will let you go free. You are immortal, so you can go on living forever. We just want our share in that way of life, you see. So if you'd be so kind and bestow your gift upon us, we'll no longer be a bother to you."

Her anger boiled over at their audacity. "You...you want me to give you the gift of regeneration? I won't do it!" She screeched. "You hear me, I won't!"

"Oh, but you will, Goddess, because the only other option for you is a most unfortunate death." Her heart skipped a beat as he stared straight through to her soul with an evil glint in his eye. He looked over at Mongrel and they laughed.

"That's impossible." She cleared her throat and muttered dismissively, "I cannot die."

"Oh, my dear, you have been misled if you believe so. If you don't yield to our request, you shall indeed find out how much. Mongrel! Give her a little taste of what we mere mortals fear most."

Mongrel lifted Sirona from her seat and tossed her without a care against the wall of the cave. She heard a furious snapping, like tree branches breaking from strong winds. Blinding light knifed through her skull, beckoning tears as her bones shattered.

She cried out for mercy.

"Will you grant us your gift?" Cowen purred.

"No, I can't," she whispered through her agony. "I won't."

"By the Gods." The miscreant scrubbed his face with his hands and paced around her broken body. "Mongrel, look for the mark, man. Look for the mark!"

"Where would it be?" He slunk over to Sirona's broken body as she fought for every shallow breath.

"It should be by her right shoulder, idiot. I've only told you a dozen or so times already! Now look!" Without ceremony, Mongrel quickly ripped the jade colored gown from her right shoulder. She wondered what her birthmark, a golden scar in the shape of a scepter, had to do with anything.

"I found it!"

"Good, now step aside and let me have a look at her." He pushed Mongrel aside as he approached Sirona with a contemptuous glare. "How dare you deny me such a simple request? If you won't give me your gift, then no one will have the opportunity either. Such a shame and a waste not to share your bountiful gifts with your followers." He spat on her and she flinched. "I give you one last chance to do the right thing. Give us your gift or die."

"An feidir le heinne cuidiu liom? Can anyone help me?" She whispered in hope of an answer, but felt no presence. Where is my love's connection to me? "Graim thu, anam chara. I love you, Raphael, my soul mate." With tears now streaming down her cheeks, she raised her voice and spoke clearly. "I choose death, heathen, and when my soul returns, my life shall be renewed while your body rots in the ground with maggots feasting on your flesh!"

Cowen took his dagger from its sheath and thrust it straight through the scepter mark. Golden light spilled from the gaping wound as Sirona keened with her last breath, "Raphael!"

***

Raphael charged into the Temple of Sirona. "Where is she? Where is my wife?" He asked anyone and everyone who would listen, but none knew and shook their heads solemnly. "Aiden," he called to one of the guards.

"Yes?"

"Something's wrong. I haven't been able to sense Sirona all day. Now, tell me where she is, man. Tell me so I can see her and know she's all right."

"I can't tell you something I don't know myself," Aiden worried the short beard on his chin. "We've been looking for her since after midnight when she fooled us into thinking she slept. She's wanted to free herself of the guards for hundreds of years now, even though she knows we are here to protect her gift at all costs. Looks like she finally succeeded. Everyone who can is looking for her, I promise."

Raphael looked around at the hordes of followers bringing the day's offerings to the temple and felt a sudden chill run up his spine. He unfurled his wings and took flight, praying he'd find her safe somewhere admiring the beautiful scenery. He would give his impetuous, stubborn wife a strong talking to. But as he approached a set of foothills, every nerve-ending in his body fired at once, filling his heart with dread. A golden sandal glinted in the sunlight near a cave opening. He descended to get a better look and knew, as he came closer, that it belonged to her. He picked it up and unsheathed his sword as he cautiously entered. On the ground were drag marks. He quickened his steps. Another sandal lay in his path and he picked it up, as well. He whispered forcefully, "Sirona, where are you? It's me!" He took a few more steps. He stopped just short of stumbling over her. There she lay, in a crumpled heap with a dagger's hilt sticking out of her right shoulder blade. "Oh, dear Gods, Sirona!"

He immediately set to work with his healing powers. Carefully he removed the dagger and closed the wound. He worked deeply to repair the torn tissue, and discovered nearly every bone in her body had been broken. He turned her to lie flat and began to knit those bones back together. So focused on the gravity of the injuries, he didn't notice her unusual stillness. He moved to heal her mind and soul. His hands turned to ice when he placed them on her forehead and heart. No heartbeat.

"No, it's not possible." What the hell is going on here? "This can't be. Sirona, wake up. You...you can't be dead. Wake up, I say. Sirona!"

He stood, cradling her body to his, wings trembling furiously, and screamed his rage, "No!" He fell to his knees and swayed back and forth with her in his arms. He kissed her hair gently and cried out, "Mo chroi, mo chuisle, graim thu. My heart, my darling, I love you. I beg you. Please don't leave me to face this world without you! I need you with me, by my side, forever always. Don't leave me all alone. I am nothing without you!"

What he had flown in urgency, he now walked with despair. Within his arms he carried a precious bundle, the woman he loved. And as he walked, people noticed and followed behind in a mournful pilgrimage. He ultimately laid her to rest on the altar where offerings were usually left in her honor. While her shell-shocked priests and followers carried out their rituals to prepare her for the afterworld, Raphael left to make a pilgrimage of his own....to the Beyond, where he had come from. To his liege, E.L.

He pushed the security guards aside as he stalked, undaunted to his office.

"Excuse me, Raphael, but he's busy right now. Raphael!" His hand swiped a stack of papers off the secretary's desk. Her disgruntled mumbles fell unheeded at his heels. The floor-to-ceiling, stone double doors wouldn't stop him either. He pushed them open as easily as he would curtains, and stalked over to his superior's desk. He rested his hands on the mammoth slab of bronze, his muscles pumping with pent up fury.

"My work for you as a Brethren Savior has kept me from saving the one I cherished more than my own immortal live. I can't live throughout eternity without her and bear this guilt and misery. I won't. I don't want to feel love for anyone ever again. So I ask you, as my boss, to do what's right. Wipe all memories of Sirona from my mind. Harden my heart so I will never feel love's pain anymore. That's the only way I will be the Savior you created me to be."
Chapter One

Sedona, Arizona

Eighteen months ago

"Yo, Serena. Get a load of this!"

"Get a load of what?" Serena shouted as she jumped down from her jeep and poured the waiting bucket of cool water over her head. "Ahh, just what the doctor ordered." She breathed in deeply, dragged her fingers through the tangled mess of honey-kissed hair, and sighed. It had been a brutally hot tour of Sedona's most popular vortex sites this morning.

"You got one heck of a package delivered earlier. It's sitting on your desk. Why don't you go into your office and check it out?" Callie had mischief in her eyes and a shit-eating grin on her face.

Serena shook out her hair and wiped her face with her shirt sleeve as she walked past her best friend. She gave her a playful a shove and stuck her tongue out as she pushed her way through the door to her office. She froze a moment and screamed.

"Jared!" Leaping to her desk, she nearly knocked her brother off his perch with a hug. "I can't believe it. When did you get back from Germany?"

"Whoa! Hey there, big sis. I just got back today. God, it's great to see you, even if you are soaking wet." He smiled as he swiped at his dampened cheeks.

"Yeah, well you don't need me tellin' you how freakin' hot it is out there, now do ya'? So, spill it," she continued while scrutinizing his bedraggled appearance, "how's your boss been treating you? Digging morning to night, even if it's a rare archeological find, can't be fun. I hope Mr. Big Shot Archeologist is at least going to give you some credit for helping with the dig. I know you don't have any kind of schooling or credentials, but clearing away dirt from important artifacts still takes a level of skill. You should be getting something for your efforts don't you think? Money would be even nicer, come to think of it. He is paying you something, isn't he?"

He crossed his arms and waited with a mask of familiar annoyance. "You done?"

"I think so," she conceded and grinned. "For now."

"I just get back, and all you can ask is if I'm getting paid for my work? Christ, but you never let up a bit, do you? If you must know, I am getting paid. In more ways than one. And that's all I'm saying. I'm a grown man, Serena. Back off. Now, knowing it's your birthday tomorrow, I thought I'd come back with a gift for the most incredible, if not the most overbearing, sister in the world."

"Oh, really you didn't have to," she admonished. "I know you're broke. Just having you home is gift enough for me." He snorted. She laughed, too, and shook her head in defeat. "Oh, all right. What on earth could you have gotten me? And how much is missing from my bank account because of it?"

"Very funny, and I didn't raid your bank account for anything. Here, open it." He handed her an unwrapped Styrofoam box. She opened it gingerly; an inexplicable feeling of excitement and dread washed over her as a figurine slowly emerged. A bronze statue appeared, about ten inches tall, of a beautiful woman in a long, flowing gown, holding a serpent in one hand and a shallow cup, in the other. She had a star shaped crown on her head from which a veil draped down. The stunning woman's face remarkably mirrored Serena's own. Her mouth dropped open, but no words came out.

"I finally did it! You're actually speechless!" He slapped a hand on his knee. "This is brilliant! Happy birthday, Serry. When I saw her face peering up from the ground, she immediately reminded me of you, so I had to have her. For you, I mean. Hey, you only turn thirty once, you know."

Serena lumbered over to her office door to close it, and returned to her desk. As she sat, she stared at the piece of art still cradled in Styrofoam, troubled. Her brows took on their familiar scowl as she readied herself for yet another infernal but necessary interrogation of her brother. Every time he brought home something that cost more than a dinner at Wendy's, he was suspect. And with good cause. She remembered soberly how, on more than one occasion he'd acquired items that had "fallen off the truck", and landed in hot water with their parents. Before he'd left for the dig, they'd fought constantly about how much she paid him to run tours at the shop. To have the finer things in life, he'd argued, he deserved and needed more.

"Before I say thank you, tell me everything, now. Where did you get this? How did you get this? Are the police going to storm in here at any minute looking for you? Oh, my God! Should I even be touching it?" She took in some deep breaths to calm her racing heart and over-taxed brain. This wouldn't be the first time her brother seriously screwed up and landed in jail. To make matters worse, he didn't have their parents to bail him out anymore. Not with their mother long since passed and Father in a nursing home.

"There you go again, believing the worst of me. You make it so hard to do something special for you." She groused and rolled her eyes at his whining tone. "Now listen, I got this relic fair and square. Dr. Chappo told me I could keep this one because it has some kind of damage that makes its value much less than the others we found. But since it's still such a rare find, I gotta ask you to keep it in a safe place. Like maybe at the bottom of our well out back, I don't know. But it needs to be kept somewhere only you know. There are dangerous relic thieves everywhere who would do about anything to get their hands on a piece like this. We ran across them a lot over in Germany."

I bet you're one of them, too, damn it. "If that's the case, why give this to me? Why give me something I can't enjoy seeing all of the time? I mean, I'm grateful, but this sounds a bit on the sketchy side to me. And, maybe you haven't thought about it, but you could be putting my life in danger with this."

"Enough with the drama, lady! There's nothing sketchy about it at all. I promise. You're safe. Listen, I gotta go. I have things to do before I head back to Dr. Chappo's. I won't be able to get together with you tomorrow. That's why I came today. I gotta run! I'll call you. Remember, store that relic in a secret place. See ya when I see ya!"

He kissed her quick, hugged her hard, and left like a bat out of hell.

She could scream. She. Could. Just. Scream. Not fifteen minutes after he arrived, Jared left again. No questions about Dad's health. No idea when he would come back to give tours. Serena'd had it with Mr. Unreliable. She'd made a grand gesture of offering him a position at her company, giving him responsibility and a paycheck, and as usual, he squandered his money and showed up when he wanted. She had been ready to toss his ass out when the offer to go to Germany with some high-brow archeologist came his way. He left her a tour guide short, and no number where he could be reached.

Serena set the box down on her desk without even taking out the figurine and shook her head. She didn't know what to do with it. She just knew that Jared was into something, and it couldn't be good. His getting 'hired' and the whole trip to Germany with this Dr. Chappo happened in a whirlwind and left no time to check credentials. A cursory glance at Dr. Chappo's minute bio on the internet didn't produce any flags, but she still questioned his desire to have her brother join his team. But, like Jared said, he's a man now, and he has to live with the choices he makes.

When she saw him again, she planned on having a serious sit down with him, and laying the deal on the line once and for all. If he didn't like it, 'Mr. Man' could fend for himself. If she could show the same kind of bluster to Jared's face as she did in her mind, and not back pedal, it'd be a miracle. Truth be told, she was his personal a doormat. He was all she had, besides Dad; who sat day upon day in a nursing home after a massive stroke left him mute and unable to tend to his own needs. So she tolerated Jared's irresponsible ways, to a point. This latest eyebrow raiser was the last straw.

Being the owner of her own company had its privileges, one being Serena could come and go as she pleased. Since she'd already done her one tour of the day, she elected to high-tail it home with the statue and figure out a safe place for it. But first she would find out a little bit about the darn thing.

Kinda creepy that her face looks so much like mine.

"Callie-girl," she called out. "I'm heading home for the day. Keep things running smoothly for me, will ya'?"

"Sure, no problem, Boss Lady. Hey, I got a chance to talk to your brother for a bit before you came back. He's buzzin'. Either he's jacked up on something or excited to see you after, what's it been, a month?"

"More like two. God, I can't help it, I feel like something's up with him. I wish I knew more about this Dr. Chappo and the dig Jared helped him with. But I know he's a big boy. I can't baby him forever."

"Good girl! Those hikes along the vortexes must be helping."

"Try Spiritual Healing with Monica Rainchild. I know, it sounds hokey, but she's really been helping me deal with all my issues, Cal. Burning a hole in my pocketbook too, but whatever helps, right?"

"Right! See you tomorrow." Callie ran to pick up the ringing phone. "Sikes and Sounds of Sedona, how can I help you?"

Serena walked out into the oppressive heat and around back to her jeep. Normally, she loved the sun and the heat, but lately she felt a thousand years old by the time her daily Vortex tour ended, and couldn't wait to get home and rest. Maybe I'm getting sick. No, she knew the reason. She hadn't been sleeping well. Too much stress.

She'd been pulling wicked long hours during the spring and the beginning of the summer without a break. After long days in the jeep, she'd go and sit with her father in the nursing home; feeding him dinner, making one-sided small talk, and assuring herself of the excellent care by the staff. She'd cut back on both, but she still felt drained. Now, with Jared coming home with such an extravagant gift for her.... Well, she hoped everything was on the up and up. Deep down, though, she knew better. But what could she do?

While driving up the winding path to the house, she let her mind wander back through memories of her childhood. She and her brother had played their own special tag game of roadrunner and coyote in the desert landscape surrounding the house. At twilight, while watching the sun set on many an evening, she'd often tell her dad that when she grew up she was going to ride people around showing them the beauty of the land. She'd promised to live in that very home with her husband, five kids, two dogs, two cats, and a parrot named Jim. He always raised his eyebrows and chuckled at the "five kids" remark, telling her that having two kids was insane enough, let alone five. But she had always argued that those dreams would become reality.

Well, with the family pretty much decimated, home felt more like an empty shell than the loving home of the 'old days' or what so long ago she'd imagined it to be as her future. For her, many dreams lay trapped within the very walls that had protected her growing up. Dreams of talking about first love and heartache with her mother, her parents walking her down the wedding aisle, them bouncing her children on their knees, and watching Serena become a success. All those dreams, trapped like the insulation in the walls. In fact, these days, Serena felt more at ease out in the open desert than under her own roof, where those dreams kept crying out for freedom. She shook off the melancholy feelings that threatened to take hold.

"Okay, shower first, information on the relic second, sleep third," she told herself out loud. As if there's anyone around to care what the hell I do. The shower soothed her weary body, and as she slathered on Lily of the Valley body lotion, she skirted around memories of her mother massaging the same lotion into her sun-burned skin as a child. Shaking off the reverie, she sat at her computer desk in her bedroom. "Time to find out about our little bronze woman." It took some perseverance and nifty searching on the internet, but before her hair could dry, she identified her twin in bronze.

"Well, I'll be damned," she murmured. "You, my dear, are a freakin' goddess. The Celtic goddess, Sirona, for Christ's sake! The Goddess of Healing. Can you heal my crazy mind, huh? Guess not. You'd sure save me a lot of money, though." She chuckled and shook her head.

The relic, in its Styrofoam box, rested on her bureau. Serena turned in her seat to look at it. Drawn like an addict to a syringe, she walked over and took the statue out of its protective case. The weight surprised her, and the coolness of the bronze sent shivers up her arms. As she held it in her hands, a growing queasiness and lightheadedness enveloped her. Her bedroom spun out from underneath her. She fell hard to the floor and blacked out.

***

"Raphael," Serena whispered as her eyes opened. She turned her head to the right and saw the relic fisted tightly in her hand. Searing pain in her right shoulder blade sent shockwaves down her arm. She winced as she sat up and leaned against her bed. She looked for the source of the pain, but she saw no wound. As she massaged the area, the pain gradually subsided into nonexistence.

Vague memories echoed through her mind like a fading dream, both terrifying and puzzling her. She'd been chased, cornered, and kidnapped. And the pain in her shoulder—she'd been stabbed. She felt her shoulder again. What the hell just happened? What's Jared given me? With trembling hands, she rested the statue on her night table. Shakily, she crawled under the covers of her bed, and tried rocking herself back to calmness. Time to call Monica Rainchild.

SNEAK PEEK of ANGEL RISING BOOK ONE

Prologue

It isn't a pretty world for invisible children to live in. Not a chasing-butterflies-and-puppy-dog-tails kind of dream world either. Rather, these children subsist in nightmarish roach-infested, flea-bag motels, government funded apartments, and innocuous suburban homes across the country, chained to bedposts, locked in closets, hidden away from the civilized world, to be at the beck and call of loathsome, degenerate adults. No matter the building type, they know of these children's plight all too well. If walls could talk, they'd speak of horrific, exploitive crimes against these innocents on a daily basis, and the champion who would see all of their captors struck down and sent back to Hell, a Brethren Protector named Gabriel Seeker.

This is his story, and of a woman's, dear to his heart, who wrestled with a childhood, singularly unusual and at times dangerous, but never once had to wonder who'd protect her from the evils of the world. Born thirty-six years ago, she was the child prophesied to become the Great Warrior Child, and then the first female Brethren Warrior when she matured to a certain age. Hannah Livingston is her name, and that milestone birthday is a mere six weeks away. So is her immortality.

A long time has passed since the apocalyptic war between Satan and The Brethren for the sake of her soul and the fate of the world. Many years since Hannah's thought about her role in the Brethren organization and how living for an eternity will feel.

A new showdown is brewing between good and evil. It will be a time for immortals and mortals to come together as one united army and watch a new angel rising.

Chapter One

"You have two follow up emails to send before you do anything today, and three appointments running consecutively after lunch, so make sure you're back here by one o'clock." Hannah's stiletto heels click-clacked against the tile floor in rapid-fire succession on her way to Gabriel's office. "Oh, and Marty's called in sick, again. You know that's the fifth time in two weeks. Laney will be in late for the rest of the week. She has to take the kids to her mother's since their day care facility is getting fumigated for termites. Barbara and Stanley are already out on surveillance for the Robinson case, so it looks like it's just you and me holding down the fort. Any questions?"

"Yes. When do you stop to breathe?"

Hannah spun around and rolled her eyes as she waited for her boss to catch up. "Seriously, Gabriel, you walk way too slow. If I can walk fast in these torture devices with five inch heels, you can at least have the decency to keep up in your comfy Italian designer shoes. Now, come on. Time is freedom." She grabbed the crook of his arm and urged him onward to his office. "And as for breathing? It's overrated."

"Is it now? I find it comes in quite handy on many an occasion. You need to slow down! What do you always tell me? Take a breath. Smell the flowers. I have an account with the florist now, as you know. We have pretty-smelling flowers everywhere in the building. Try taking a sniff or two yourself."

She dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "I don't know what's gotten into you today, Mister Sunshine. You're confusing me. A confused Hannah is not good for my health. Where's the Doom and Gloom Gabriel, the ultra-serious Brethren, I've learned to appreciate and expect over the years? Did you wake up on the right side of the bed this morning?"

He shrugged, but said nothing.

"I'll tell you exactly what's going to happen if I follow that lovely directive of yours and take a breath. You're gonna go crazy, as if you weren't already, which in turn will drive me crazy. You like this pace. It gets quick results. That's what you want, isn't it? The quicker you get into a case and solve it, the quicker you can start a new one. Am I right or am I right? Be honest now."

She nudged his arm and swore she could hear him chuckle under his breath. Score!

"Okay! You're right. I'm an impatient bastard when it comes to these cases."

"So, in this instance, my exuberance, fast pace, and high tolerance for no air in my body gets you desired results."

Gabriel shook his head and opened his office door, ushering her inside first. "I give up. You're right. I don't know what I'd do without you as my assistant. I don't think we'd have gotten as many cases closed over the years without your taskmaster spirit."

"You're welcome. Now, about these tasks to be done for this morning's mission—the Evans case...."

"Yes, well, there is no mission without Marty." He shut the door behind him. "He's lead on that one, so any morning field work is scrubbed. We have a couple of other open cases that need some research before we can move forward with them."

"I could do it with you."

"Well, the research is pretty cut and dry...."

"No, I mean Marty's case. I can do the mission today. I know the case and what his plans are since I handle all the mission files."

"It's too dangerous for you out there. No." Gabriel sat down in front of his network of computers and wouldn't look at her.

"Are you kidding me right now? We have a case that can't wait for Marty to get well. We're talking, what? Ten kids? More? He's already behind schedule. Every day you wait for him to get better is another day that those kids are exploited. I don't think you want that resting on your shoulders."

He grumbled and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Fuming, she slammed a hand on his desk and leaned in. A raised eyebrow gave her pause. Had she gone too far? She backed down into a chair and lowered her voice.

"Don't insulate me. I'm not a museum piece to be stowed away in one of your art galleries. I think I've earned my stripes here a long time ago." Her hands had found the long bow of her flouncy, silk blouse and worried the ends into disarray. She glanced down, smoothed them out, and flattened her hands on her jeans. "You know I have."

"Damn it! I know all too well, Hannah. It's something I've never forgotten. Protecting is what I do. I can't just turn it off because of who you are, or what you're going to be. I'm a Protector, and you will be protected by me. But you're right. We can't wait any longer. These kids are counting on us even though they have no idea we exist or that we're about to set them free."

"So, it's a go? You and me today. We're gonna pick up where Marty left off?"

Another grumble. "Let me see the file, would you?"

"Sure, it's in Marty's folder on your desktop."

She swallowed the excitement threatening to bubble over. Would he agree to it? He frowned. He grimaced. He nodded.

"It's a go for today. It seems pretty straight forward what his next steps were. We'll see how you do. But you must do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. Understand?"

"Yes."

"There will be no improvising on your part. These people are skittish to begin with. One mistake and the mission is over. Now, we're not extracting anyone today. We're simply feeling this couple out, and if all goes well, setting up the purchase and transfer of two kids."

"Absolutely. I'll only do and say what you tell me. Scout's honor."

"Then I suggest you get out of those jeans and into something a bit more high-end. Intel so far shows this particular pair sells kids to people with lots of money and lots of fetishes."

"I don't own any kind of clothing that you're alluding to. I'm in jeans or a hippy skirt, a T-shirt, and flip flops when I'm not at work, and when I'm here, well, you see what I'm wearing. That's as fancy as I get."

"Then it looks like we're going shopping first."

****

He held an open account at Nordstrom, and those who needed to, knew him quite well. So when Gabriel arrived with Hannah at the women's department, he was warmly greeted by a sales person and catered to as if royalty.

"My assistant needs a flattering dress for daytime that exudes wealth. Something in red, I believe, with shoes, jewelry, and a purse to match."

"Yes, Mr. Seeker. We'll find the perfect ensemble for her. Won't we, Jane?" She turned to her colleague and smiled.

"Absolutely, Margie. Come with us Ms...?"

"Hannah. You can call me Hannah."

"All right, well, Mr. Seeker, why don't you have a seat right here, and we'll bring her out to you when she's done."

"Thank you."

The two women escorted his personal assistant and good friend through the myriad of clothing racks while he sat on a chair, fidgeting and sorting through emails on his phone. He already had misgivings about bringing her along. These stings were unpredictable, and given her own impulsive nature, he didn't see himself having the control he wanted for a successful buy-in. These times called for subtlety and elitism, both character traits diametrically opposed to her own free spirit. He sighed. What could he do? Nothing. He already agreed with her argument. He would just have to keep a close rein on her and make sure he did all the talking. She'd be eye candy, and that's it. Did she even know how to be the bombshell on the arm of a man?

"How's this?"

Gabriel looked up from his phone, and it slipped from his hands. She came walking toward him in red, patent leather stilettos, with metallic heels, and a red dress that hugged every curve, accentuated every womanly asset; ones he'd had no clue ever existed, and now, could never forget. A large sapphire teardrop pendant hung from a long, gold chain and dropped daringly close to the cleft between her breasts. Who was this woman before him? Hell if he knew!

"No good?" She frowned. "You look as if you've eaten a scorpion."

"No, no, no. I mean, yes!" He cleared his throat of the frog that had jumped inside it. "It'll do." What the hell was wrong with him? Stammering like an idiot!

He leaned over to pick up his phone, but she'd gotten to it first. The encounter left them face to face for a brief moment, just long enough and close enough for him to get a glancing whiff of her intoxicating perfume. He coughed, smiled, and retrieved his phone from her dainty hands. He adjusted the collar on his shirt, loosening the tie a bit.

"I think we have a winner, Margie," Jane preened. The pair giggled.

Gabriel stood and cleared his throat again. "Thank you very much ladies. You can add these to my tab."

"Shall I include Irresistible, the latest fruity fragrance from Chanel? It's very—"

"Oh, no. That's not necessary," Hannah interrupted. "I just needed the outfit." Gabriel watched a slow blush creep up her throat, and without so much as a sideways look away from her or hesitation, he responded.

"By all means, Jane, yes. Include it. And see to her make-up and hair. Make it all blend." He spared a peek at his watch. "We have ten minutes, no more. Get it done, and there's a bottle of that perfume in it for each of you."

"You can count on us!"

As Jane and Margie whisked their project away to Cosmetics, she glanced behind her and threw him a look that tangled confusion with excitement. He presented her an easy smile, and when she turned the corner with her hosts, he wiped the sweat from his brow.

What was he thinking?

He should have kept her locked away at his office and gone on his own. She'd grown into quite an astounding woman, right before his eyes, without him even knowing it. Today was one more in a string of surprises when it came to her.

His life was all about protecting others, making sure others' needs were met and lives were set on a good path. He'd met her when she was a mere child, needing the Brethren's protection, and watched in amazement as she changed into a fierce warrior child to fight alongside them against Satan. Before he knew it, time had blinked by, and Hannah had graduated college. She'd asked to be hired into his company, and being the kind of man he was, he couldn't say no.

Never, in the years since he'd manifested permanently, had he known a person who could manage him like she. He could've handled the morning without her. Who was he kidding? He operated so well because she managed him. If it weren't for her, his bustling office would be a shambles. He'd had no idea, at the time, how much of his life he'd let go for the sake of others. Her innate abilities to orchestrate the inner workings of Seeker Investigations freed up precious time, which in turn, allowed him to refocus his energies on bringing order back to his personal life. He'd be forever grateful.

Now, this invisible woman, so beautifully clothed and presented to him as if a special gift, had inadvertently shaken up his inner sense of order something fierce. With her looking so...different, so not little Hannah, it disconcerted him. Why would something as simple as a makeover trounce on his heart so? Get a grip, man! She hasn't been little Hannah for thirty years!

Despite Michael, Raphael, and Nathanael's relationships with their women, Brethren were not typically predisposed to the human emotions of love and lust. It compromised the human's safety being so intimately connected in that way. How he felt about her now had to be a manipulation of some kind from good ol' E.L., his boss. He had no time for this nonsense! He needed to focus on what needed to be done.

"Okay, this is as good as it's gonna get, Gabriel. Sorry."

He'd been leaning against a sweater counter and swung around to find a vision before him. Damn, if she isn't the finest female specimen I've ever laid eyes upon. I think they might actually hurt.

He sucked in a breath, as he burned to memory her sumptuous chocolate curls, dangling from an upswept hairdo that lightly kissed her shoulders, and her candy apple, sweetheart lips that begged to be devoured. "I'm in deep trouble now," he muttered.

"I heard that!" She whacked him playfully on the arm and tsked. "You're hopeless. We can't all be Giselle Bundchen, you know." Grabbing his hand, she yanked him toward the exit door and lowered her voice so only he could hear. "Come on. We have people to be and kids to save."

She'd mistaken his coming undone over her transformation for criticism. That'll work.

"Yes, we best be going." He waved a hand in the air. "Jane, thank you very much."

"It was our pleasure, Mr. Seeker. Come back soon."

As they walked out the west exit, he handed his valet ticket to an attendant.

"So, can I make up our names and our backgrounds?" she whispered. "I've been thinking about it the whole time those girls were fixing me up."

"We'll talk in the car."

He inspected his Aston Martin as it came to park in front of him. No dings, no scratches. As the attendant got out of the driver's side and opened the passenger door, Gabriel flashed a twenty dollar bill and handed it to him. "Thank you."

"Thank you, sir. Have a good day." The attendant grinned and ran off to retrieve another car.

Gabriel helped her into her seat, closed the door, and maneuvered around to his side. When he sat down and closed the door, he turned to look at her sternly.

"I have our names and story all figured out. I'll do all the talking when we get there. You are simply eye candy on my arm. Okay?"

Her excitement melted down her face. "But...fine. You've just put me in the perfect mood to be silent." She turned to face front and brooded.

Good. He didn't want to talk to her right now anyway. He wanted to forget the beauty sitting beside him was Hannah, and he needed to get his head on straight for the meeting. The silence was deafening, so he turned on his pre-set playlist and lost himself in the music. Classical for now so he could concentrate on the people he was about to draw into his trap—Tony and Margot Richter.

The two were suspected of selling kids, ranging in age from thirteen to nineteen, to wealthy couples with peculiar sexual persuasions. They used their high-end, exclusive interior design business as a front. They vetted their clients through face-to-face meetings. They would be posing as one such couple with desire and money burning their pockets. Today would be their meeting, and hopefully, a sale. They'd speak in terms of furniture for purchase. "Peculiar needs" was the secret phrase that would separate them from other, legitimate clientele.

As they pulled into the parking lot of T&M Interiors, adrenaline coursed through Gabriel's body, preparing him for nothing less than a successful mission. "We're here. Are you ready?"

"I guess so. Since I'm not supposed to speak, there's not much to prepare."

He stopped the car, unlocked the doors, and walked around to open hers. He ignored the complaint, but extended a hand to help her out. Appearances were everything. As they walked into the unassuming storefront, he smelled money. Everywhere he glanced, there were object d'art mixed in with crystal and marble statues, gold chandeliers, and seating with luxurious fabric coverings. It wasn't really a store to purchase goods, but a place to sit, talk, and acquire the owners' services.

An older gentleman, Gabriel estimated to be around fifty years old, walked out from behind an ornate wooden desk and approached them. The sheen from his dark blue silk suit went perfectly with his silver and gray hair, and spoke volumes to the Brethren Protector. This man had money. And he made it from selling kids. "Good morning. How can I help you?"

"Good morning." Gabriel extended a hand to shake, and it was warmly received by a Rolex laden one. Amend. Lots of money. As he gripped the man's rather dainty hand, he took a few moments to verify the villainy of his mark. Sure enough, evil coated every inch of him, and depraved sexual thoughts about Hannah hammered his ears. Had Gabriel not needed to bide his time for the success of the mission, he'd have struck the asshole down where he stood. He widened his smile instead, to offset his roiling anger and disgust, and released his hand. "Gabriel Claiborne. My wife, Celeste, and I just moved to the area and are shopping for a very special room in our home. I guess you could say, it's our little secret hideaway inside our love nest." He winked at her and grabbed her around her waist. "We have all the basic furnishings except for a few crucial items. I heard from a close friend of ours that you stock items perfect for our...peculiar needs."

The man raised a brow and smirked. "Well, I'm always glad to get a referral, and always available to help furnish rooms to perfection. My name is Tony Richter. Why don't you both join me in my office and we can talk more privately about your design needs?"

"Thank you. Celeste?"

He nudged her to walk ahead, giving him a chance to peer around the place. So far, he sensed nothing unusual. Nothing to set off any alarms. No hidden children. But there was still plenty of time. He joined the other two, not at the desk up front, but at a sofa and love seat set up way in the back, in a more private and secluded area of the store.

"Please, have a seat while I get you some wine? Champagne?"

"Water will do just fine. We make a rule never to drink before noon." Gabriel flashed a salacious grin. "But when that clock strikes twelve, all bets are off. Right, Celeste?"

She offered him a demure smile and nodded, but said nothing.

"Well then, water it is. Do think about the type of...furnishing...you prefer to have in your secret space while I go get you our finest bottled spring water."

Gabriel watched as he walked into another room, and then turned to Hannah. "You're doing great. Keep it up."

"Did you sense anything?"

"Yes, unfortunately, but nothing concrete about the kids. When he comes back, we'll know for sure."

Tony returned quickly with two bottles and a woman. "Look who I found on my way back to you? My wife! I'm the T and she's the M in T&M Interiors. This is Margot. She helps with the special orders."

Margot stood a good six inches taller than Tony, and wore a royal blue pant suit that made her jet black hair pop. She offered a tentative smile that settled into pursed lips. "Hello, Tony tells me you're in the market for some furnishings for your special hideaway. First, let me say how pleased it makes me to help people who make sex a priority in their lives. Tony and I have been together for twenty-five years, and if we didn't make our sex life a priority, we'd be divorced by now."

Tony laughed. She didn't. He stopped. So she rules the roost. Interesting.

"Yes, we make it our number one priority, which is why we love our new home. It came with the perfect setup for our...lifestyle choice. Now all we need are the right accoutrements, so to speak."

"Margot and I have a policy never to ask who referred you to us, but I am glad we can be of service. I asked you a question earlier. Have you considered?"

"Yes, we have."

"Wonderful! Give us specifics on what you desire."

"We'd like...chairs. We enjoy a fresh look, nothing vintage. Light, virgin wood, if possible. Minimal fabric."

"Chairs made of virgin wood are rare and near impossible to come by these days. But, I can get my hands on chairs made of birch. It's a light wood. Virgin, no, but still a younger wood. Fabric only on the seat."

"Margot's a magician with matching and acquiring a piece with its owner."

"How many chairs are you looking for?" Margot pressed on, altogether ignoring Tony's compliment.

"I think two. Yes? Celeste, it's two we need, right?"

Hannah nodded, but said nothing. It only took a fraction of second, but Gabriel saw the corner of Margot's lip twitch. "How soon do you need these chairs?"

"As soon as possible. We're eager to inaugurate the room."

"Let me make a few calls. Tony, get me my phone." He jumped up and scurried out of sight, returning a moment later with phone in hand. "I might be able to have them delivered by tomorrow. Is that amenable to you?"

"That is extraordinary and very much amenable. Now about price...."

"Do you plan to rent or purchase? We have both financial options available."

"We'd like to rent to own. If these chairs are a perfect fit, we'll pay the purchase price."

"Tony, get me a notepad and p—"

"Right here," he gushed. "I figured you'd need these."

"Good husband." She cracked a smile and patted his thigh when he sat down beside her.

She wrote on the notepad, ripped the paper out, and folded it. "Here. The price is per chair, per week and not negotiable. Cash on delivery. If they suit you at the end of the week, it will be an additional payment of the rental price per chair."

Gabriel opened the note and looked. He didn't flinch at the $35,000 price tag, and slid the paper into the breast pocket of his jacket. "Acceptable."

"Good." Tony clapped his hands. "We have a contract to be signed by you, given the nature of the purchase, to protect both parties involved. You'll give Margot your address and cell phone number. She'll call you when the chairs are available and ready for delivery. That time is not negotiable either, so make sure you make arrangements. Any questions?"

"None. You both are very thorough and professional. Celeste, wait for me out in the car, please. Turn it on so it cools down."

Hannah stood, took his keys, and straightened her dress. Tony stood as well. "Celeste, it was a pleasure to meet you. Let me walk you out."

As Gabriel filled out the contract he paid little attention to it. Instead, with his angelic supernatural hearing, he listened to Tony making lewd advances on Hannah. He counted to three and smirked when he heard him yelp and groan. That's my girl. Ten bucks says she kneed him right in the groin. It took a few minutes to complete the asinine form, and he handed it back to Margot.

"I don't know where Tony's gotten to, but I'll see you to the door. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Claiborne. I'll be in touch."

She extended her right hand for him to take. He did and kissed the back of it, as repulsed as he was with the whole situation. To do anything different would have raised alarms. A quick sensory sweep and he knew she was the one in charge of the entire operation. An image of a building flashed in his mind, but he didn't recognize it. He'd research it back at the office. As he entered his car, she waved to him. He waved back and tore out of the parking lot with abandon.

"Can't get out of there quick enough, eh?"

"You got that right. Nice job on Tony's balls. That is why I never saw him again, correct? You got him good with a knee kick?"

"Sure as the sun shines bright orange, his balls will be black and blue." She winked at him and he gave her a high five. "So did I do well in there?"

"Yes. You impressed me. Good job."

"Thank you. I can't wait to bring those assholes down. And now I can take these blasted pins out of my hair! I swear those women poked them straight through to my brain!"

One by one, as she pulled them out, her long curls tumbled down over her shoulders. She gave her head a good shake, and Gabriel couldn't help but steal more glimpses. He thanked his lucky stars she couldn't see his own hidden under the steering wheel. He knew they were probably as blue as Tony's. Why the hell am I behaving like a sex-starved schoolboy? It's not a flattering look for an angel who's been alive for...ever. Get a grip on yourself, literally, because to consider her for the position is completely out of the question.

MORE PARANORMAL ROMANCE

FROM DEENA REMIEL...

Ghost of a Chance (A 1-Night Stand Short Story)

the BOOK WAITRESS series...

The Book Waitress

Devil Du Jour

Demon A La Mode

A-Hunting We Will Go

Rock-a-Bye Demon

Sticks and Stones

GET THE FIRST THREE NOVELLAS IN

THE BOOK WAITRESS SERIES VOLUME ONE

LOVE AMONG THE RUINS SERIES...

Immortal Dance

Burning Sage

~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

It was the mystique of Arizona's history and landscape that called to Deena and catapulted her career as an author. When she's not waging battles between good and evil while writing novels in the wee, small hours of the morning or in the deep, dark of night, Deena teaches language arts to middle school students. She currently lives in Gilbert with her husband and two children, but New Jersey will always tug at her heartstrings.

Ever Shade

A Dark Faerie Tale #1

By

Alexia Purdy

Ever Shade

A Dark Faerie Tale #1

www.AlexiaPurdyBooks.com

Copyright © October 2012, April 2013 Alexia Purdy

All rights reserved

Published by

Lyrical Lit. Publishing

Edited by Michael K. Rose and Jasmine Petricola

Cover Design by Alexia Purdy

Photography used with permission and licenses

© Kristinashu & © Fredvl - Dreamstime.com

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank, first and foremost, my husband Joshua Purdy, whom without your love and strength; this could not have come to be. To my family, who are always by my side through all things. Thank you to all my co-workers who read my stories and believed in me no matter what. I want to thank Scott Prussing for all your help. My writing family Linna Drehmel, Jenna Kay, Kyani Swanigan and Madison Daniel - you guys are amazing and some of the most talented people I have ever met. You keep me in awe. With all of you, I've been able to make the dream a reality.

This book is dedicated to my grandmother Edisa Salas. I love and miss you every day. ~Alexia

Prologue

ONE LONG PAUSE and the man pondered the choice he'd just made. The faery exile, Verenis, watched the woman and her new husband as they laughed and chatted away inside their house. Her long, honey-brown hair shone in shimmering waves down her back and swung around as her husband twirled her about the kitchen, dancing to the music from the radio, which sat on the windowsill. Verenis didn't acknowledge the pangs of jealously that swirled in his stomach; he'd made his decision, and now had to let it play out. She'd be safer this way.

The child would grow without knowing him, without knowing her powerful potential. He would not be there to teach her the ways of their magic and life. It had to be this way. He could not change it, no matter how much he longed to. For the safety of the child and the love of his life, he'd erased the woman's memory of him forever. He watched them as the happiness spread across their faces. He handpicked the man for her, made sure he would be a great father, love the child as his own, and love the woman more than life itself.

The faery closed his eyes, feeling the breezes of the cool winds graze his face. He'd never wished to leave her like this, but longed to hold her and be the one to swing her around in a flowing dance. The tragedy of it all caused a fierce ache in his heart and arrested his breath in his throat. Glancing back to her one more time, he turned away and ran with the wind toward the embrace of the forest.

Chapter One

"YOU DIDN'T REALLY mean that, did you?" Shade said as she observed her friend Brisa, whose face reddened with frustration.

"Rachel had it coming. She's the one who started it!"

Shade looked at her friend's ruined shirt, streaked with the remains of a red strawberry smoothie. The substance was sticking to her, and it felt cold. Her top was no longer the vibrant yellow it'd once been.

"She's a dumb idiot anyway," Brisa muttered. "She shouldn't be calling you those names. I only stated that she was a 'dumb as a wall, self-deluded bitch' in self-defense. I said it for you. Besides, it's only the truth."

Brisa frowned and gave up rubbing at the stain with a washcloth and soap. She pulled the shirt over her head and let it slip to the ground. Glaring at her locker, she realized her only other shirt was her gym T-shirt. _It figures there's nothing else to wear._ She sighed. "She shouldn't have thrown her smoothie at me. The next time I see her, she's going to pay," Brisa hissed and looked at Shade. "You're not a freak. Don't ever believe anything she says. She's wrong!"

Shade peered at her friend. Brisa rarely got along with anyone. Not a day went by that she wasn't in the principal's office, cleaning chalkboards, wiping down desks, or doing some other tedious job. Many times, she'd received these punishments for whatever trouble she'd gotten into, instead of hanging out with Shade.

Still, Shade had known Brisa since they were toddlers and would stand by her through anything. She was the only one who knew about Shade's strange abilities−hearing voices in her head. Brisa was the only one Shade trusted.

"It's all right, Brisa. I guess I would think I was a freak, too," Shade gave her friend a shrug. "Besides, it's my fault for blurting out what they told me about Rachel. Who would have known she was cheating on the final if I hadn't said anything? She needs to wise up. Well, at least you didn't smash her nose in. You only need one more fight to get that suspension they've threatened you with already. Your mom would hang you!"

Brisa grinned with a slight shudder at the thought of her mother. Brisa's face was smooth and olive-toned with bright blue eyes. Her dark brown hair flowed lazily in waves to her mid back. She wasn't gorgeous, but she wasn't bad looking either. She rarely had makeup on and preferred to wear her hair in a low ponytail instead of letting it flow freely around her shoulders. She was as much of a tomboy as a girl could be−completely opposite of her friend's more girly disposition. Shade's dark, brown hair was similar but longer than her friend's, and her complexion was creamier. Otherwise, they looked a lot like sisters.

"Like I need help in that department," Brisa groaned as she pulled her hair out from the collar of her gym shirt and smoothed the wrinkles down. Brisa and her mother rarely got along. She tended to spend more time at Shade's house than at her own.

Shade pulled out her cell phone to peek at the time. It was getting late, and their afternoon class was starting in two minutes. Dropping the phone back into her bag, she scooped it up before shoving away her own long, brown locks. She tapped her friend's shoulder, urging her to hurry. "Gotta go. Do you want to be late? Ms. Temor is going to lock us out! Chop, chop!" Shade turned and sprinted toward the entrance to the locker room and shoved the heavy metal doors out of her way.

"Wait up!" Brisa called as she stuffed her ruined shirt into her backpack. She stumbled behind Shade and cleared the doors just before they slammed shut.

****

SHADE SIGHED. SHE swung her legs down from the stone ledge she'd propped herself on by the main entrance of the school. _Might as well start walking,_ she thought. Her mom had forgotten to pick her up _again_ , and it was a long walk home. Her backpack was heavy but not as much as some days when her homework was piled high. Luckily, today was a light homework day.

The warm air rippled along Shade's face. The final bell had rung ages ago, yet here she was, still waiting, _again_. This had been happening too often lately. Brisa rode the Portland, Oregon city bus home and was long gone. Shade wished she'd hopped onto that bus with her friend. _Mom has too much on her plate_ , Shade thought. Her full time job, two sons, and Shade's younger sister kept her busy. Shade, being the oldest, was on her own.

The streets were quiet as she walked home. A slight breeze swept up some litter and floated it past her. She was feeling good, especially compared to how she'd felt a couple of weeks ago, when she caught pneumonia. The illness caused Shade to miss a lot of school, and her grades had taken a beating. She'd been feeling pretty out of it for the past month. Now, she wasn't so sure she'd be able to get caught up enough to raise some of her D's to B's, much less A's again. One class was still an F.

Squeezing her eyes together, she gritted her teeth and tried to not imagine having to endure getting an F for the first time in her life. She'd graduate either way, but the drop in GPA was not going to go over well with her. Shade sighed and looked ahead, hoping her luck would get better soon.

The bright sun was glaring down, and it reflected off the white concrete sidewalk like a floodlight, blinding her. Shade's little brother, James, had smashed her last pair of sunglasses just two days before while playing one of his infinitely, highly imaginative games. She wished she'd replaced them already.

Shade passed the main streets of the city and continued walking down the sidewalk, skipping over cracks on the aged concrete. The roads turned into longer stretches of periodic houses and empty lots as the worn brick buildings of the city's center faded behind her.

"Only a whole mile or so to go," Shade mumbled to herself. Both her feet ached a little. She was thankful she'd worn tennis shoes today instead of her usual thin flats. Still, she wasn't used to walking so much since it was only her third day back to school. Feeling one of her shoelaces loosen as it began to whip her calf and flop around, she stopped walking and bent down to retie it firmly.

Hesitating, she glanced up and scanned the street and the warehouses surrounding her. The cool autumn breeze whirled around her, causing the fallen leaves to float in the wind and slung dust into the air. She squeezed her eyes shut and let the dust and debris blow past her before getting back up.

Holding her breath, she could've sworn she'd heard something. _Is it footsteps?_ It sounded like someone scurrying about, or running, but also trying to be quiet about it. Shade peered around her, surveying the area. Whatever it was, it seemed to have come from an abandoned warehouse to her right. She studied the dilapidated brick structure, the only tall building for miles, and it gave her the creeps. She listened hard for anything to betray itself but heard nothing. The windows were mostly boarded-up, and weeds littered the ground all around it.

Go inside, now.

Shade paled. She hadn't heard the voices sound so desperate in quite a while, and this wasn't good. It wasn't her inner voice or her conscience. It was very different, like someone else whispering into her ears, but she was the only one who had ever heard them. Shade never could explain it to anyone, mostly because it would've just sounded so crazy.

They were an entity who spoke inside her head and asked her to do their bidding. Shade never understood the reasons why. The voices would become clearer and stronger when they wanted her to do something specific. It wasn't ever anything absolutely insane, like killing someone. That comforted her, but nevertheless, she cringed at the sound of their voices tingling in her ears. No one knew of this ailment except Brisa.

Shade shuddered as she thought about telling someone else about them _._ No one would understand or even look at her like a normal person again if she told anyone. She'd become another institutionalized, psychotic, hormonal teenager.

_They'd think I was another paranoid schizophrenic teenager if I told anyone,_ she thought. _Can't go to a loony house where they'd pump me up with drugs until I'm comatose. I can't._

_Hurry,_ said the voices _._

_Hurry to what?_ Shade inquired silently. _There's nothing here!_

_Quick,_ they told her with urgency.

Shade pressed her lips together. She _had_ to obey. The voices wouldn't leave her alone if she defied them, and she couldn't handle that. She'd tried to ignore what they'd wanted her to do once before, and there'd been dire consequences. Three nights of relentless chatter inside her head was enough to drive anyone to a nuthouse. She couldn't go through that again.

Okay, already!

She bent over and slipped through a hole in the fence that was nearest to her. The building looked even scarier up close. The wind howled around her, whipping her long, brown hair up and caused it to smack her face. It was as if it was taunting her decision to inspect the building. The front door was boarded-up with thick bolts and two by fours. Apparently, no one was meant to enter this place.

There's no way in. Where do I get in?

_The basement,_ the voices said together.

Shade gulped. It would be dark in the basement, and whatever was in there would not be welcoming her. She didn't even have a flashlight. Nothing good would come of this at all. Even so, she walked around the building toward the rear, searching for any openings.

There it was; a small, dusty and rusted window near the ground. As she knelt down, the rocks crunched under her feet and dug into her knees. She lowered herself so that she was level with the window and frowned. The dust and moist earth stuck to her jeans and fingers.

_E_ _www, I hate getting filthy!_

The window was tiny and probably just big enough for a small person to fit through. Shade groaned. _Just like me_. She cringed at the thought of crawling through it. It would be a tight fit, but she thought she could probably make it. She pushed on the windowpane, but nothing happened. It'd been years since anyone has moved this frame, and now it was stuck.

Maybe I should give a good hard push....

Shade scooted onto her bottom and got closer to the window, pressing her feet against it. She gave it a good shove and heard a loud screech as the metal frame screamed in protest, opening to the world. The dust billowed around her in a swirling cloud, causing her to go into a coughing fit.

She dusted her clothes off as she muttered to herself. There was no doubt that she'd need another shower tonight. She peeked inside, but it was a deep void of darkness. _Oh boy, this is gonna suck_ , she thought. Shimmying through the frame, she heaved herself into the darkness below.

Shade crashed onto the floor, tumbling to a stop. _Ouch! That's definitely going to leave a bruis_ _e,_ she thought _._ Shade rubbed the sore spots and scanned the room for signs of movement. There was nothing but dust and darkness to greet her. Standing, she dusted her jeans off again.

There was a dim light coming from the now-busted window, but her eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness of the room. The small room was empty, except for a worktable at one end of the basement and the parts to an old bicycle at the other end. There were also a few pieces of junk strewn across the floor. Even in poor light, she could see there was a staircase in the middle of the room. She walked to it and grabbed the thin metal banister. She started up slowly but froze, hearing a sound that made her stomach tighten.

Footsteps were fluttering above her, but they quickly faded. It seemed like they'd stopped to listen for something or someone. Maybe they heard her. She didn't move for what felt like a millennium, her heart pumping quickly and loudly in her ears. She stood still, holding her breath and fearing discovery.

The time ticked on, but Shade didn't hear any more noises and decided to ascend the stairs slowly to the door at the top. Her hand gripped the old brass knob, and she paused. As she gulped back her fear, she listened for anything that might be waiting for her beyond the door. _Pray, just pray that no one is waiting on the other side_.

Shade turned the knob as quietly as she could, but the slow creaking moan of the door echoed in the silence. The wind was still howling outside the basement window, shaking it in its frame until the vibration loosened it, and it slammed closed. Her stomach tightened at the sudden noise. _Claustrophobia must feel like this_ , she thought.

Shade opened the door and looked around the gloomy building. Light streamed in through the boarded-up windows as she peered into the long hallway that was just beyond the door. The place was vibrating from the forces outside. Everything creaked and sighed, like a ship tossed about in an angry sea. Shade wished more than anything to be home, snuggled in her room, safe. She stepped out into the hall and closed the basement door behind her as quietly as she could.

_Now what? Which way do I go?_ She hated having to listen to the voices for an answer. At least she knew if she had to ask them anything, they'd answer her without fail. She just hoped it wasn't the answer she didn't want to hear.

_Upstairs, follow the stairs to your right. Take them now_ , the voices commanded in unison _._

Shade turned toward her right, seeing that the hallway ended by a small banister near the wall. She could see another window frame at the end of it, and light spilled through the streaked glass, illuminating the bottom of the staircase. Dust particles swam and danced all around in the rays.

_Here we go,_ thought Shade. _Please don't let there be a crazy person up there!_ She swiftly walked to the stairs and looked up, hearing nothing but the wind making the walls moan. Moving slowly over the loose floorboards, whose creaking was driving her mad with fear, she reached the landing just as she heard a crash. Her eyes widened, and she fought the urge to fly right back down the stairs.

_Something big is up there! It's moving, too! I don't want to meet that!_ She couldn't move from her spot, so she listened again, but nothing else banged around upstairs. Shade craned her neck so she could hear better _. It must have stopped_. After taking a breath, she continued up the stairs.

"Don't ever ask me to do this again," she muttered under her breath as she reached the landing and peered down to her left. There was another hall, and it opened into a big room, which must have been the warehouse's office area. There were cubicles and papers strewn about on the desks, and old chairs laid turned over, as if someone had thrown them across the room. _Um, not pretty._ She looked around. Whatever had been up here might still be lurking and hiding from her. It wouldn't be too hard with all the furniture upturned and scattered throughout the room.

Shade didn't have to wait too long before she was diving for cover. A bolt of lightning shot across the room and smashed into one of the bookshelves lining the walls. She ducked under a desk, which was still standing upright, and tried to take cover from the flying debris.

_What was that?_ She tried to pace her rapid breathing, for she felt like she was having a heart attack. What if she died and no one could ever find her? Her remains would be here in this desolate place for years _if_ ever discovered.

_Shut up,_ she told herself, shooing the morbid thoughts away. _Now, voices, come on. Why am I here, to get killed? You better tell me soon, 'cause I'm about to hightail it out of here!_

Shade peeked above the desk to look around the room. A sonic boom knocked her onto her back, causing more debris to fly past her. The sound had come from a different direction than the lightning. _Is there more than one person here?_ _What the hell?_ She stayed down and prayed they wouldn't notice her in the mess.

"You can't hurt me, Jack. I know all your tricks, and they're pointless against my magic. You can't best me with your powers. Mine will always endure against you," a woman cackled with a spine-tingling voice. She sounded like the Wicked Witch of the West.

"Give it up, Evie. You don't have it in you. We're banging our heads against the walls. I can have reinforcements arrive in a heartbeat. Give it up before I'm forced to make you." It was a man's voice, and it echoed with strength in the large room.

_Ok, this is getting complicated_ , thought Shade. _I hope they don't know I'm here._

"Not so fast, _Jack_. And the name is Vange now." She spoke his name as though she was speaking of poison. "You've trespassed on my domain. I didn't know you liked hanging out with ordinary folk now. You might frighten one of them as you speak. You should return to the forest and mountains you claim as your great domain. The cities are mine." Another boom and crash shook the room.

Shade held her breath. _Well, now I know she knows I'm here. Now he does, too! Great!_

"The mortal is of no concern to me. You should stop right now before I hurt you. The Queen wants you alive, but I'm sure if you're wounded, she'll understand it's a matter of life and death. Or, you could just give me the talisman back, and we'll call it even." Jack sent another lightning rod, or what looked like a lightning rod, toward the left corner of the room and jumped from his spot. Shade peered over at him as he ran forward and ducked behind a large wooden beam. He glanced at her for a moment, narrowing his gaze as he watched her. Now he knew just where she was.

_What now?_ Shade turned and looked down the hall to the flight of stairs. _If only I can get to the stairs and get the hell out of Dodge._ She glanced back at the scene before her. Jack hunched down behind the desks and stealthily crept toward the woman. He paused periodically to listen and search for her. The woman was hiding quite well behind an office divider if she was still there.

_Don't run,_ the voices said.

_What am I supposed to do, die?_ Shade's heart raced, and sweat beaded on her forehead and neck. She gulped and felt lightheaded as her chest burned from hyperventilation. What could she do? They would see her if she bolted. She hung her head down, wishing to be small and invisible. She heard Jack curse as another crash shattered a window on the north end of the building. Shade jerked her head up in time to see Vange flash a smile at Jack.

"I'm truly sorry, Jack, but this isn't your day. _My_ Queen will love this little artifact. Its powers will truly add to our array of weapons against your precious Queen." The woman then sprinted toward the shattered remains of the windowpane and jumped, no, _flew_ out the window and disappeared.

"We will finish this some other time, Vange." Jack stood at the windowsill and stared into the light of the day. The cool autumn breeze wafted in and stirred up the stale air inside. He shook his head while he groaned and cursed under his breath.

Shade stood and peered at Jack; he had yet to turn toward her. She decided to sneak away discretely when he suddenly caught her by the shoulder. She screamed and quickly spun around, forced to face him. His eyes pierced hers as his hands gripped her upper arms. "Let me go!" she yelled as she wriggled around in his grip.

"Oh, quit it. Who are you? Why are you here?" Jack questioned as he stared at her with searing eyes. He squeezed on her arms just enough to make her cry out.

"I don't know! I don't know! Let me go!"

He sighed and released her as she pulled away, sending her crashing to the floor.

"Ow!" Shade grabbed her elbow, now streaked with blood.

"You said 'let me go.'" Jack turned and picked up some of his weapons from the floor. He took hold of the sheath hanging on his belt, putting his knife away, before he began dusting off his clothes. He wore a tight black shirt with a leather belt tightened around his waist with multiple items strung onto it, including a sword.

His face was strong and well defined, portraying a radiance of youth. He appeared to be about twenty-five, but didn't have a hint of stubble, making him not quite look like a teenager. Jack's dark, black, wavy hair was long, grazing his neck, and his bangs covered some of his tanned face. His eyes had an ancient wisdom about them, making it obvious that he had seen too much for one lifetime.

_He's not bad looking though._ Shade stood up and brushed off her clothes as well. She peered up at him, wondering if she should try to run.

"Who are you? Who was... _what_ was...that woman?" Shade's voice shook as she spoke. "And how do you throw lightning like that? How can she fly?" Shade couldn't hold back the torrent of questions.

He stared at her quietly. It seemed as if he were trying to decide whether or not to answer. His piercing grey eyes examined her, making Shade flush as she stuttered. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're thinking." If he'd been a teenager, he would've rolled his eyes, Shade thought. "I'm Jack, by the way. I have the power to throw lightning, because it's part of what I am." He grinned, watching her face drop in disbelief. "She can't really fly. It's more like, floating gracefully."

What the...?

"Okay then..." she chuckled nervously, more scared than ever. "How'd she make the room explode in a sonic boom? What do you mean, you're made of lightning? That's insane." Shade shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed before blinking nervously. This strange, young man just stared at her, a wry smile upturning the corners of his mouth. He seemed amused by her rant.

"That was Evangeline. Vange is what everyone calls her now, though I used to call her Evie." He paused, looking lost in thought. "But, that was a long time ago. She's an elemental fire witch, but not just any old witch. She's a hybrid offspring of a witch and a faery. She's a skilled fighter, and she has taken something from my Queen. I was sent to get it back." Jack started to walk toward the staircase, leaving Shade stunned with her mouth hanging open in silence.

_Okay, that was unexpected_. She watched him begin down the stairs. _Now what?_ What was the purpose of her being here? Why did she have to witness all that? _H_ _ello, voices?_

_Why, oh why, do I listen to the stupid voices_ _?_ _Why can't they_ _leave me alone? All they have ever done for me is get me into a lot of trouble._

"Wait! Why was I brought here? Stop! Don't walk away from me...I need answers here!" Shade scrambled after the strange man, nearly tripping down the stairs. "The voices told me to come here, and I want to know why. What am I supposed to see or do here? Stop already!" she cried out again.

Jack was already at the front door. He studied the nailed-in boards and began tearing them down. _How did he get in?_ His muscles rippled as he held one plank and pulled. It crashed to the floor as he went for another one. She grabbed his arm to get his attention, but he spun around, grabbed her wrist instead, and squeezed it tight. Shade whimpered, surprised by the pain.

"Don't touch me, I might inadvertently electrocute you."

Her eyes widened as she stared at his hand, which was tightening on her wrist. He let her go and sighed, his lips tightened with discontent.

"I don't know why you're here. You say you hear voices? Only oracles can hear voices. Strange," he said, more to himself than to her. "Anyway, I'm made of lightning and blue fire. I guess I have to show you, because if you happen to touch me when I am not properly shielded with this glamour, I can hurt you, and it could be fatal." Jack stared at her with some concern in his eyes. He stepped back from her and seemed to shake a bit, as though dusting himself off. The air around him liquefied as his glamour melted away, and the brightness of his skin illuminated the dark hallway.

Shade gasped. He still looked like Jack, but his skin glowed with a blue aura. Blue fire flickered all over him. Electricity crackled along his entire body, yet he didn't burn _._ His eyes blinked at her, smiling at the awe pasted on her face.

No way!

"You see, I'm made of electricity, like lightning, and white-hot blue fire. One touch and I can zap you to heaven." He closed his eyes as the air, like liquid, poured over him. His glamour reappeared on him, like a drizzle of honey. Jack opened his eyes and studied the shocked expression on her face.

Shade could hardly stand. She was confused, stunned, and in sheer disbelief. "How do you do that? What the... no... can't...how?" She leaned on the wall, her legs feeling dangerously limp.

Jack straightened up and narrowed his eyes at her. The air was still shimmering around him. He seemed to pull it in tighter around him, solidifying whatever it was that formed his glamour. The glow was all but gone. His skin lay smooth, tanned and flawless.

Turning, he pulled the rest of the boards off the door and swung it open. It screeched on its hinges, letting the fading light illuminate the doorway. He stepped out onto the steps and turned to look at Shade. "I suggest that you come with me. I don't know why your voices led you here, but the oracle where I live might be able to help you. You would have to follow me right now though. What do you say? Maybe she has the answers you seek." He watched her slowly step outside.

Shade breathed in the cool autumn air and felt more grounded. Gazing up at him, she nodded. It seemed like the only solution to her predicament. _Might as well._

Jack began walking and stopped before he reached the sidewalk. He waited for Shade with a look of concern. "You can't tell anyone what you see or where we go. No one. Understand?"

She took in the seriousness of his face. "Of course," she answered hesitantly.

He nodded, made his way onto the sidewalk, and then headed off toward the forest.

Chapter Two

THEY WALKED FOR so long, it seemed like an eternity before they reached the edge of the woods at the city's end. Entering the quiet forest made Shade more aware of how alone she suddenly felt. Should she trust this stranger? Where were they going? She peeked over her shoulder as the city faded behind them, engulfed by the shrubs and trees as they progressed deeper into the woods.

She shivered as the breeze caressed her skin. The forest came alive with animal calls. Leaves rustled and branches swayed violently above them. The day was vanishing, the sunset swirling in colors of tangerine orange, pink, and a smear of blue.

Shade suddenly felt panicked, realizing she didn't have a flashlight and that night was quickly approaching. "Um, Jack?" Her voice seemed loud in the open air, but he kept going.

"Yes, what's up?" Jack pushed branches aside and avoided tripping on the thick, gnarled roots crawling across the forest floor.

"It'll be dark soon. Are we close yet? I don't have a flashlight. Do you? Maybe I should come back during the day tomorrow?" She ducked under a low branch as the forest around them thickened, swallowing them in its embrace.

"We're quite near. Don't worry. The dusk is nothing to fear. Just don't go near any little faeries you might see. They like to enthrall you, suck you into their charms, and they won't release you. They enjoy torturing mortals."

Her eyes widened as she dug her heels into the dirt. "What? Did you say 'faeries'? Are you kidding me? You don't really believe in them, do you? They aren't really real...." Shade's voice trailed off as she examined her surroundings more closely.

What the heck is he talking about?

He chuckled. "I'm not joking. They really do exist. What do you think _I_ am? The fey—faeries—like me come in many sizes. We exist in this world, parallel to yours, hidden in plain sight. We're magical beings, but most are bound to stay within the boundaries of the land of Faerie," he offered, but found her face still full of confusion. "Don't worry. I won't trick you or charm you like the tiny demi-fey do. The farther you go into these woods, the more and more you'll see." Jack grunted as he pulled away some overgrown branches that stood in their way.

"It's a whole new world out here, with things you could never imagine. This is our territory, away from the iron cities." He continued to wrestle with an unrelenting vine, turning red and impatient with the vegetation. Was it fighting with him? Shade thought it odd that it appeared almost alive, trying to ensnare him. "Faeries can't stand iron, you know. It's our kryptonite." He pulled his sword by the hilt tied to his back and began hacking at the thick vegetation that surrounded them.

Shade crept forward, more wary and spooked than before. _Faeries aren't that bad. I guess things could be worse. Could be tigers and lions and bears, oh my!_ She hurried to keep up with Jack, pulling her sweater tighter around herself. The sun had gone down, and the heat receded with it. "Jack?"

"Yes?" A slight impatience now tainted his voice.

"It sounded like Vange knows you... intimately. Do you know her well?" Shade fumbled over a root sticking up from the dirt.

Jack pressed his lips together as his pace hesitated for a moment. He furrowed his brow as she waited.

"I did know her... intimately, I mean. That's all changed now. We _were_ , well, lovers. Engaged once." He swung his sword harder, making the branches fly easily out of their way. "I loved her very much. Then the Unseelie Court started raging war against the Seelie Courts of Faeries, especially the one I reside at. She changed then, switched sides, started using dark magic. I'm not sure what made her choose to change, but she up and left one day and never returned. She became one of the evil Queen Aveta's top lieutenants.

"She's been stealing magical artifacts from our clan. They're probably trying to beef up their armory of weapons and magic against us." Jack stopped, breathing in slowly as the memories washed over him, morphing his face into a still mask.

"So you were in love, and she just left? Just like that?"

"Yes. It was a long time ago, and I'd rather not talk about it anymore."

Shade frowned, scanning the darkening woods. Jack seemed nice enough, and she didn't want to get on his last nerve, especially not when the woods appeared to be dangerously alive.

Jack came to a sudden stop in front of an enormous oak tree. It looked ancient, like it had lived longer than anything else in the world. He kneeled down, put away his sword, and pulled out a flask, taking a swig.

While Shade looked around and up into the tree, something swatted her calf, making her jump. She scrambled around to get a better look at the forest floor. Fluttering near her was what appeared to be a small fly. Its wings batted like a hummingbird's, and a snarled smile emerged from its lips.

Lips? Flies don't have lips.

She narrowed her eyes at the creature. It had a soft golden glow to its skin and looked like a tiny elf with white cottony hair and long pointy fingers. It also had a malicious smile painted across its face. "Um, hi, how are you? I'm...." Shade didn't get a chance to finish her words before the wind flew out of her as her arm was jerked back.

"Stop!" Jack snapped, still holding onto her wrist. "Don't speak to them! The demi-fey aren't very merciful or nice. They like to play games and mind tricks, which can kill you. There's almost no way to snap out of their enchantments. They can make you dance until your feet are bloody stumps! Weren't you listening? And, never eat or take anything they give you! You understand? You will belong to them forever!" Jack let go of her arm and angrily turned back to the tree. Shade rubbed her arm, pushing her steamy anger away.

" _Endora, philis montie!"_ He touched one of the tree knots, causing the earth to quiver and move near the roots. They vibrated alive, snaked and moved as they parted, like tentacles. An opening with stone steps revealed itself at the base of the tree. Eventually, the rumbling ceased, and the ground remained open.

Shade had to close her mouth, which was hanging open like a flycatcher. She'd never seen anything like this in her life.

"Follow me and stay close. Humans are not usually welcomed here." Jack stepped down into the darkness, holding onto the small roots sticking out of the crumbly walls as parts of a banister. Shade followed reluctantly, but silently wished she'd never gotten out of bed that morning. As she descended deeper into the void, the grass and trees disappeared from sight.

When they had almost reached the bottom of the staircase, a loud rumble shook the ground, sending dirt trickling down. Her arms instinctively flew up over her head, waiting for a cave-in that never did come. She looked up when the noise died away. The hole in the forest floor had closed above them.

Shade now stood in what appeared to be a hallway made of dirt with smooth stones all around them. Roots dangled from above, and the only light came from lamps hanging on the walls. One by one, each magically flared up. The lamps gave off an eerie flickering glow of dim light.

Jack dusted his shoulders and shook off the dirt. He started walking down the hall. Shade had no choice but to follow while attempting to breathe in and out slowly and deeply, easing her anxiety. The floor was flagstone, nestled into the moist, soft dirt. It was cool in the dark tunnel, but it wasn't uncomfortable; there was no trace of wind to chill her.

There were many tunnels branching off from the main one. Shade stayed close to Jack, afraid to lose him in a dizzying maze. Dangling roots gripped her hair, like fingers catching her long strands and pulling hard as if they were alive. She used one hand to cover her head to keep it from catching the snarled roots. Her other hand was stretched out to help her balance against the cool, smooth dirt walls. She hoped they would soon get to wherever it was they were going.

There was a soft glowing light up ahead, growing brighter as they inched closer to it. She could hear voices echoing in waves down the hall. The hall abruptly ended and opened into a large, round room. Shade realized the voices were coming from the many bodies fluttering around in the room. Most looked human from what she saw, but others were unlike anything she'd ever seen. Their faces glared at her, an intruder from the world above. Somehow, she had a feeling that they didn't see too many strangers down there.

Shade felt naked under the scrutiny of the dozens of eyes which were scanning her as though she were a freak. She stumbled behind Jack, who seemed oblivious to the commotion around them. He finally stopped when a large troll stepped in front of them, blocking the path.

"Out of the way, Renny. I must see Ilarial immediately," Jack yelled up to the gruesome beast. "I have some strange news about Vange for her, and I brought someone who needs to see her." The troll narrowed his vision and casted his glowing, yellow eyes over Shade. She felt herself shrinking under his glare; he was monstrous, and one of the scariest things she'd ever seen.

"Can't do that, Jack. No strangers allowed without prior approval. You know that. We have to be sure she isn't a spy. The forest is crawling with them. They could only be so lucky to have you waltz one right into the center of our residence. I have to tie her up now." The troll pushed past Jack and reached for her. His large hands were hideous and reminded her of moldy green cheese. They looked burly, and if he got a hold of her, she didn't know how she would break free, even if she tried.

"Jack?" She stepped back as he came closer. "I'm not a spy! Don't touch me! _Jack?_ " She peered around for him as the troll's fingers grabbed her arm and squeezed, digging hard into her flesh. The next second, the troll was on the floor, staring at the ceiling and blinking in disbelief. Jack had his sword at the troll's throat and his foot pressed down onto his massive chest.

"I told you, Renny, we must see the oracle Ilarial. I vouch for this girl. She's no spy. Now stay out of my way, or the next time, this blade will slice your throat all the way through."

Jack pushed off and looked at Shade. She trembled as she let out the breath that caught in her chest. He motioned for her to follow him and sheathed his sword. She nodded and stepped past the troll, who glared at her with his burning yellow eyes. Turning away, she scurried behind Jack as he continued walking down another corridor off the main room. She didn't let her gaze deviate from the room until it was out of sight. Shivering, she hugged her arms around herself, even though the room wasn't cold. She was afraid, more than she was willing to admit.

"I apologize for the security around here. We've had a lot of break-ins, and Queen Zinara is not pleased. You must understand, if I suspected you were a spy, you wouldn't be standing here with me at all."

Shade nodded, feeling most unwelcomed.

"Ah, here we are!" Jack stopped at the end of the hall and tapped on a wooden door. It had deep woodland carvings that curved and twisted throughout the ancient wood, smoothed over by time and use.

"Come," a woman's voice commanded. Shade hoped she'd be friendlier than the bunch they'd already encountered.

Jack heaved the door open and let Shade go in first, closing it softly behind them. She studied the room as it glittered in the dim candlelight shining from the center of a round wooden table near the floor. There were also several large pillows tossed about the room for seating.

From behind the table, a platinum-haired woman stared at her. She smiled and lifted her arms, motioning for them to sit. Her gown flowed around her like liquid ice, white and sheer. Her hair glistened in the light, and her eyes were like grey shining pearls. The oracle's eyes brought out the smoothness of her face. Her dark pink lips smiled, and nothing about her seemed old. She looked like an angel without wings, ethereal. Shade tried not to stare, hoping she hadn't been rude. She settled onto a large blue pillow.

Shade let her eyes wander over the small space, noticing several objects on the table before them. There were stones of different colors and markings scattered on the wood. Placed among the stones were some small, bleached animal bones.

"Please, take my hand." Reaching out from her long, white robe, Ilarial brought her slender pale hand toward Shade. Shade took the hand, finding it soft and surprisingly warm.

"Um, hello, I'm Shade. Jack brought me here because I...."

"I know who you are and why you're here, Shade," Ilarial interrupted. "I've been waiting for you a long time. I was hoping that you might run into someone like Jack a little sooner, but this will do. I'm Ilarial, Lady Oracle of the faery tribe of Guildrin." Her smile made Shade feel warm and suddenly very calm. The woman was full of magic, and it radiated toward her like a warm fire on an icy night.

"I know you're confused, but I've known of your existence for some time. You say you can hear what you call 'voices' in your head from time to time?" the Oracle asked kindly.

Shade nodded. She was in awe of Ilarial but couldn't shake the strangeness of the room's atmosphere. Was she under a spell? Being in Ilarial's presence was like being drugged or sedated. It filled her with a sweet and fuzzy feeling.

Ilarial smiled deeply, and crow's feet appeared around her eyes, revealing wisdom and age. Even so, Shade found it impossible to tell just how old she was. Her long hair draped around her shoulders and down her back like a thick, rippled curtain, shining in the dim candlelight.

"The voices in your head are spirit guides. They're your ancestors trying to help you on your way. It's difficult to tune into them because you're not trained, but they mean only to help you. You must not fear them, but let them fill you with their power and knowledge. After all, they've led you to find us. You must know now that you're not all human. You're one of us, part faery and part human. This is why you can sense magic around you, and it has called you here."

Shade concentrated on Ilarial's words, unconvinced. _What the heck? Impossible._ Shade shook her head. "No. My parents aren't faeries. My mother is not magical. She's a modern soccer mom with four kids to feed, and a single mom at that! My father's dead. He died two years ago, and there's no way he was a faery!"

Shade was growing agitated. Her father a faery? No, it couldn't be. He'd been so normal. She could still remember his calm voice reading to her at night before bed and the wrinkles that hugged his eyes when he smiled. Faeries aren't parents. They don't die in car accidents like her father had. None of this made any sense.

"I know this may sound impossible," Ilarial offered softly. "I knew that it would be difficult for you to accept. You're the oldest in your family, right?" Shade nodded. "Your mother loved a faery once. He charmed her into loving him instantly. She had no choice, really, but that's how she became pregnant with you. Of course, this faery placed a spell on the man that you call your father almost as soon as he knew there would be a child. He wanted to make sure you'd be taken care of, provided for." She paused, letting the information sink in.

"Your adoptive father fell in love with your mother, married her right away, and then you were born. Both were none the wiser." Ilarial stopped, watching Shade's reaction.

"My dad was not my real father?" Shade's voice quivered at the thought. "How would you even know that? Who was this 'faery' then? Did he tell you himself? What if you're lying?" Shade suddenly stood up and looked down at Ilarial, her heart beating hard within her chest. Her breath caught in her throat, causing it to feel tight.

Jack was suddenly standing behind her, where he took hold of her shoulders and pressed down softly. "Shade, please, sit down. You must listen to her. She knows more than you think."

Shade took a breath, eyeing Ilarial with suspicion. Sighing, she decided she didn't have much of a choice. She sank down into the sea of pillows once more, shaking and unsure.

Ilarial was still. She wasn't angry as Shade expected, but smiling. The same warm feeling flooded over Shade once more, calming her.

"You must know, faeries can't lie, unless of course they're not full faery, like yourself. We can enchant, stretch the truth or work a way around it, but never straight out lie. I do hope you believe me. I mean you no harm, child. I only wish to find the truth for you." Ilarial nodded and looked down onto the table before them. She picked up the stones and warmed them in her hands. She then dropped them on the table and watched them roll to their places.

"These stones are quite powerful. They're mined from the heart of the earth, deep within crevices never seen by man. They're called seeing stones, and the runes on them foretell futures or sing of the past. For you, I see a great journey you must undertake, a misshapen love with a broken heart, confusion...." She pointed to each stone; first a blue stone, then a pink-red one, and then blackened quartz. The last three were turquoise, purple, and yellow, and they were wedged in a group together. She paused before them, turning her head slightly as if waiting for them to speak. "Ah, yes, a most special task has fallen to you where your true self shall be revealed."

Shade stared at Ilarial. Nothing made sense to her—absolutely nothing. The stones glistened and vibrated on the table, almost glowing. Shade felt power radiating from them like a nauseating heat, making her slightly dizzy. "What does that all mean?"

"It means that you've come here in a time of war within our kind. Our Queen wants a force assembled to retrieve the Santiran Water magic. This power comes from a pool of water, where all elements and creatures are derived. It holds life and death and summons the powers of the earth. It helps keep the balance between good and evil in our land, and evil will wither against it.

"It is said that only the one who belongs to both man and faery can hold this liquid and return it to the great city of Aturine here in Guildrin, where the Queen resides. Only then will we be safe from the Unseelie attacks." She paused, studying Shade's face. "The stones tell me that someone must be you, Shade."

Shade tried to close her mouth, as if the words would taste bad if they reached her lips. Why was she so special? She was just a senior in high school, and she wasn't even sure if she was going to college. Most days, she couldn't even decide what to eat for lunch. "No way. Sorry, but you've got the wrong girl. This is nuts. I need to go. It's getting late." She chuckled nervously, shaking her head. She turned to look at Jack as she stood up. A frown played about the corners of his mouth.

"Has the Queen called assembly yet?" he asked Ilarial.

"She's doing so as we speak. I let her know that Shade would be here today. We must go now and listen. Such a historic event is not to be missed. Shade, we must take you there now," the Oracle beckoned.

Shade was sure she should've never gotten out of bed that morning.

Chapter Three

ILARIAL'S MOVEMENTS WERE light and airy, almost as though she were floating. She waved at Shade to follow as Jack opened the wooden door to the hallway. Shade was in too much shock to object, so she followed them both down the tunnels, returning to the main room, where Renny had attempted to arrest her. She stood wide-eyed at the scene. The room swelled up with more people, or faeries, or whatever the heck everyone was down there.

Ilarial pushed through the crowd, or rather it seemed to part just for her, until they reached a large platform. Here stood several guards and another woman in a great, long, red velvet gown. A tall crystal tiara flashing with diamonds and blood-red rubies rose from her long black hair. She watched them as they approached the raised platform, passing her eyes from Ilarial to Shade. Gleaming green irises bore into Shade, like fire burning in pale skin. This woman wasn't to be trifled with. The air of command and power swirled around her like a cloud. Shade suddenly felt quite tiny.

"Most Seelie queens have light, fair hair," Ilarial whispered to her. "But Zinara was born with the dark hair of an Unseelie queen and the legendary Ancients. Nonetheless, she won the Seelie crown and paid for it dearly with flesh and blood. She deserves loyalty, more than any queen ever has." Shade listened to Ilarial's short history lesson as she watched the room turn to give the Queen its full attention.

Ilarial bowed to the queen deeply and kissed her hand. "Your majesty, I present to you Shade, a halfling who has joined us today. I have read the stones, and she's the one I've been telling you about. She has finally returned to us and is the one I've foreseen for this journey. The magic of Faerie has finally brought her back to us."

The Queen listened intently, letting her eyes drift over her. Shade felt homesick already. The pressure of all the things they told her bore down like a suffocating pressure that swallowed her up. She was sinking into the depths of a deep dark well, without any hope to escape. She studied the crowd and desperately wanted to fade into it, to run down the tunnels and out of the forest as fast as she could.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Shade," Queen Zinara said as she fixed her gaze on her and offered out her hand.

Unsure of what to do, she copied Ilarial's gestures and kissed the Queen's hand. She noted Ilarial's approval and returned her eyes to the stunning Queen as she let go. The Queen turned back to the crowd, and the room fell silent.

"I find it difficult to address you today. The evil that surrounds us has threatened our peaceful lives many times as of late. My heart breaks with the death that seeps into our precious earth. I've been forced to ask of you the most dangerous of requests." The Queen's pensive pause made a ripple of curious whispers ignite. "We must obtain the magic of the Santiran Fountains once more. Our ancestors used this when the earth was once out of balance and evil lurked around every corner. We've attempted to fight the Unseelie court, but have failed to hold them back, with terrible losses. I fear our only chance against their vast army is this magic, and we must undertake a perilous journey to obtain it."

She paused, sighing and seemingly upset by what she was saying. "Unfortunately, I cannot go myself because being near the fountain would prove fatal for me. The magic of the Santiran Fountains can only be bequeathed unto a halfling, one of both worlds, human and faery. To my great joy, we have finally found her, on this night of all nights. I'm most pleased to introduce Shade." Her hand outstretched toward Shade, and the crowd cheered thunderously.

Shade was sweating with anxiety. How much longer could she stand here? She felt lightheaded, and the room was growing dim.

"She will take this journey, for it is her destiny. She needs an entourage to escort her and help get her there safely. I must ask for volunteers for this most dangerous task. Can anyone selflessly swear loyalty and guide Shade, our only hope?"

Silence engulfed the room. After a moment, soft whispers echoed throughout the great chamber as everyone shuffled and shifted about. The excitement was electric, and it reminded her of Jack's unglamoured figure, crackling and static.

_Speaking of Jack, where did he go?_ Shade thought.

Shade caught sight of him as he stepped before the Queen. "I'll go. I found her, and she's my responsibility." Jack bowed to the Queen and then stepped back. Zinara nodded and smiled at him, approval evident in her eyes.

Others stepped out from the crowd, one after the other. The fey each introduced themselves as they bowed before the Queen, and she quickly approved of all of the volunteers.

"Now, only magic can fight magic. I also need one brave volunteer who is proficient in sorcery to join the others. Is there anyone of such skill that would accept such a feat?" The room was once again quiet. Shade was definitely feeling lightheaded now. Her stomach lurched, and soon the room began to spin. Ilarial stepped over to her and placed her hand on Shade's arm. Ilarial seemed to sense Shade needed some aid and steadied her with one hand, while her other hand retrieved a small stone from her gown.

"Shade, suck on this stone. It'll make you feel better." She reached over and placed it into Shade's mouth. Shade did as told and let the flavor coat her tongue. It tasted sweet, like honey. The spinning ceased, and her stomach calmed instantly.

Wow.

"I, Braelynn, will take this task at hand," a young woman's voice echoed across the crowd. She stepped forward, causing the throng of people around her to part. She wore a light brown dress, and honey-colored hair draped about her shoulders. Her bright hazel eyes glowed with fire and ice, and freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes glowed with a fire and appeared as hard as stones.

"Dear Braelynn, yes, I would be honored if you would accompany Shade on this quest. I've heard how quickly you've moved from apprentice to great sorceress. I'm pleased that you have passed your trials with exceptional grace." Zinara nodded in approval and turned to face Ilarial and Shade. "Dearest Shade, I am indebted to you now. Please, get some rest and some food. You will need it, as tomorrow the quest begins." Without any further instructions for Shade, she bowed and turned to leave the great room, moving to the right as she walked down the corridor.

_Now what?_ Shade felt panic rise in her throat. How could she get out of this? What would her mother say? _Mom! She must be so worried_. Shade turned and searched for Ilarial and Jack, who were both softly discussing something. It all felt so surreal.

Ilarial motioned for Shade to follow as they left the platform. "I know this is very overwhelming for you. I can't make you feel more at ease, but I do hope that I can answer any questions you have. First, of course, we must eat. It is late, and the journey will be long and tedious. We should join your entourage and get to know them. They will be vital to your safety."

"My safety?" Shade widened her eyes but followed along.

Ilarial ushered Shade down another corridor that opened into yet another large area, where many people were already sitting at wooden tables. They were eating a variety of vegetables, fruits, breads, and meats. Shade's stomach grumbled with desire. She'd already forgotten how sick she'd felt not a moment ago. All she could think about was food.

She followed Ilarial to one of the great banquet tables. It looked extravagant and overfilled. Ilarial pulled a plate from a stack and handed it to Shade. Her new entourage of friends were following closely behind, piling berries, meats, and vegetables high on their plates.

When Shade was done filling her plate to the brim and accepting a drink from a friendly lady, who was handing out stone cups of fruit juice, she followed the group to an area far to the left of the banquet hall. They all sat down and began gorging themselves as though they hadn't eaten in ages. Shade joined in and inhaled most her food as she glanced at everyone, evaluating them with an inquisitive eye and noting how different they all were.

She had already forgotten most of their names. It'd been too stressful to concentrate during the assembly, and being hungry hadn't helped. She listened to all of them chatting. Murmurs of conversations and laughs rang through her ears and filled the great hall.

One of the warriors caught her eye. Long, honey-brown hair laid across his eyes before he swept the strands from his face, catching her staring. He smiled deeply and started laughing at whatever joke Jack was telling him. Lean muscles rippled under his snug shirt and form-fitting armor made of flexible leather. A sword lay strapped to his back, reflecting the torchlight of the room. He seemed younger than Jack did, but older than Shade. She watched him talk while he chewed his food, which seemed to add to his charm. He stopped chewing once he noticed her watching him, and she flicked her gaze away, back toward her plate. Her cheeks flushed, and she swiftly lowered her head to take another bite of food. Chancing another look, she caught him winking at her.

"Ilarial?" Shade spoke softly to the Oracle beside her, avoiding the man's stare.

"Yes, Shade?"

"I was just wondering, does everyone here have secret powers like Jack? He showed me what he looks like under the glamour. I was wondering if everyone here wears glamour too." Shade glanced at the group once more as she spoke. They were still engaged in their conversations.

Ilarial paused thoughtfully and glanced at the crew. She seemed to hesitate but not for long. Her small mouth slowly chewed her last bite of food, and she fixed her gleaming grey eyes upon Shade. A warm smile slowly spread across her face, and she now appeared less hesitant.

"Shade, I'm surprised that Jack has already let you know what he is. He's usually wary of strangers. Some refuse to use any kind glamour and do not venture into the human world, such as Renny. I believe you've met him. He's one of the guards of this underground city. He never leaves. He thinks humans are inferior and powerless.

"But, you've also seen Jack and how he mixes among mortals easily when he's glamoured. He's so easy to get along with too. You'll often find him on errands in the human world since he can remain within the iron of the cities for much longer periods of time. We do try to keep any incidents to a minimum, and Jack has a stellar track record. I, on the other hand, don't get out much, and I'm most sensitive to iron sickness if I tread through the cities for too long. Though, it's quite common in faeries." She then turned her eyes toward everyone else at the table. Some were partially listening, and some had yet to notice their conversation.

"You need to understand what and who everyone is, Shade. These are your guardians, and you must have complete trust in them, even if that means their identities must be revealed to you. Let's see," Ilarial waved her hand toward Braelynn, seated on the other side of her. "You already know that Braelynn is a great sorceress. She needs no glamour because all witches and warlocks look quite human. Then, there's Than. He glamours his pointy nose and pointy ears to blend with humans of the Orient. He's a skilled hunter and warrior, excellent with knives, and has lived here in Aturine all his life."

As she said this, Than gave them a curt nod, melting his glamour away with a quiver. Shade held in her breath in surprise and stared at a more beautiful version of Than. He now had pointy ears, larger eyes, and a thinner nose. He looked the same, but all his features were more exaggerated.

The oracle continued in one fluent breath. "Sary is a warrior princess." A fiery redhead waved at them with a sweet smile. "She's human but immortal. She's also set to be queen of the immortal Vyn people of the south when her mother passes the crown to her. It's a lesser kingdom, but powerful. They're very strong, and most are rather efficient archers, though Sary prefers to work in the medical arts." The princess nodded toward Shade and then continued to eat.

"Stephen is a full faery." A tattooed man grinned at her, his smile reaching up to his eyes, which twinkled in the torchlight. "He glamours himself to look less startling. His marks and vibrant skin would be unnatural to humans. He's an expert at tracking and can find almost anything and anyone, anywhere." She smiled at Stephen, who also bowed his head while melting his glamour away.

This Stephen was stunning; he would definitely stand out in a crowd. He kept his brown hair shoulder length, but his strong, beautiful eyes glowed grayish white, and sharp, swirling Celtic tattoos framed one side of his face in brilliant blue, quivering under his skin. He had a scar, probably earned in battle, which ran down the other side of his neck. It reminded her that she hoped she wouldn't have to engage in any type of fighting on the upcoming journey.

"And then, there's Rylan. He's quite extraordinary," Ilarial continued. "He's part Teleen, like Jack, but he has a skill for shape-shifting since he's part changeling too, and can become anyone you can think of. There are not too many of his kind left. We don't know what else his heritage holds. He came to us as a young child, lost in the forest, but he's loyal and handy in a pinch."

"Who's Rylan, Ilarial? I don't remember him being introduced." Shade's eyes landed on the handsome man sitting next to Jack, whom she'd stared at earlier, and who was now studying her right back intensely. She couldn't recall his name. His brilliant green eyes flashed to a honey-brown color as they gleamed at her. This man winked at her across the table earlier. Meeting his eyes again, Shade felt her cheeks flush once more.

"People call me Soap, M'lady," he said. "But, my real name is Rylan. Nasty little nickname I caught when they first found me, dirty and lost." His chuckle sent a shiver through her, like someone tickling her with a feather. She let her eyes wander back to him as he continued. "Not a flattering story." His face grew serious. "But, I'm thankful for Ilarial and my Queen's most gracious hospitality ever since. It would be an honor to defend you on this quest, Shade."

He bowed his head as her name rolled off his tongue, making her heart flip. His presence was intoxicating. He didn't seem to drop any glamour at all. She ripped her gaze away from his, certain her face was an unfavorable shade of scarlet red. _Traitorous blushing cheeks!_ Shade kept wondering if he had any glamour on, but it didn't seem like it.

"And, last but not least, Ewan," Ilarial said, waving her hand at the husky quiet man who sat at the other end of the table. He happened to be sitting next to Sary. Ewan was a large man with big hands and burly hair all over. His squared jaw was busy chomping hard on each bite of food. His thick, black hair was slicked back and fell just past his shoulders. He was gigantic and didn't seem like someone you would want to fight with in a bar. "He's part giant, part human, and very strong. He'd be the one you would want next to you in a fight, and he's been almost everywhere. Ewan will be your guide to the land of the Santirans. I believe he's the only one who has even been there."

The husky man gave a slight nod to Shade and continued shoveling food into his mouth. He'd polished off two plates already. He wasn't bad looking, Shade thought, just rough around the edges and enormous.

Shade sipped her juice, realizing how exhausted she was. She wished to see her family. What would they be doing? And Brisa−what would she think when Shade didn't show up at school in the morning? She slipped her cell phone out of her pocket and looked at the time. It was eleven pm, and there were ten missed calls from her mother and three from Brisa. She began dialing her mother's cell, when Ilarial placed her hand on the phone and shook her head.

"No calls will work from here, Shade. We're too far underground. I know you fear for your mother, but I'll take care of it. She will be okay, and I can weave a spell to help her believe you will not be gone long. I can make her believe you have been at a friend's house, perhaps? And the rest of your family too. They won't notice you're gone. There will be no pain for them, I promise. Time works differently here in the faerie lands than it does in the mundane human world. You will not be missed. I say that in a good way, though."

Shade swallowed hard with a nod. She obviously had to trust these people and saw no other way but to do what they asked of her. "Ilarial, about the voices in my head... what do I do with them? Can I make them go away or learn to control them? I feel like banging my head against the wall sometimes when they won't stop. They make me go where they want, and if I don't listen to them, they become intolerable. They're the ones who led me to Jack and then to you and this strange world. I can't live like that." Tears prickled at her eyes as she swallowed the growing lump in her throat. "It's distracting. I feel like a slave to it, and I'm powerless to ignore them. What if they drive me insane?"

Ilarial nodded, thinking hard about Shade's words. She seemed to come to a decision and smiled back at her. "Follow me. You will sleep in my quarters tonight. I will give you a potion that will help you control the voices. It will aid in blocking them out when you want to, and it will also help you listen to them when you're ready. Having more control over the voices will help you develop your own powers. You'll be able to decide your own fate while you're still so young and untrained. If you practice, in time, you can learn to use them for your own benefits. This is a difficult task, but I will help you. Will you agree to this?" Shade nodded and felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Finally, someone could help her after all these years. She just prayed that it would work.

Ilarial guided her back through the branches of tunnels that led to her own chambers. She made up a bed in the second room and then motioned for Shade enter. She handed her a bottle filled with silvery liquid.

"Take this, Shade. It will last until you return here, probably a couple weeks. It will help you remain calm, too. Don't worry. I'm not drugging you. It's just a pleasant side effect of the potion, and it will quiet the voices in your head," she reassured her. "I'll be in the other room if you need anything at all."

She gave a warm smile, and Shade felt the familiar calm flood her insides. She nodded and poured the liquid down her throat. It was sweet but left a metallic aftertaste. Licking her lips, her eyes followed Ilarial as she exited the room. Shade pulled the thick soft blankets over her body and squeezed her pillow under her head. Closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep in the soothing silence.

Chapter Four

SHADE STIRRED AWAKE while it was still dark. The door was open, and there was only a sliver of light shining around the corner from the adjacent room. A queasy feeling overwhelmed her, and for a moment, it felt like she had temporary amnesia. Sitting up, she dangled her legs over the side of the bed. She was beginning to wake up a bit more and remembered why she wasn't home. As she looked around at her surroundings, the events of the previous day rushed back to her.

Her cell phone was still working, and she grabbed it from atop her backpack on the floor beside the bed. Flipping it open, the bright screen hurt her eyes, and she squinted at the little digital clock. 5:15am. No wonder she felt tired. She was not used to waking up so early and had always been a late bird, rarely making it to school with more than a minute to spare.

Shade slipped to the edge of the bed until both her feet touched the cool stone floor. Bending down, she felt around in the dark for her socks and shoes. She wondered what she'd take for clothes on this journey. _I can't very well ask to stop by home to pick up some stuff. Well, maybe._ Maybe her mother would be gone most of the day. Shade would have to ask Ilarial if it was possible, or she'd be faced with an endless stench from not changing her clothes.

She slipped on her shoes and stood up, shaking her head and stretching her sore limbs. _Nope, definitely must get some stuff from home._ She walked into the main room of Ilarial's chamber, where she'd first met the great oracle.

She was unsure of the coming events of the day, but she had her backpack, and she decided to examine her 'supplies'. _I doubt there's anything useful in here for a perilous journey._ Shade sighed. She unzipped the bag and observed the contents: her schoolbooks, along with some snacks, an mp3 player, as well as a dozen pens, pencils, erasers, a stapler, and a tube of lip balm. Other than her books and snacks, there was her notebook full of poems and stories she wrote when bored.

Emergency preparedness at its best.

Shade shook her head disapprovingly. She had to stop by her house, dump her textbooks, and fill her bag with badly needed essentials. Running her hand through her matted hair, it caught in the frizzy knots from sleeping on it. She groaned. It was a frazzled mess. Hearing a swish behind her, she whirled around to see Ilarial standing at the doorway of the suite.

"I tried to be quiet. I did not want to scare you. Here, take these clothes. I know you need things from your house. I have already cast a spell on your mother. She will leave at seven am to run errands and shop with your siblings. She's just fine and very happy. I will make sure of it." She handed Shade a pile of light but luxuriously soft tunics and trousers. The material was smooth and felt like pajamas. Ilarial handed her a belt and leather strings to tie the tunics with. She also furnished some hard-soled leather shoes, which were also soft but surprisingly sturdy.

"Soap can take you to your house. He's on his way. Do come back by ten am, as that is when they will be about ready to leave. Can I see your backpack?" She held her hand out for the pack. "I can help lighten the load with a shrinking spell. Anything you place in your bag will shrink hundreds of times its normal size and return to normal when you take it back out. Whatever you want, just summon it, and it will come straight to you. You can bring anything you wish." Shade nodded in awe as she handed the pack to Ilarial. Ilarial whispered the spell softly and ran her hand over the pack, closing her eyes. When she was through, she returned it to Shade.

"There, see? It's as light as a feather."

Shade held the pack, and it felt very light, as though it was empty. She opened it, reached inside for one of her textbooks, and it appeared in her hand immediately, though she couldn't see anything inside the now darkened interior. "Wow! That's amazing! I can stick whatever I want in it now, right? Does it have a weight limit? That's just way cool!" Shade felt her excitement fluttering through her now, and her fatigue evaporated.

Ilarial laughed, "Yes, dear Shade, anything you can think of. A most useful spell, don't you think? You could move your whole house in one trip."

Ilarial smiled warmly. It was that same smile that felt like cozy hot chocolate melting the cold of winter away. She motioned for Shade to follow her into another bedroom. This one belonged to Ilarial and was centered in the middle of the house. It was layered with thick, clean but colorful blankets, and there were also a number of pillows. On the far side of the room was a rack filled with weapons. Silvery knives, sharp stone arrows, and wooden-tipped ones filled the corner. There were also hatchets, axes, throwing stars, and daggers overflowing the rack.

"Please, choose some weapons. I find that if a weapon calls to you, it's meant to be yours alone. Feel them sing to you, Shade. Touch the metal and the wood, and tell me what you feel. Please, take the ones that you like." She motioned to the weapons as Shade gaped at them from the doorway. As Shade stepped closer and reached out to touch them, her fingers landed on an ornamental dagger. There were gems on the hilt, and they were glistening in the candlelight along with the blade of the dagger. The blue and blood-red jewels brightened as Shade's fingers brushed the handle.

Shade stepped back with excitement in her eyes. "Wow, they feel like they're buzzing under my skin! Is it magic?" She reached out and touched some of the throwing stars, which hummed equally as loud as the dagger. They were glowing with an eerie blue and green hue around the steel. She could feel the power radiating through the dagger as it made her heart race and her fingers tingle.

"Go ahead, Shade, take some and place them in your pack. You may need them sooner than you think. Your aim will be true. Your strength will increase a hundredfold with them. Just use them wisely and never in haste."

Shade frowned at the ominous statement. She didn't want to _need_ to use any kind of weapons. Who would? Even so, she placed several stars, daggers and a sword in her pack. All were small enough for her thin hands but big enough to do some kind of damage, if only she knew how to use them. She looked at Ilarial, pausing with slight fear rising to her throat.

"What if I don't come back? What exactly are we going to go through that I'd need such an entourage and magical weapons? It's freaking me out a bit. I'm just a regular girl. I'm really not the outdoorsy type. I don't see why it has to be me." Shade felt a tightening in her throat as panic set in, and it became hard to breathe. Pressing her lips tight into a flat line, she took a moment to gather her thoughts before she frowned and continued. "You need a half blood, I know, but why me? I can't be the only one on earth. Please don't be offended, but I really don't want to go!" Tears welled in her eyes, and she did her best to keep them from spilling onto her cheeks.

"Shade, I am truly sorry that you feel this way. I know it's very overwhelming and confusing. I have foreseen that you, and only you, can do this and come back alive. I have not told you this, but there have been others brought to me before, and they were not suited for this, even though they tried." She paused, sighing deeply and stroking Shade's hair. "Don't underestimate yourself. You are strong and carry powers you have barely begun to explore. The warriors will help you and teach you how to use your magic and strength. Let them in. Heed what they say and show you. You are in the best hands now. I know you will come to know that this is not a curse but a blessing."

Someone cleared their throat, and both Shade and Ilarial turned around. Rylan bowed his head as he entered, ready to take Shade into the unknown. "Soap at your service, Shade. Hello, Ilarial. It's time to for us to leave." He straightened and waited quietly.

Shade swallowed her tears and sighed. There was no turning back now. She gave him a weak grin and swung her pack over her shoulder. Running her fingers through her rat's nest of hair, she suddenly wished she'd brought her brush with her, especially with Soap's twinkling gaze lingering. She straightened up and followed Soap out the door as Ilarial waved a farewell.

The walk down the corridor seemed endless. Neither of them spoke, but they moved briskly on the stone floors. They soon passed the great hall, now abandoned and silent. Soap was in the lead as they continued on to the roots of the tree where the entrance lay. Soap paused and called out the same words Jack had spoken to open the stairway. " _Endora, philis montie!"_

The roots shook, and dirt sprayed down onto them, making Shade swat to keep it off her clothes. The great stone staircase emerged from the dirt walls and came together in a massive spiral. Light streamed in through the opening, and the stone steps sparkled in the sunlight.

"Wow!" Shade stepped forward in awe. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before, brilliant and beautiful.

Soap grinned at her comment. "It is said the steps were made out of crushed diamonds and stone more than a millennium ago. Nothing else can compare to such an amazing entrance. Our kingdom boasts the most amazing underground palace this side of the country."

He took the steps two at a time and moved so swiftly that he looked as if he was floating like a feather. It appeared as though he was evaporating through the ceiling as he climbed the stairs. Shade struggled to keep up but finally cleared the opening. The morning air was thick with mist; all the leaves and flowers were wet with dew, glistening like rainbows. The air was fresh and clean out in the deep forest. She watched the gravel and rock swallow the staircase until there was nothing left on the forest floor but dirt and plants. _It must be hidden by magic,_ she thought, turning to see Soap waiting patiently.

He picked a brilliant purple flower from a bush and smiled. "Here is a true beauty, so rare to find in the mornings. These mostly bloom at night." He reached over to hand her the flower, bowing slightly. "A beauty for a beauty." His long brown hair swept forward and swayed in the breeze, as the gold highlights shone in the sun and made his hair a brilliant honey brown, lush and loose.

Shade smiled, blushing pink, and taking the flower, she sniffed its wild aroma. "It smells amazing! I've never smelled anything like it." She looked up at the young man, her eyes widening. She felt different, like a calm ocean had swept her away, and she was now floating gently. Her vision swayed for a moment as she shook it off, thinking it was just fatigue. These feelings were new to her, and she didn't know what to do with them.

"Night-wind Tigerlily. It has a calming, sleepy effect but only when you smell it. It goes away almost immediately, but it helps calm the nerves and is good to have on hand if you suffer from insomnia. Stuffing a few of these petals in your pillow keeps you almost sedated. That's not an effect you want to have right now, but it will relax you." He winked and turned, his long hair swaying in the breeze. He walked through the shrubs, moving gingerly and skillfully, as only a trained soldier could. Shade followed him almost as if she was in a trance. This world was amazing so far. She hoped that whatever was out there would be just as thrilling and not terrifying.

They walked swiftly, dodging bushes and ducking under branches. The woods was brimming with life. Birds chirped and squirrels raced by, hurrying up the trees. The deer glanced at them as they walked past, and insects buzzed by, intent on unknown errands. Shade could actually feel the life around her, and it was like warm sunshine spilling onto her like never before. _Why did the world seem so different this morning?_ She didn't think anything had changed all that much. Maybe this was how the land of Faerie was all the time. It was a wonder she hadn't stumbled upon it before.

Maybe it's because I avoid the outdoors like a plague.

She observed Soap. He was graceful, dodging things easily and maneuvering around like a nimble dancer. His body seemed to float around obstacles and trees, like the rustling of a flowing stream of air. She wondered again if he was wearing glamour at all. "Soap?"

"Yes, m'Lady," he said as he looked over his shoulder at her, while winking one of his gleaming green eyes.

"I was just wondering why you didn't remove any glamour before. Do you wear one like Jack? Ilarial said you were part Teleen like him. Wouldn't you have to wear glamour to not electrocute things?" She pushed a branch and let it snap back with a crack while she fired her questions at him.

Soap slowed and came to a stop, turned toward her, and stared intently. "Shade, I'm part Teleen, like Jack is. I'm also a shape shifter. I don't need glamour to look human. This _is_ me as I am. I can shift and look full Teleen, like Jack, if I wish, or I could change into a bird, lion, wolf, another person or faery, anything, even...." He paused. He'd been moving closer while he spoke and now stood almost touching her. He bent down slightly so that if either one of them stepped forward, they would bump faces. "I could even change myself to look like other people, other men or women, anyone you could think of or want me to be."

She could feel his warmth radiating across the air and over her skin. It was hot and rippling. Her breath caught in her throat with him so near. He smiled. "Do you want to see?" His eyes widened with a sense of mischief dancing around in them.

She nodded, hoping she wouldn't regret that decision. In a flash, the lines around him blurred like a steamy window. Now, before her stood a pale young man with jet-black, spiky hair and fair skin. Gleaming blue eyes shone back at her. His build was similar to Soap's, but slightly shorter and thinner, yet still taller than she was. Their eyes were almost level, and he stepped even closer, one hand reaching up and stroking her face. Shade felt her heart thud in her chest.

"I could look like anyone you can dream of, anyone you could ever want me to be." His lips were mere centimeters from hers, arresting her breath with their proximity. He reached up to run his fingers down the curve of her cheek, making her step back as a surge of energy prickled along the line of his touch. It was enthralling and made her woozy. _What's going on here?_

Soap lowered his hand, still not changing back. He was radiant and glowed slightly, but it wavered. "I can use enchantments on anyone, so they'll forget who they are or even what they're doing. You stepped away. Why is that?" He contemplated his words as he stared intently at her. "I don't seem to have absolute power over you, Shade. That's very strange... unusual." He continued to look at her, frowning at his thoughts, looking slightly unnerved. A moment later, curiosity gleamed in his eyes.

"Could you change back, Soap? You're scaring me." She stepped back, her eyes wide open. "What did you do to me exactly?"

Soap smiled and just as quickly blurred right back into his normal self. His long brown hair and green-gemmed eyes glinted at her. "Pardon, M'lady. I meant no harm. I won't do that again, but you can see that my magic could be quite useful. Most fey and human alike can't resist my charm, but you, on the other hand...." He tilted his head, confused. "It barely touched you. It's as if you're immune to it or something. Amazing. Oh well, can't have everything, right?" He turned away and continued, as if nothing had happened. Shade took a deep breath and followed. She felt slightly enraged by his admission that he'd tried to use magic on her. He never asked her if it was okay or not. Biting her tongue, she followed silently.

The forest seemed to stretch out for miles. Twigs and leaves crunched under their feet, snapping and crackling as they walked. The noise seemed louder in the vastness of the woods and quiet of the morning. Shade kept her eyes on the forest floor, but she glanced up every so often to watch Soap's long brown hair swinging in the cool breeze. He tied it back with a leather string matching the color of his hair. She wondered who he was and why he was coming on this journey with her. She supposed it might be for her protection, but she was nothing to him. Why risk himself for her?

Her mind continued to race with questions. Why had he been alone as a child in this desolate forest? _He could've been killed, eaten alive by an animal._ She looked at the thick shrubbery around her and shivered at the thought.

Finally, they reached the forest's edge and could hear traffic in the distance. For a brief moment, Shade had almost forgotten about the reality of her world. She'd been so mesmerized by Soap's magic, charms, and of Faerie itself. The road was not far from the woods, and soon they were walking in the direction of her house. Shade wondered if her mother had already left. She secretly wished she would run into her anyway, just to say hello, and maybe she could get a warm hug and kiss goodbye. The little things she would miss overwhelmed her. What if she didn't come back? When they reached her house, they stopped and examined the exterior.

The worn-down exterior consisted of bricks and old siding that happened to be partially dry-rotted. The house was old but comfortable, the rust-red exterior bricks rough with age. Weeds clung to the base of the house. Toys and balls were carelessly tossed across the yard. She smiled. Her little brothers and sister were loved dearly, but they were also spoiled rotten.

Their mother worked hard, especially now that she was a single mom. Somehow, there was never a lack of love to go around. Sometimes she did get a little absent-minded, with so much going on between all of them, but forgetfulness was forgivable. It made Shade's heart twist with a hollow pain to think of her small, tight-knit family.

She was sure her mother was gone. The beat-up minivan was not parked in the driveway, and there were no crazy little kid screams filling the house, like usual. The place seemed eerily silent. Shade shook away her disappointment and started for the door, with Soap following closely behind.

Shade jingled her keys out of her pocket and turned the knob. No one came running to greet her when she swung open the door. The house was still and vacant. The usual noises echoing through the rooms flitted through her mind. She sighed and headed in, closing the door behind them. She turned toward Soap and nodded. "If it's ok, I'll gather my stuff. See if you can find any canned, non-perishable food we can take. And I'd like to take a quick shower," she added.

He gave her a deep nod and smiled that iridescent smile of his. Gleaming white teeth flashed at her for a second.

Shade smiled back nervously, turned, and raced up the stairs. Her room looked pretty much the same. Because she was the oldest, she and her little sister didn't share a room. It was nice that her mother had agreed with her that she needed her own space. Her mom always asked a lot of her during the day, and it was nice to have some privacy at night. Of course, that meant Anna, her little sister, had her own room, too−lucky by default.

Shade smiled, taking in the loveliness of the room. The quilt on her bed had pink and red patches in it. The walls of her room were a light shade of rose. There were also items in various shades of pink and purple scattered throughout the room. She loved to decorate and had tons of girlie stuff all around. She'd obtained most of her things from thrift stores, people at church, or friends who'd given them to her. Everything was a treasure to her.

She opened her drawers, began rummaging through the clothes, and stuffed some into her backpack. She riffled through her closet, found a pair of hiking shoes, and grabbed them. After Shade finished throwing some towels, a pillow, and a few blankets into the backpack, she noticed a picture frame on her nightstand. All of her family was in the photo. It'd been taken at the park on a sunny spring day, and their faces were gleaming with laughter and flashing.

Shade picked up the little frame, feeling her eyes burn with tears. How she missed them already, and it was just yesterday that she'd last seen them. Her father was in the picture as well, her human father. She held back a sob and stuffed the picture into the pack. Reaching over to hook up her cell phone for a quick charge while she finished packing, she began getting things ready for the day ahead. She pulled a clean outfit out of her closet and laid it on her bed. Peering at her dresser mirror, she studied her hair, which was lying in tangled waves, glistening in the morning sun that streamed in from the windows.

_What a disheveled mess!_ She sighed and looked around once more. _Now for that shower!_

She finished quickly, tossing her toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash, and sponge into a Ziploc bag to stuff in her backpack. She ran her brush through the tangles of hair and groaned at the knots. She finally got them out, and the brush went into her backpack, too. She loved Ilarial's spell. There was no need to worry about packing light with that! She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, since it was still sopping wet from the shower.

_All set except for the water and food downstairs_. She listened for a moment for Soap, but he was awfully silent for cleaning out the cupboards. She shrugged, left the bathroom, and went down the stairs.

Soap was standing by the kitchen window, which looked out at both the side yard and the front yard. He didn't seem to notice her coming in. She paused and watched him. He seemed so serene. She wondered just how old he really was and how easily he could pass for a senior in high school; well, maybe not. She smiled at the thought of Soap in gym shorts and shirt, not really a fitting look for him.

He was staring at her when she came out of her thoughts. "What are you smiling at? Do I have breakfast stuck to my face?" He blinked at her, baffled and furrowing his eyebrows.

Shade laughed and shook her head. "No, silly, I was just thinking about how you would totally not fit in at school. You don't really look like a human teenager. How old are you anyway?" She glanced down at the pile of cans and water bottles piled neatly on the floor in the middle of the kitchen. She bent down and began shoving them into her pack.

"I'm about twenty in human years, no difference in fey years, really. That's if you go from me being six years old when I was found. Anyway, that was what they guessed me to be. Who knows? I don't remember anything before that." He bent down to help her with the food. His long ponytail hung over his face as he kneeled over the pile.

"Wow, so you could be older or younger, huh?" He nodded, not looking up. They finished and stood. "Can you think of anything else?"

"I found flashlights for you. I don't need them, but you might." He tossed some at her. She caught them just in time and frowned at him.

"What do you mean, you don't need them? Do you see in the dark?" She pushed them into the pack.

Soap laughed. He had a contagious warm laugh that made her want to smile.

"No, we have witch light. We can all conjure it up if needed. I don't even need witch light. Being part Teleen I just let some of my element of lightning glow out of me. I can see just fine with that." His handsome smile flashed back at her again.

Shade stared hard at the floor, frowning. "I don't have any powers."

Soap chuckled, finding her confusion amusing. "All faeries have powers, even half-bloods like you. Don't underestimate yourself ever, Shade. It could be your undoing." He looked at her seriously, his eyes flashing to light amber, like honey.

She could've sworn that he'd had green eyes before. They seemed to change into different colors every time she looked at him. It was intriguing. Shade gulped and nodded. What could she say to that? There wasn't anything, so she just quietly agreed.

After they left, Shade locked the front door, stopping as she stared at its worn paint. She had a gut feeling she might not see it, or the rest of the house, again. It felt like butterflies knotted her stomach. She thought more now than ever about how much she would miss her family. She never got to say goodbye. Her hand reluctantly fell to her side from the doorknob as she turned toward the street. _Nothing like saying goodbye without a goodbye_.

They walked silently in the direction of the forest, passing all the houses and buildings she knew. The day was brilliant and warm with a slight breeze. Some kids were playing in their front yards, hollering and screaming as they ran around. Shade's ponytail tossed about her face with each small gust of wind.

She watched Soap walking ahead of her. His sword was still strapped to his back, and his long, golden-brown hair was swaying in the wind. She stopped, realizing how different they must look to everyone on the road. Most people didn't walk down the street in tunics or have swords strapped to their backs. "Um, Soap?"

He turned, stopping to look at her, and noticed the horror on her face. He quickly darted his eyes around and looked for any signs of danger.

She jogged until she caught up beside him. "Don't we look unusual walking around in the streets dressed like Robin Hood and not wearing modern-day clothes? And your sword, why hasn't it freaked out everyone passing us or driving by?" She watched him grin and relax. That smile was getting to be unnerving.

"We're glamoured, Shade. I've extended glamour over both of us to appear like we're just two teenagers walking along in grunge clothing. Besides Jack, I'm the only one who ventures out into the cities and gets to mingle among humans. The iron doesn't even faze us at all."

Shade listened closely, slowly beginning to understand this phenomenon.

He turned back and began walking again. "I kind of like wandering around the city, sometimes. It's soothing to me, and I like to watch people or just blend in sometimes. We must hurry, though. It's already getting to be late morning, and the plan was to leave around ten a.m. I think we might be late."

He began walking again at a brisk pace. Shade sighed, shook her head, and scrambled after him.

Chapter Five

THE ENTOURAGE FILLED the entranceway, with all their things spread out in massive mounds. It was almost time to leave the faeries' dwelling. Everyone was stuffing bags or strapping last-minute weapons onto their bodies. Braelynn looked up from the many small bags of herbs and ground stones she and Sary prepped, slowly arranging them in a medicine bag. The low hum of voices stopped as Shade and Soap approached the group. Sary and Stephen turned toward them and stopped sharpening their knives. Jack stood erect, ready to go. He gave them both a curt nod. No one seemed to know what to say to them.

"Guess your ears were burning, Shade, Soap. We were waiting for you," Ewan said. "Here are your sleeping tent packs, and they're all ready to go. Ilarial will be up in a moment. I'm sure she already knows you're here." Ewan's deep voice boomed like a drum, seeming to come from deep within him, like a belly laugh echoing in a large room. He walked up to them, smiling. His husky shoulders were wide, but he was not by any means fat. Shade smiled at him. He was big-boned and looked like a fluffy teddy bear.

"Thanks, Ewan," Soap answered. He was quieter now, within the group. Soap didn't seem to volunteer much information about anything, now that she thought about it, unless she pried it out of him. There would be plenty of time to ask him more about faeries and himself during the journey.

"Hello," Ilarial came to stand by them, looking brilliant. "I'm happy to send you off with news of great weather to come, at least in the beginning. I sense good fortune for the start of your journey. I trust everyone is ready. Ewan will be your guide to the land of the Santirans. Your journey will be perilous, fraught with danger, and a challenge to your endurance. Not many have ever traveled so far from the Guildrin mound. My heart and spirit are with you, Shade." Ilarial motioned to her to come closer.

"Shade, you're incredibly unselfish to aide us in our fight. Your entourage will take good care of you. They'll teach you the ways of our magic. You may seem fragile and harmless, but the potential to be great lies within you. Now, I send you off, my friends. Good journey!" Ilarial smiled and wrapped her arm around Shade's shoulders. Shade felt instantly alert and happy. Ilarial sure had a way with comforting others. She was like walking Xanax, Shade thought.

Ewan turned toward the group. Everyone was stuffing the last of their items away into their charmed packs, and, like Shade's, they appeared to hold many things. He cleared his throat and held his arms out above his head.

"Alright everybody, listen up, for this will not be repeated. I'll be guiding you on the path to the Santiran lands. Our stop today will be the Teleen caverns. Please stay with the group at all times. We start north until almost dusk. The Teleen are private people, and Jack has assured us of their complete cooperation. They will host us for the night. I remind everyone to keep their hands to themselves for, like Jack, they can electrocute with one touch, so be wary.

"Second, if we are separated for any reason at all, follow the North Star to the great hills of wild flowers. From there, you will find the great gate to the caverns on the northwest end of the valley. Please let them know who you are, and you will have safe passage. They have our names from Ilarial already. Good journey, everyone." He nodded, bent to grab his own pack, and slung it onto his back. He waved for everyone to follow.

Shade quickly shoved the sleeping roll into her backpack and zipped it up. She watched everyone filing in behind Ewan and cut into the line to join him, right ahead of Soap. She glanced at him as she turned her head slightly, absorbing his cool, smiling eyes. There was so much behind those eyes that Shade wondered about. She wasn't sure his overly happy exterior matched the soul within.

The forest floor crunched under their feet as they walked at a slow and steady pace. Some of the group was shifting into pairs, while others chose to remain in single file. She looked over her shoulder to find Soap and, for a moment, couldn't see him. He had somehow snuck up and was walking beside her. He glanced over at her. Smiling, he lifted his eyebrows into a questioning look.

"What's wrong, dear Shade? You looked mighty concerned." He was now shoulder to shoulder with her.

She gave him another quick look before darting her eyes back to the trail. Often, she had to check for fallen tree branches, tangled vines, and roots that impeded their pathway. _No wonder we're moving so slowly._ "Um, nothing. Just nervous, I guess. Isn't there a better way to travel than on foot? How far away are the Santiran Lands? I hope it's not that far. I hate hiking...Hey, why are you laughing?" Shade pressed her lips together, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks.

Soap was chuckling. "Sorry, you just crack me up. My dear Shade, I meant no disrespect. You're a breath of fresh air. I guess it can be enlightening, chatting about our peculiar lives. To answer your questions, yes, there _are_ better ways to get around than on foot. We have to leave the Guildrin forest, for it's forbidden to fly or travel any other way near the kingdom. Once we leave the trees behind us, we can fly, run fast, or travel by horse if available. We won't have horses because there are none so close to an iron city. We can't run because you wouldn't be able to keep up, and we can't fly because some of us can't fly at all. That leaves one option: walking." He kept his eyes on the path, swinging his short sword in front of him to slice off a branch that swung back toward them.

"What about using a car? Or even an airplane? Why not go that way?" She felt utterly confused and not one bit satisfied with his answers. She was starting to wonder what was so great about being a faery if you couldn't do regular things like drive, or ride in an airplane.

"No way would any faery ride in one those things. They reek of iron! Like I've told you, iron is deadly to faeries. If faeries stay around iron for long periods of time, they become seriously ill." He snickered as he beat back another branch and walked along. He seemed amused and maybe a little frustrated that he had to explain the iron sickness again.

"But, you and Jack can tolerate it," Shade replied. "Is it just you and him then? Plus, it doesn't bother me at all either. Why? I'm part faery, supposedly. Is it because I'm part human?" She dodged a large leafy bush that was in her way just before it slammed into her chest.

"Yes, I suppose it's because you're part human, though not all halflings are so lucky. Because you're half human, you get the best of both worlds. It's the human part of you which allows you to escape from the dangers of iron sickness, and you can hide in the iron cities without any problems."

"What else are the faeries vulnerable to?"

He furrowed his brows and seemed to pause for a second to ponder her question. His contorted features made her smile, realizing she'd never get over how amazingly handsome he was. She wondered if he had a girlfriend in this fairytale life of his. It made her glad he didn't need glamour, even though none of them wore it at the moment, besides Jack. They were staying within the Guildrin forest until they reached the valley of the Teleen, so no human interactions would be part of the trip. It made her wonder how big the forest really was. She had so many questions, she just didn't know where to start.

"Well, if you think about faery stories, they can be quite useful in helping you defend yourself against the fey. Cold iron is toxic, as you know. People can fend the fey off by reversing their clothes. That works mainly against the more sinister creatures of Faerie. We also have an ointment of truth that humans can use to have 'true sight', unless a faery allows them to see past our glamours or tricks. Fire keeps most wild fey away. I guess they don't like the burning carbon. I'm not sure, though. Not much of it bothers me, but anything not related to nature is pretty much an anti-faery charm.

"I would always keep some sort of a memory charm on you to remember your way home. Those are impervious to spells any faery might throw at you to make you forget who you are and enslave you."

"You don't sound like a friendly bunch." Shade snickered. "Honestly, I can't see you guys being that bad." She waved toward the other warriors and shook her head. "I just don't get it."

Soap laughed a deep, taunting laugh that made Shade glare at him. She hated being laughed at. Shaking her head, she continued on, ignoring his snarks. The other warriors were already a good deal ahead of them.

They remained in silence for a long time after that. No one spoke. Everyone silently hiked along, slicing down branches. Only the crunch of dead leaves and twigs filled the afternoon air. The birds twittered above, sometimes flying in groups with their wings flapping loudly. It wasn't easy moving fast in the forest. Roots and uneven ground were plentiful, threatening every footstep with a fall, or worse, broken bones if one was not careful. _This situation is just a twisted ankle waiting to happen_. Shade gritted her teeth, concentrating on the loose rocks and roots that lay haphazardly across their path.

They finally came upon a clearing in the forest. The warriors paused, watching Jack and Ewan for a signal. Jack scouted the clearing's edge and looked for any kind of movement. The rest of the group was hunched and hiding behind trees and bushes, waiting for the all clear. Shade perched herself behind a large redwood tree. The bark was rough and crumbled under her fingers. It felt warm under her touch, like there was life pulsating inside the massive trunk. She wondered why she could now feel the life all around her. Did it have to do with this forest being fey territory? She wondered if there was something new happening within her, or if they were all being affected by an unknown force.

She suddenly realized it'd been quite some time since she'd heard the voices in her head. She felt relieved, but it also felt like something was missing. Maybe she'd try what Ilarial had mentioned. Since she'd taken the medicine Ilarial had given her to control the voices, it was easier to think. She thought now she'd try to speak to them with specific requests, and then listen for a specific answer. Ilarial had said this exercise would help her get to know the voices, and hopefully she'd learn to use her spirit guides to her own advantage.

_Are we safe?_ Shade waited, quieting her mind and listening for the response.

_Yes,_ they said as one _._

She jumped. The answer came like a voice on the breeze, or like someone whispering into her ear. She spun around, but saw no one, and glanced over to Soap, who was behind another tree to her left. He placed a finger to his lips, signaling for silence, and turned back toward the front of the group.

_Wow, a one-word answer._ It was enough to make her freak out. _Ok, well that was a good little exercise_. She watched Ewan give them an 'all clear' signal. Standing up, she shuffled back into line behind the warriors. Elated, she felt a renewed sense of peace inside.

The sun felt warm on her back as they worked their way across the field. They made sure to avoid the center of the clearing, choosing to avoid being too exposed. They were near the edge, and even though it would take longer to get through, it felt safer knowing cover was nearby. Shade inhaled the fresh air of the countryside. Flowers, pine trees, and deadened mulch were on the ground and mixed with dirt, but perfumed the air.

The forest was surreal compared to her usual reality of constant smog, exhaust, honking cars, and the smell of iron in the city. Out here, none of that seemed to exist, and she let herself enjoy the beautiful afternoon. Dragonflies and ladybugs buzzed around her and disappeared into the forest. She wondered if they were close to a body of water with so many dragonflies about. She was surprised not to see any more of the tiny winged fey she'd encountered with Jack. There was no one else around.

_Where is everyone? Are there more fey out here?_ Shade wondered.

Yes, they're watching, wondering who you are. Wondering why so many are treading the trails with you.

She smiled. The voice was gentle and did not scare her as the voices had before. It seemed like a light caress, a lover's promise in a whisper. She knew then that it would never be like before. Ilarial used the medicine to channel the guides, to help Shade better understand them. The voices wouldn't be an overbearing force on her ever again. She had to remember to thank Ilarial profusely for this gift.

Do you have a name? Is there more than one of you?

_Yes,_ the voices answered. _There are three of us that remain with you. Each of us will answer you in a specific situation. We each are helpful in certain things. I am Duende. The others are Astrid and Elaby. We are your spirit guides. There were more, but Ilarial has forced them away, for they're too much for you to handle. We're entrusted with your wellbeing, Shade. Ask us what you will, and we will always answer._

Shade shivered, despite the heat of the sun. Their whispers were like the gentle chill of winter. The feeling prickled her skin and was full of magic. She wondered if she'd ever get used to these changes.

The group re-entered the forest on the other side of the clearing. The cool cover of the forest canopy felt colder than it had before. Shade noticed how much darker it seemed on this end. It seemed quieter too; only a breeze rustling through the leaves broke up the silence. Even the forest floor was more barren, with packed, dark dirt and occasional twigs littered about.

This was not the same territory. Shade wondered if this was the start of Teleen territory or maybe even something else.

"Keep together, everyone. We're near the borders of the Teleen's property. It's guarded well by the dead, along with soldiers that were banished fey, and ghosts alike. Welcome to the Haunted Forest." Ewan snickered, obviously thinking that everyone enjoyed his humor. No one was laughing. Shade hurried up to him as the group tightened. She was curious about the place and figured he would be the one to ask about the name of it.

"Ewan!" She slowed her breathing as she neared him. He was a lot farther ahead of the group than she'd thought. She hunched over, holding her knees as her breath returned to her.

Ewan paused and looked at Shade. Even without the sun breaking through the canopy, the irises of his eyes shone like small flashlights glinting back at her. He was big. He had to be at least six-eleven. He hovered over her like he was one of the trees himself. His broad shoulders were wide, and strong muscular arms followed. He looked like a tall, husky human male with dark stubble almost long enough for a beard shadowing his jawline. A long, black as night ponytail was tied near the base of his neckline. He had a rounded nose and full pink lips. Although his height and bulk made him scary, he wasn't that bad looking. Ewan never bothered with any glamour.

"Well, little one, what heeds you?" Smiling brought out deep wrinkles around his eyes and laugh lines that creased at his mouth. This man had a smile that showed he enjoyed living and had experienced many wondrous things. He started walking again when she'd caught up, moving together in stride.

"I was just wondering why they call this the Haunted Forest. What do you mean it has ghosts? Will we see any? Will they hurt anyone?" She fired her questions at him all at once.

Ewan's deep booming laugh echoed around them. The forest made no reply. "Slow down, miss. Wouldn't want to wake the dead, would we? Nothing to fear now. Yes, there are ghosts and spirits aplenty here, hence the name, but since we will leave this forest for the Great Teleen caves before nightfall, we will mostly miss them. They can harm you, but only if you let your fear overwhelm your mind. They'll sense that and focus on you, so just ignore them. Show no fear and stay calm. They will pretty much leave you alone." He grinned down at her.

Shade liked him instantly. He was like a large teddy bear. At least he was nice. He made her feel warm and safe. "Do we have a long way to go to the caves?"

"I'd say two to three hours' journey. We will hit the hills first and then the incline to the mountains of the Teleen. They live in massive caves that run for miles underground. You'll be most impressed." Ewan's face stilled. He glanced at her, and his eyes intensified. "Miss Shade, may I ask a question?" He continued the trek forward, glancing frequently to assess each step.

"Yes, of course, Ewan, feel free."

"Are you all right with this, being the chosen one and all? Do you want to turn back yet?"

Shade's eyes widened as she stared at him. She _was_ scared. She didn't want to go, but how could she say no? Her voice failed to answer.

"I thought so." Ewan nodded, keeping in step with her and dodging the large tree trunks in their path. It was much easier to walk on the packed earth. It was dark, rich in color, and remained smooth over the small hills of the forest floor. The previous shrubs and plants they cut down had been such a bother. The trees seemed to grow larger here, too, and were flat out gigantic.

"Ewan, I can't say no. Something just tells me I should be here. I don't even know how to explain it. It's as if I'm being pulled involuntarily along for a ride I didn't sign up for. I can't unwrap myself from it. Besides, maybe I might find out who my real father is and more about myself, too. I do want to learn my faery powers, if I have any. That would be pretty cool. I have so many questions about things now and no answers yet, and I'm guessing this is the best way to find out." She stared at the ground. She felt weary already, and they hadn't even gone very far.

"Understandable." He winked and continued.

Shade stopped in her tracks. The hair on her neck stood on end, and a sense of being watched crept up her spine. Her eyes widened as they darted, glancing around them.

"What's wrong, Shade? Feel something?" Ewan stopped also, listening hard and signaling a full stop with his hand. Everyone crouched by the trees and looked around, studying the woods as they stilled. Not one sound, not even the birds chirping, could be heard. The silence felt deafening, heavy, and forlorn.

Shade still felt a twinge of fear. Her head shook, and the sweat began to bead along her forehead. _What's going on?_ It felt as if something hot was being poured over her, sticky as it clung like thick syrup. Her panic boiled up inside, tumbling out of control. _What is this? What's happening?_

Ewan called out to the trees, "That's enough of that now. The girl is harmless. She's with us. We're Guildrin Clan, en route to Teleen. Bring down your guard. We're invited."

Shade looked about, seeing nothing but tree bark and dirt. The wind gusts picked up and swooshed around her, bringing her hair to float about her like an aura. Shade's breath failed her, and her heart jumped. The group unsheathed their swords, bows, arrows, and daggers. They were readied and pointed.

_Pointed at what_? Shade felt something was near but couldn't see anyone or anything.

"Back down, or we will fight."

"You dare defy me, _the_ Mistress of these woods? You should have asked _me,_ not the Teleen, to pass. You insult my authority. Queen Zinara grows careless of her lands, and she forgets me. Forgotten, I shall never be." The wind swirled around the group, sending everyone to their knees. "Beg forgiveness of your Queen, Lady Blythe, Dryad Queen of the Haunted Forest!"

Ewan slowly bowed his head, kneeled on the ground and signaled to the others to do the same. "Forgive us, dear Lady Blythe, Queen of the Dryads of the Haunted Forest. We meant no disrespect. We ask to pass through your territory to the Teleen Caves. We had no knowledge of your return to these parts, afraid we were, as was your sister, that you had abandoned the Guildrin clan. We beg mercy of Your Majesty." Shade looked up through her lashes to see if anything appeared. The wind made her blink constantly, and her eyes watered from the whipping air.

Suddenly, the wind stopped. The change in the air felt even denser than it had before. Everyone looked up and gazed upon the Queen of the Dryads. She was perched on a large branch just above them. Her skin was pale and glassy white, as if she was made of porcelain. Her dark green eyes were large, so large in fact, that the whites of her eyes disappeared, and yet somehow they had a slit-like appearance. Her long dark blond hair draped around her carelessly in soft wisps down to her legs. It was like a cape, flying in some self-contained breeze. A crown of twisted twigs and angel's breath lay on her head, spilling down like entrails in her hair. The sheer dress she wore was more like torn worn silk, swaying around her in the breeze and tied together by a belt of roped vines.

She looked just as a faery would, ethereal and almost unreal. Her skin glowed like moonlight reflecting on the surface of a pool of water. Shade gasped with amazement. She thought, at first, that it was glamour the dryad wore, but, she felt no such magic floating around Lady Blythe. Her magic was the woods, the trees, earth, plants, and creatures. All were flowing with energy that was tumbling toward her.

The faery snickered. She tilted her head, studying the group and narrowing her large insect-like eyes. They filled Shade with dread. Her face morphed from angelic to a morbid malice. "You are pathetic. Forget me not. I won't soon forget you, either. Give me the Halfling girl, and the rest of you can go."

Shade's eyes widened as she stood up and stepped back. She froze mid-step, as she couldn't move and could barely breathe. A sticky, thick magic clung to her again, paralyzing her into place. Lady Blythe cackled wickedly above her and shook her head. "Yes, Shade, that means you. Either you stay or they die."

"But why? What did I do? I don't even know you. What do you want from me? I have no magic." Shade felt frozen. Her legs didn't work; nothing worked. She felt as if she were in suspended animation, trapped in the stillness, as one would be in ice.

"Your Majesty, Shade can't stay here. She was sent by Queen Zinara herself on a quest." Ewan spoke, not raising his head to the faery queen, as though doing so might offend her.

"Silence, giant. I don't need your blubbering statements. I know quite well what Queen Zinara means to do. I don't agree with her strange decisions, but I know this Halfling serves more than just one purpose." She gazed at Shade, her lips thin and tense. Shade felt light headed from the intensity of it.

_Trick her. Trick her into thinking you are only a mortal without powers. Trick her at her own game, Shade. Quickly!_ One inner voice yelled with urgency _._

Shade came back to herself, still frozen but more clear-headed. The warmth of her guides and their voices swam in her head, helping her breathe in her frozen body.

How do I trick her? She'd know if I'm lying. Don't they all? How?

_Offer her yourself fully,_ they suggested. _But trick her into giving you a riddle. We can answer any question. If you answer right, she must let you go._

Shade swallowed hard and peered up at the Dryad Queen, feeling her evil swirling around in the air.

"Lady Blythe, Your Majesty. Please, I'll come to you freely, but I was thinking. Don't you like riddles? You look like you might like them. How about a deal? If I answer it right, we _all_ go free with safe passage through your land. If not, I'm yours with no fight. At least we can make it fun, you know?" Shade chuckled nervously and gasped while the air felt tighter and thinner, as if she were drowning.

Lady Blythe glared at her, contemplating her words. She drilled her sharp eyes into Shade. Shade's offer had obviously caught her fancy. A moment later, a creepy, growing smile spread across her face.

"Why, how quaint. How did you know about my love of riddles? How delightful! Very well then, I accept." Lady Blythe paused for a moment, looking pensive and scratching her chin. Her eyes danced with excitement as she cleared her throat. "I have one for you." She jumped up and down as she filled with anticipation. "What can walk the earth at dawn, dances in the noon sun and then never again at dusk." Her wicked smile snarled at Shade.

What sort of riddle is that?

_A vampire,_ the voices offered.

_What?_ Shade hissed back in her mind at the voices _. A vampire? Really? This is ridiculous, I...._

Trust us, Shade, please.

"Okay. Uh, I know that one. It's a, uh, vampire. The answer is a vampire." Shade's breath whispered from her lips as the thick magic surrounding her squeezed the last bit out. The queen would have to let up on the air prison if she was to inhale once more. Nothing but silence came from the Dryad Queen. She'd fallen into anger, and her eyes flashed a luminous green fire. She was steaming and furious.

"How dare you trick me? You defiant fool! You're pathetic to think you've seen the last of me. I have to let you pass now, but make sure you stay out of my way. I cannot be tricked twice. We _shall_ meet again. I promise you that!"

Shade was hurled to the ground, coughing and gulping down precious air. Lady Blythe was gone as quickly as she had appeared. Nothing else was around, nothing but the dark woods.

"Is she gone?" Shade whispered. Her breath still hadn't caught up. "What did she want with me? And what the hell is she?" She brought her knees to her chest and sat rocking back and forth, willing her heart to stop racing and slowing her breath.

Jack knelt down, his hand giving her shoulder a firm squeeze. "Lady Blythe is who she said, Queen of the Dryads of the Haunted Forest. I really don't know what she wanted from you." He glanced up to where the dryad sat not a moment before. "It's quite strange. She disappeared decades ago and has not been seen until now. Queen Zinara assumed she was dead." He looked up at the surrounding warriors. No one seemed to have a clue as to what was going on.

"Unless the Unseelie have been working overtime and attempting to sabotage or stop us in our tracks. This feels like Unseelie treachery. How did you know, Shade?" He stood up, offering Shade his hand. She looked up at the handsome Teleen warrior, taking his hand as she pulled herself onto her shaky legs. Tears streaked down her face. The Dryad queen scared her more than she'd realized.

"Know what?"

Jack looked at her intently, searching her face for something not known to Shade.

"That she liked riddles. You saved yourself—and us—with such a quick wit."

"It wasn't me," Shade said, shaking her head. "My spirit guides are speaking to me, helping me. They gave me the idea and then told me the answer." She coughed again and breathed in deeply.

"Well, quite a handy trick there. I hope they come in handy more often than not. Shall we continue?" Shade nodded. "Everyone, make sure wards are up. We will not be caught so unaware again. Count us lucky she didn't have an appetite for meat today."

Shade's mouth dropped open at Jack. He glanced at her and smiled. "Just kidding. She's vegan."

Shade groaned and straightened up. Shaking her head, she fell in line with the warriors, eager to leave these woods behind her.

Chapter Six

THE TELEEN HILLS were like large swells of waves, flowing with the greenest of emerald grasses. The blades of grass rolled and swayed lightly, caressed by the wind. The air flew in constant rushes, whipping everyone's long tresses about them like tangled dancing ribbons. Shade's own wavy brown hair looked to be the shortest of the entourage's, except for Ewan's. All the women's hair seemed to be almost waist length, many with ornate braids, ties, or thin ropes wrapped through like extensions. Most of the colors were unnatural; nothing a human man or woman would ever possess naturally. Waves of golden brown, reds deep as rubies, blacks as dark as midnight, and browns like tiger's eyes flowed in the breezes. It was quite a dance of flashing colors.

Shade felt a twinge of jealousy. Nothing but human light brown hair danced on her head, nothing fey-like about it. It made her wonder what she had that resembled the fey at all. Maybe she had turned out to be more human than fey. Maybe they had the wrong girl after all. It could be she had no magic besides her spirit guides. She couldn't perform glamour or heal anything, let alone fight or enchant like the Dryad queen.

Shade shivered, recalling the queen's cold stare and the ice-cold prison of air which kept her tightly within its grasp. It made her want to faint from a lack of oxygen. It was not something she cared to remember.

Her legs burned with the constant strain of hiking up and down the hills. The hills appeared smooth with grass but were rocky and uneven. Her tennis shoes weren't made for such rigorous hiking. She paused, leaned over, and placed her hands on her knees. Her lungs ached with effort, and breathing felt like a burning torture. A faint metallic taste clung to her mouth as she coughed up spit. She was not a fan of the physically gifted. Her idea of a good time was curling up on her bed with a thick book. There was no way she would've voluntarily done anything that resembled hiking before this. Her idea of camping was a campsite where you could walk to your car and a public restroom. It was as close as she got to being outdoorsy.

This sucks.

"You all right?" Soap paused just ahead of her, craning his neck to see her face.

Shade's cheeks were pink with heat from the strain. She swallowed her blood-tainted saliva and nodded. _I can do this, no problem. Just breathe, Shade, breathe._ The problem was that she didn't quite believe herself _._ Turning toward Braelynn, who also had come to a stop by her, she attempted a weak smile for the sorceress when she gave Shade a gentle pat on the back.

"The trail will be hard, not just for you, but for all of us. In time, you'll grow accustomed to the rigorous terrain. Are you having trouble catching your breath? I have a potion you can take for that. It's kind of like asthma medicine. Most faeries don't have that kind of trouble, but I prepare treatments for all kinds of people." Shade grinned, feeling at ease with the kind warrior. "I knew it was a possibility with a human coming along. Let me know if you need it," Braelynn offered. She grinned back and moved to continue to trek in the direction of the others.

Shade sighed and closed her eyes. She knew Braelynn was being kind, but her words made her feel a twinge of inferiority, being human and all. She wondered how all of the fey felt about humans in general. Stereotyping was probably not just a human trait, and she wondered if the group thought she was weak. She hoped not.

She straightened up, took a deep breath in, and attempted the hill again. The afternoon sun burned down on her, and her hair felt afire. Peeking into her backpack, she remembered her baseball cap, which she'd stuffed into it earlier. It came to her fingers as quickly as she thought it. She was never going to get used to how cool that was. Shade zipped up her backpack and pulled the cap over the wavy strands that now fell away from her ponytail. She was glad she'd remembered to bring it; her head was thanking her for it.

Shade was about to ask someone if they were getting any closer to the mountain caves of the Teleen when she heard Ewan's booming voice echoing back to her.

"The mountains are about a mile away, not too far. We'll be eating dinner in no time." He chuckled back toward the group and patted his belly.

Ewan wasn't the only one thinking about food. Shade's stomach was protesting for the last hour. She had snacked on a granola bar, but it'd gone straight through her. She'd worked up an appetite for something a bit more substantial before her body began to turn on itself for dinner.

The last mile seemed to drag on more than the last five. Shade's back and shoulders ached from carrying the backpack. Although it wasn't too heavy, any kind of weight seemed to get old after carrying it for a while. She was not cut out for this hiking crap. Being sweaty, thirsty and, worst of all, having a thin layer of dirt that clung to everything and her skin made her cranky and exhausted. There were streaks across her face from the mixture of sweat and dirt. Her hair frizzed out from under her cap, and some of it was stuck to her moist neck, which was itching up a storm. She suspected she had a blister or two forming on her feet, and her knees felt like they were going to fall apart.

Gritting her teeth, she rounded one of the last hills and gasped. The mouth of a cave roared above them. It was pitch black and very wide. The dirt and grass continued into the cave until the blackness swallowed it up. The wind howled over the hole, wailing eerily. To Shade, it did not seem like anyone lived there. _This can't be it_.

The rest of the gang gathered around the entrance as Ewan held up his hands to the air and mumbled some words. Shade looked about, not seeing anyone else around them. The feeling of being watched returned with a vengeance. Her eyes moved up the cliffs that gave way to a jagged overhang. The rock formation was shaped like a half moon, and it wasn't just a simple hole or opening in the wall. The rocks were expansive, and they looked as if they may crumble onto anyone who dared to walk into the cave underneath it.

A shiver of glamour swept over her and all around the cave, like ripples in a pool of water. _Of course!_ The looming stones were a deterrent, like a spell of reluctance to whoever passed by, making them fear the large hanging rocks and stay clear of them. As Ewan spoke softly, the glamour melted away, revealing an enormous double door. The door had intricate carvings and was made of heavy wood that appeared old and weathered. Shade drew in her breath, amazed by how beautiful it was.

The wood blended into the shades of rock around it and seemed to fade into the background if she did not stare right at it. _Wow, what kind of people live here to make such a fascinating place?_ She watched as the group gathered around the great doorway while Ewan gave the enormous doors a good shove. They creaked loudly as they opened. The groan they emitted made it clear they were rarely used. He motioned for the group to follow him.

As they entered the archway, the darkness swallowed them. Soon after, flickering lights ignited from the torches that lined the walls. The doors slammed behind them with a thunderous clap. Everyone jumped, and some had even drawn their weapons while staring at the large doors. It seemed they had closed by themselves, because no one in the group had closed them. There was no one else in the room. _This is unsettling_. Shade turned back toward the darkness ahead. _Where is everyone?_ She followed her group while thinking this, wondering when the people who lived there would greet them.

They walked deeper into the dismal cave to where it led into a massive room. There were tall stone columns that reached high above them, made of the same grey-streaked white rock as the rest of cave. There appeared to be no one there, but to Shade's surprise, the torches around the room began to light up by themselves to brighten the space. Soon after, figures appeared out of the shadows, also holding torches. They materialized from the darkness in the blink of an eye. Each one of them was dressed in guard's uniforms, and they were engulfed in white and blue flames while electricity crackled along their skin. Shade thought of Jack and his powers. Surely, they must be Teleen.

The guards came to a stop in the middle of the room, completely surrounding them. Their eyes shone luminously, and their bodies rippled with the heat of their fire. They scared Shade, and she struggled to contain her shock. They were much more frightening than Jack had been, maybe because there were so many of them. She hoped they were not going to harm them. They made her hair stand on end as their magic and power buzzed across the room. It was like a swarm of bees or static tingling on her skin.

"Um, Ewan, are we in danger here?" Sary shouted to the giant, one hand on her bow and the other with an arrow ready to fly if needed.

He waved back at her, shaking his head but not responding. His other hand flew up, palm facing the guards as he spoke. "Guard of the Teleen, we're here under invitation of your queen. Our Queen, Zinara, has sent word of our arrival. Please stand down. I demand to speak with the Captain of the Guard."

The group tightened together as the guards' proximity grew closer. Everyone backed into each other as sword after sword was drawn and arrows nocked. Knives were also unsheathed and glinting. Everyone was ready, except Shade.

She was sweating and feeling her stomach knot into a tight cramp. She pulled one of her own knives out of her pack, shaking profusely as she gripped it. Once again, she realized her lack of training for a fight. She felt naked and exposed as she shrank into the circle of bodies around her and let them shield her from the guards.

The Captain of the Guard stepped up and pointed his sword to the ground. He glowed a brilliant white blue all over his exposed skin. The fire burned so brightly, it hurt Shade's eyes to look at him. He seemed to realize this and immediately weaved glamour over his lighted body, assuming a more human appearance. The tan skin over his large muscles still seemed to glow slightly as the fire receded. His eyes were a blue-green fire that slowly turned to steel grey and gleamed in the torchlight. He was extremely handsome and had his long, black hair pulled taut into a low ponytail. In awe of him, Shade sucked in her breath. His charm ended as he spoke and narrowed his eyes at them, smirking.

"So, this is Queen Zinara's last hope? Don't really look like much, do you?" He laughed, but it sounded full of spite more than anything.

"Dylan," Jack responded. "Good to see you again. It's been a long time."

The captain briefly scrutinized Jack but barely acknowledged him. "You were so easy to surround and entrap. I thought for sure that she'd have known better than to send such a weak force to do the job of soldiers. I'll never understand her ways." He walked around the group, eyeing them with disdain. Their weapons were drawn, but no one seemed to be holding them in readiness. Everyone was waiting. _Waiting for what_? Shade wished she knew.

Dylan came around to stand by Shade, having passed by the ring of warriors in the group as if they were not even there. He inspected Shade with an intensity that dug into her skin. He reached out to her to touch her cheek, but she stepped back, remembering what Jack had told her about touching a Teleen. He could electrocute her if he wanted to. She was not going take the chance to find out.

"Are you afraid of me?" Dylan sneered as his hand returned to his side. He seemed to be pondering a thought as his eyes pierced back at her. Shade made no further movements but avoided his glare. Leaning forward, he tilted his head slightly, whispering just loud enough for her to hear him, "You rightfully should be."

He gave his head the slightest of shakes and spun back around toward his guards. Signaling them to back off, he turned back to the travelers and addressed them all.

"I have announced you to our queen. She'll be most pleased to meet all of you, especially your precious halfling." He chuckled, sending a tingle across Shade's skin. He wasn't just Teleen. She was willing to bet he was something else, too. She was almost sure of it. Even so, she wasn't quite sure that he knew it. Jack couldn't do magic with his voice like this one could. Shade shivered from the after effects of his rippling laughter and close proximity. She ran her hands up and down her arms, trying to rub the feeling away with the warmth of friction. Shade wondered why she could sense that he was different. Maybe a power of hers was finally waking up.

After the captain signaled for them to leave, the guards departed, falling into step behind each other. No one was quite relaxed yet, remaining on alert. The group fell in behind the soldiers and followed. The hall seemed to stretch on forever, and Shade's stomach grumbled again, making her glad that all the noise of the footsteps absorbed the sound of it. She hoped they would find a nice banquet waiting for them. She could only hope for such a thing from what she'd seen so far.

The ground was also made of stone, smoothed down and worn from years of use. It was a darker grey, sandy in color with bits of red and yellow speckled throughout it. The entire hall was the same color. There were no decorations, and nothing but the burning torches to indicate that anyone even lived there. They reached the end of the great hall as it funneled into a smaller tunnel.

The torches continued along each side of the cave. The stone did not change much, and Shade could not find any doors, much less windows. Claustrophobia seemed to creep in as she tried to slow her breathing to remain calm. The air was cool and never seemed to change in temperature. The smell of earth, mold, and humid dirt grew stronger the deeper they went. Shade swore she could hear water echoing far away and vibrating against the walls. These tunnels probably ran so deep that you could pop out on the other side of the world. _Not really a comforting thought_.

The hallway finally opened up once again. To Shade's surprise, it wasn't to a lair or anything she expected. A huge underground crevice loomed beneath them, opening up into a dark void. They were standing on a ledge that led to a creaky old bridge. The roof of the cave loomed high above them with small streams of sunlight spiking through and piercing the rocks above.

_A bridge,_ Shade thought nervously. No way would she cross that. It was made of rope and wood, and it didn't look very sturdy. She sighed as she looked down over the ledge into a shadowy abyss. She could hear some water echoing and splashing down the sides of the ridge just to her right. There was probably an underground river down there, but it wasn't visible from this far up. The air was cooler and filled with light misty water sprays that she didn't find comforting. Shade was so engrossed in staring at the rickety bridge that she didn't realize the captain was now standing by her. He was watching her reaction intently with a slight smile playing on his lips. He seemed to be enjoying her horror at having to cross the creaky bridge.

"So what's so special about you? You look less than ordinary." Dylan regarded her, his breath pressing on her ear from his closeness. She turned and almost bumped noses with the captain. He didn't budge but seemed to lean closer, invading her space so much, Shade actually had to take a step back. He was still glamoured, and before she could complete her step, he gripped her arms to pull her back toward him. His fingers dug in with just enough pressure to hurt her skin. Shade's breath caught in her throat, and she was half-relieved he hadn't shed his glamour to shoot her up with electricity. She knew darn well he could at any time.

"Let go of me! What do you want?" She pulled, but his grip was firm. His breath was hot and sent shivers down her neck as he pulled her to him. His arms embraced her like a lover sweeping up his mistress. Her skin prickled as he let some static electricity seep around her, making her gasp with fear. She heard clinks of swords drawn behind her. He ignored it.

"You almost slipped off the edge." He gave her an amused grin. "Is this how you say 'Thank you,' _human_? I was just watching out for you. You don't have me fooled. I don't know what Queen Zinara really has planned, but the Teleen will not fall for her jests. She can fight her own fight. You are not true fey. You barely reek of fey blood. I have more magic in my finger than you possess in your entire body. I intend to find out what trick is behind this so-called quest that will supposedly save us all." With that, he let her go abruptly, making her lose her step as she stumbled to regain her balance. Soap caught her mid-stumble as Jack stood before the captain.

"That's enough, _Dylan_ ," Jack stated firmly as he put himself between the captain and Shade. "We have no quarrel. We are here under Teleen protection, and you act hostile toward your own guests. The Queen will not be pleased, knowing your hospitality was so lacking." His chest puffed out, and his head tilted down, clearly challenging Dylan.

Relieved that someone had come to her aid, she turned toward Soap, who was holding her tightly. Her nerves were shredded, and she was afraid her knees would crumble beneath her.

Dylan snickered and turned back to the bridge. Walking forward to the edge of the landing, he turned around and gave her a smirk. He was enjoying the growing terror on her face as he continued walking backward over the ledge.

Shade screamed but stopped suddenly, not believing her eyes. The captain continued walking backward as he floated on air and started laughing loudly while shaking his head. He then turned and continued while the rest of the guard also laughed, following behind him. They obviously got a kick out of watching their visitors panic when they learned about the invisible bridge. The entire guard walked across and did not fall into the ravine.

_They have an invisible bridge?_ Shade and the group followed, slowly sheathing their weapons. They stepped tentatively onto the bridge, which was seemingly made of air, still not convinced it was solid. Shade cautiously walked forward. It was like standing on glass, and she was surprised her legs didn't go through. Peering down, she could see the looming darkness below, swallowing up the rocks.

Shade took a deep breath and continued following the rest of the warriors, trying not to look down and through the glass bridge. The cool air wasn't comforting, for she didn't know where the sides of the glass bridge were or how narrow it could very well be. She made sure she didn't step anywhere the guards hadn't stepped already.

On the other side, they re-entered a cave, but this one branched into three tunnels. Everyone stayed to the left and continued down the dark corridor until they reached another large room. It was so brightly illuminated, as if the daylight sun was shining in, but Shade couldn't find any windows. However, she did see other Teleen, scores of them.

The guard had split up around the room and lined the walls in a single file. Great stone columns with veins of multi colored cracks laced with gold were at the room's edges. Large drapes of fabric spilled down the walls in colors of crimson and jade, bringing warmth to the cold, stone-lined walls. Everyone inside the room wore brightly colored clothing, the women with long flowing dresses. The men were more conservative with crisp tunics and pants made of either linen or leather.

The Teleen were all staring, as though they'd never been taught that it could be considered rude. Maybe it wasn't. It could be commonplace among the fey to stare. Whispers floated around the air as people commented on the new arrivals. Some reached out to touch them, pulling at their clothes in soft tugs of curiosity. Some of the women even blushed and giggled as Jack walked by them.

Some of the Teleen wore glamour, covering their electrifying blue-fire skins, looking ethereal with their translucent skin and large eyes. Some were glamoured to appear human but were far too beautiful to pass as them. Their noses were thin and straight, and they had large almond shaped eyes with perfect, luscious rose-colored lips. She wondered how much time they actually spent with humans outside this morbid place. Jack and Soap did a fine job on their own glamours. At least they could blend in. They had studied well.

There was a throne in the center of the far wall, and large grey, sleek and worn stone steps led to the massive dais. The queen's throne sat upon the great platform. It was also stone, but was lighter, harder and more intricately carved. It looked to be made out of marble, but Shade was no expert. Different colored veins ran through the stone, but they did not break up the smoothness of the carvings.

The Queen observed Shade with large obsidian eyes. They were very similar to Lady Blythe's luminous insect eyes, and she didn't glamour herself either. Her fiery blue skin glowed brightly and seemed to hum with the crackle of electricity or lightning. There were constant flames flowing over her body. Her hair also looked afire, but didn't burn. It was dark with a highlight of blue crackling through it.

_So that is what a full Teleen woman looks like unshielded?_ Shade thought. She'd noticed some of the guard and attendees were in full Teleen glow as well.

They reached the throne when Ewan knelt down before the blue lightning queen with his head bowed. Everyone followed suit as he spoke. "Your Majesty, Queen Gretel of the Teleen, we've come from the Guildrin clan in the city of Aturine, and greet you with open arms and love from our Queen Zinara. We were told of your great hospitality and ask of you permission to rest the night and continue our journey tomorrow."

The Queen glanced around at them, taking in what she saw. She nodded the slightest of nods and spoke with a voice that echoed off the walls and rippled through the air like a cool mountain breeze. "Please stand. I am aware of your coming from my sister Zinara. She has spoken well of all of you, and I find you most deserving of her praise.

"Please also forgive my Royal Guards. They find tormenting any visitors to be quite amusing. We don't get too many visitors here, as you can see. We're an isolated clan and the last of the Teleen bloodlines. I find it a great pleasure that I'm able to aid you on your quest to the Santiran fountains. Please, make yourselves comfortable and accept our great hospitality."

She waved her arm over the crowd as they stood and found that tables were set up in two rows, one on either side of them. One by one, tiny flying demi-fey servants came out and placed candelabras, bowls, goblets, and overflowing platters of food on the tables. They were dressed in great long robes of flowing linen that rustled around them in smooth waves. Fruits, meat, and rolls of soft bread filled the middle of the great tables. Shade felt her stomach rumble with hunger, and all of them were looking at each other with glee dancing on their faces.

They filed around a table and eagerly sat down at the end nearest the Queen. The Queen had a table set up right in front of her with anything she asked for. There were stone plates and wooden forks and knives already set up in front of each of them. The small faeries, which laid out the table and food, were now darting back and forth. They were so quick and efficient at their job; all that could be seen of them was a blur of wings and hands.

Shade watched them, fascinated by how tiny they were with their wings as thin as tissue. Still, they held the tiny stick-thin figures effectively in the air. The ones she was able to gaze upon longer showed her their tiny faces with perfect tiny lips and straight noses. Most had jet-black, body-length hair. Some tied their hair back, and some left it hovering around them like capes. Their large almond, insect-like eyes were black as night and blinked at her curiously. None of them smiled but just flitted by her, leaving a gust of cool air as they raced by.

Shade could feel the exhaustion seeping from her bones. The food was working on her already and helped fill the void in her stomach. Sleep was pulling at her eyes, and her body ached with every stretch and movement. She looked around at her friends, who also seemed tired as they quietly munched on the great feast. She had stuffed her belly full and felt a twinge of regret with the pain of her swollen stomach, making it hard to breathe.

Shade sat back in her chair and looked across the table. On the parallel stone table straight across from her was Captain Dylan. He stared at her and smiled. His face took on a softer look as he nodded to her with his cup held up in the air. He set it down and was interrupted by a guard to his left. Shade glanced at the man who was now leering at her as he spoke softly to the captain. He had a similar facial structure, but looked a bit younger than the captain.

Shade was betting they were related. She barely noticed they were both looking back at her now. The other guard's dark stare was just that much colder than Dylan's. She probably had stared too long and felt her cheeks flush, turning quickly away to hide behind her goblet of sweet punch. She pushed away her plate and glimpsed at her friends, praying they'd be heading to their rooms soon to sleep.

"Shade, are you done? We're headed to our chambers soon. Ready to go?" Braelynn asked as she gave her a flashing smile. Relieved, Shade nodded and stood, following them as they began to file out.

A dark-haired and pale-skinned Teleen woman stood in front and waited for them to gather around. She smiled broadly at someone and held her arms out. Shade craned her neck to see whom she was grinning at. Jack melted into the embrace, hugging the woman tightly. As he began pulling back, the woman hung on a little longer. It was just long enough to whisper something into Jack's ear. He then pulled back abruptly, frowned at her, shook his head, and answered her sternly but softly enough that no one else was privy to the conversation. Shade wondered who the woman was and how she knew Jack.

Jack turned back to the group, now composed, with a face of serenity. He cleared his throat and spoke loudly for all of them to hear. "Okay, guys, Sylphi here is going to join us and show us to our rooms. We'll be spread out some, for these are natural caves and are quite large. Don't go wandering either. These tunnels travel far, and it's easy to get lost. If you absolutely must, please only leave your room accompanied by someone else." He waved for them to come forward, and they all filed in by twos behind him and Sylphi. Sylphi kept trying to inch up near him, but he avoided her advances by stepping back and cramming in beside Shade and Braelynn.

"Shade, how are you finding the trek? Getting too tired?" He smiled down at her and completely ignored Sylphi's raging glare. The woman turned back toward a large tunnel they were all following. Joining her were Captain Dylan and his near-relative looking guard from the table.

"Um, it's ok. My muscles are killing me. I've never felt so sore in my life. I think I might have some blisters on my feet that are hurting something awful. I'm really not an outdoors type, so this is really a big push for me."

"Ah, you will need Sari's famous foot soak. That'll take care of anything on your feet for sure. I am sure she will have something for your muscle aches as well. This journey will take a toll on us all. I'll have her stop by your room after she gets settled," Jack said.

Sylphi was giggling and turned back toward them. "Shade, you might like Darren's famous massage. He'll definitely make you forget any pain you ever have felt. And more...." Her voice had a singsong way, but with a definite malicious tone to it. She playfully patted Darren's back.

"Thank you, Sylphi. I'll try to make myself useful for anyone who wishes." Darren, Captain Dylan's sidekick, snickered. Shade swallowed, thinking the massage somehow did not sound like something she'd need at all.

"That's enough from both of you. I'm sure they're much too tired from the long journey and just want to get some shuteye. Just show them their rooms already," Captain Dylan snapped. He grumbled under his breath and gave Shade a dark look. She wondered why he didn't like her. _He doesn't even know me. Why would he be so mean?_

_It's because the unknown is a thing to fear, Shade. Never forget that,_ the voices chimed in.

Shade sighed. She had to agree with them. She just wasn't so sure about the company here tonight. It was Darren in particular, who gave her the heebie-jeebies. He just seemed to radiate some kind of evil. She wasn't sure why he was chosen to be one of their escorts; it didn't seem very appropriate somehow. Shade glanced at Sylphi. _She's no better._

The dark-haired Sylphi was hanging off of Jack's arm now, whispering something into his ear. Shade wondered if those two had a thing for each other, or if it was one-sided. From the look on Jack's face, he did not seem to mind her hanging on him, but frowned every now and then at some of her comments and giggling.

She reminded Shade of the mean girls back at school, always finding a victim to torture amongst the high school kids. Sylphi was the kind of girl who would make snide comments to a good girl and send her to the bathroom with tears of humiliation streaming down her face. Shade narrowed her eyes and shook her head. Those kinds of girls thrive on others' suffering. _It'd probably be best to straight out avoid her,_ Shade thought. At least they were only here for a night and would not have to endure the Teleen's 'hospitality' too much longer.

"What are you thinking about, dear Shade? Have we offended you in some way? You're shaking your head with such disdain. Has your stay been so unpleasant so far?" Sylphi asked, suddenly at Shade's side. She slipped her hand around Shade's arms and bent closer to her. Her pale skin shone like moonlight, only with a slightly bluer tinge to the glamour she wore. The smell of roses and another fragrant scent surrounded her as she invaded Shade's personal space.

"Jack's mine, you know. I do hope you understand. That's if, of course, you were getting any ideas about him," Syphi whispered to her. "We're to be married soon. I know that, being a woman, you understand how rare it is to find such a wonderful, strong, and handsome man like Jack. Just letting you know how very much he has missed me. I feel so overjoyed to have him back. He stays away far too long. Oh, here we are now!"

She paused, smiling deeply for Shade. It was a smile that seemed to cut into Shade like a knife, full of things wickedly unsaid. "Your room, my dear. Do have a good rest. You'll need it!"

Shade scurried into the room and turned to see Darren leaning by the open door with arms crossed, smiling at her.

"Do let me know if you change your mind about the massage. I find you most fascinating, Shade. I've never met a human before. It's been quite a delight." He snickered, bowing as he left. Darren shut the door for her, and when it clicked, Shade ran to it and turned the lock as quickly as she could.

Leaning against the smooth wood, she finally let her breath out. Somehow, she did not feel right. Something about this place was setting alarms off in her head like crazy. She pulled her pack off and rubbed her shoulders, looking around the room for the first time.

The room was gorgeous. It was a cave, and it didn't have any windows. The air was cool with an undertone of dampness that left a bit of a chill. There was a nice large bed at the far wall, just opposite the door. It was piled with fluffy pillows and soft blankets and was neatly arranged to not seem messy, but comfy. There was a wooden table to one side of the room, long and polished smooth from use, that she placed her pack on. Above it was a silver mirror with a vine design frame that had crystals embedded all around the edges. It was breathtaking but seemed out of place in that room.

Shade stood there, staring at her reflection. She looked tired. A thin layer of dust seemed to stick to her skin and hair. That wasn't what stopped her though. The mirror looked like it had a tiny ripple in it. It was as though she was gazing at her reflection in a still pool of water. It looked smooth and almost see-through. She reached out her hand, letting her fingers almost caress the surface.

Suddenly, almost as if something had turned it off, the mirror was once again solid. Shade's fingers clinked against the hard glassy surface. It was nothing more than a plain mirror. Shade stared at it for a moment longer, shaking her head again. _Nothing is as it seems here_. She felt like Alice, deep down in the rabbit hole.

She let out a breath and turned toward a door in the wall of the cave that was next to the table. She turned the crystal and wood knob slowly, praying that nothing awful would jump out at her. It turned easily and opened into a well-lit bathroom. She laughed, relieved by the normalcy of it. _A bathroom_.... It was both modern and well-equipped, with a massive claw-foot tub on one side and a large shower. The shower itself had several showerheads installed, but no door, and a drain on the floor. She reached in, turned the curved silver knob on the wall, and watched with amazement as water fell like rain pouring out of the spouts. She beamed; the water was the perfect temperature. Soaps and a sponge were on a ledge near the end of the shower, wrapped in twine and topped with a bow. Shrugging off her clothes, she stepped under the pouring water. It felt amazing. The hot water ran down her skin and rinsed the day's soil away, swirling dirt down the drain.

Shade hadn't checked for towels before entering the shower, but a glance around the room revealed a neat stack of them set out on the counter. Turning the shower off, she stepped out and pulled one out of the stack, wrapping it snugly around her body. She didn't feel any cold since the steam and warmth of the water seemed to remain with her. She pulled another towel out to rub her hair, twisting it around her head to absorb the water. She'd left her bag with her clothes in the bedroom. Groaning, she hoped it wasn't too cold when she exited the warm cocoon of the misty bathroom.

The room was as she'd left it. Glancing toward the door, she listened for any movement or voices. The stone walls seemed to insulate the rooms very well, and she didn't hear anyone. _Natural soundproofing_ , she pondered, rummaging through her pack. She managed to find and pull out a deep blue nightgown with a pair of underwear. After quickly dressing, she noticed the cold air from the bedroom was starting to penetrate her skin.

Shade shivered and rubbed her arms. Her hair was still wet from the shower and felt cool on her shoulders. There was something else though, making her stop what she was doing as she felt goose bumps flare across her skin. She looked around the room and couldn't figure out why she was suddenly so cold. She heard what sounded like a whisper, but saw nothing. _Where had that voice come from_? She held her breath, listening hard for anything else.

Her eyes darted around as she waited. None of her spirit guides responded to her inner pleas, as if a mute button had been pushed. She didn't like it one bit. Something was very wrong. Shade grabbed one of her daggers from her pack and listened once more. Nothing jumped out at her, and there were no more whispers. Her heart raced and pounded in her ears. She held her breath, listening and frowning. It was probably nothing. Shaking off the crazy feelings, she tossed the dagger on the vanity table and walked to the bed. She slipped under the soft sheets and pulled one of the thick quilts on top of her. Looking around once more, she stared at the mirror one more time.

_Is it rippling again?_ She shivered and felt uneasy. _I need to rest. I'm just really tired and exhausted. That's why I'm starting to see things. Tomorrow will be here before I know it._ She then decided to reach for her pack and pulled out her cell phone. It still had a charge on it, but she doubted there would be an outlet here to top it off. It read 10:45pm. _Ugh, it's getting super late_ _!_

They planned to regroup for breakfast at six am and after that, continue on their journey. She pulled out her charger and glanced down the wall near the floor. The lamp plugged into the wall, so there had to be an open outlet just next to it. She couldn't believe her luck as she plugged her cell phone in. _Faeries with modern technology!_ She wondered if all the rooms were like this, or was she the only one with modern comforts in her room. For certain, there'd be iron in the conduits running through the stone walls.

Shade shrugged. She'd have to ask Jack about it later. The Teleen wouldn't be bothered by it, but what about her friends? It was something to ask about. The palace at Guildrin didn't have such amenities. The light came from torch and candle, and from some weird magical spell that illuminated the place as brightly as natural sunlight.

Shade lay back, sinking into the bed and sheets. She let the blankets envelope around her, embracing the body heat trapped in the soft sheets, which made the bed feel like heaven. Reaching over, she clicked the lamp back off, trying to avoid looking at the creepy mirror again and instead closed her eyes, letting herself slip away into sleep.

Chapter Seven

"SHADE."

The blue fire was glowing all around her, crackling and popping on all sides. The walls seemed too near, enveloping her like a cocoon. She stood up from the ground where she'd woken. Is this real? A dream? She didn't know. Feeling the walls with her hands, they felt hard and rough with cool stones. The sound of her own breath echoed around her, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, besides the fact that she had no idea what was going on. The fire came from the other side of the room. It stood like a pillar the size of a man. In fact, as she stared longer into the glowing flames, the image of a man surfaced in the fire. She gasped. The man's eyes remained closed, and his hands laid crossed over each other on the hilt of a gleaming sword. The blade also glowed with wisps of blue fire. Its hilt was made of dark red rubies, and the red flames spread from his hands onto the blade of his sword.

Shade walked toward him, asking him who he was. He didn't respond to her inquiries, no matter how much she pleaded. She kept going, and although her feet were bare, she did not feel cold as she thought she would. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached out to the man.

"Help me," Shade whispered to him, her voice faint and weak. Her fingers were almost touching the blue flame engulfing his body, even though she felt afraid. She didn't know if the flames would burn or scald her hands. Somehow, she needed to wake him and make him help her out of this place, this tomb. Taking in his face, she realized he looked a lot like Dylan, the way he'd look if he'd been resting and peaceful.

Suddenly, his eyes and mouth flew open, and a bright, white light poured out of them in piercing rays. A sound like loud ethereal music filled her ears to the point that it sent her to the floor, covering them. The music seemed to scream into her, filling her with prickling pain.

Then the words came, and they were excruciating:

"WAKE UP AND RUN, SHADE!"

****

SHADE'S EYES FLEW open as she gasped, thrashing in her bed. It was still very dark, and it took a moment or two for her eyes to focus and readjust.

_Am I alive or dead? Where am I_? She felt panicked and couldn't breathe, her chest arrested with a searing pain.

She reached over to the lamp, but without any light, she fumbled and sent the lamp smashing to the floor. The nightmare had left her with a dull, disorientating ache in her head. Just then, the room lit up around her like a blinding floodlight, making her pupils contract painfully.

She stopped fumbling and stared at the changed silver and crystal mirror. It was on fire, with blue flames dripping out like liquid molten rock. It crackled with white electricity and poured out of the rippling surface, down the table, and into the middle of the room. The pillar it formed shifted and morphed into a man.

Darren.

Run! Run now!

She screamed as the voices returned, panicked and jumbled in her mind. However, she soon realized no one could hear her through the solid rock walls. She pulled the blankets off, but never made it out of the bed before he jumped on her. He pushed her down and smacked her face. His cold laugh rang through her ears as he snarled down at her, watching her squirm and kick helplessly.

His eyes were facets of blue white light, blinding her even more as he pinned her under his legs and squeezed her arms so hard she felt them aching and burning in protest. There were surely bruises forming on skin. He smacked her again so hard that stars flared in a sea of darkness. She almost blacked out, fighting to stay awake and tasting the iron flavor of blood in her mouth. The left side of her face felt on fire.

When her vision cleared, she took in the horror of Darren completely engulfed in fire. His blue flames roared around them, but nothing burned, as though his fire was cool to the touch. To Shade's surprise, she wasn't burning under his grip, giving her a renewed urge to struggle. His grip kept her in place while the room spun. She wondered briefly if he'd given her a concussion or something. Her stomach lurched with nausea, threatening to spill her dinner.

Blinking, she tried to focus. "Darren, let me go!" She coughed up a mouthful of blood and spit at the faery.

He snarled at her. "You pathetic mortal, I forgot how much you bleed and injure so easily. No true fey would be so fragile. My apologies, of course. I do wonder, though, why you aren't burning up into crumbly ash. I always did like to watch mortals turn into dust while I burnt them. I'm just a little bit sick like that." He snickered and hopped off the bed, never letting his glare slip from her. "Show me what you've got, Shade. I want to know why you're so special. What's your secret? What is it that Jack won't tell me?" His face morphed from mocking to angry as his fire was flickered in and out. The fire flashed rapidly, making the room pulse like a bright strobe, serving to disorientate her even more.

Shade tried to stand by grabbing the nightstand and pulling herself upright. She could barely balance on her shaky legs, which didn't want to work at the moment. "There's nothing special about me, Darren. I'm just a halfling. I'd think you'd have heard that by now. Really, there's nothing else. I don't really have any magic. I'm still learning. I swear, I don't know anything else!"

She stood and stepped toward Darren, but fumbled, tripping on her sluggish limbs. He caught her as she slipped and spun her around to where they faced the fiery mirror, still aglow. She stared at their reflections as her mind scrambled to find a way out of his embrace.

Darren smiled coldly as he yanked on her hair with one of his hands. His other arm encircled her chest, holding her arms tightly to her sides. Squeezing her even more, he nuzzled her neck and whispered into her ear. "What do you see, Shade? Don't you like my fire? You see how insignificant you are? No human should be so special. I really don't get why they chose you. You're so fragile, weak, and pathetic. Why not choose a great faery warrior, like myself, for instance? You're a tarnish to our race, and I think I will be doing us a great favor by getting rid of you." His flames began to burn higher and licked the air around them, making it so his face no longer could be seen in the mirror.

Shade stared at her reflection. Her cheek had an angry red welt from his blows, and as the flames grew around her, she felt her panic rage. Soon, she began to see his face again as it grew more serious. He appeared deep in thought, pondering her reflection.

"Maybe we can have some fun first. You're not so ugly. What do you think about that, love? Don't you find me appealing?" He pulled her head back, making her gasp, her scalp stinging with pain. His nose grazed her cheek and earlobe, making her cringe at his touch. "This'll be fun, no?"

He will never touch me, never.

Shade attempted to pull her head away from his hot breath. He laughed again and let up on his hold so she could see their reflections again. "Do you like my mirror? I placed it here just for you, just so I could watch your every move. That's my magic. It's a special talent not a lot of Teleen possess, the gift of traveling through mirrors. I have the matching one in my room, so wherever I place this one, I can go, even into your locked chamber. What good did the locks do you now, Shade? No lock can keep me out. No door could close on me. It'll be our little secret." He laughed hard, his chest shaking behind her back.

He abruptly loosened his grip on her head for a moment, and Shade took advantage of his careless release. She shoved him back with her entire body weight, making him lose his balance for a moment, throwing him to the bed. She ran to the mirror and looked around for something to smash it. The dagger she'd left on the table gleamed as brightly as Darren's fire. She laced her fingers around the hilt, squeezing it hard until her knuckles turned white. She swung her arm and shoved her strength into it, ramming the metal into the mirror. The crash echoed in the cave as it smashed into a thousand glittering shards.

"No! How did you know...what have you done?" Darren had just reached her and grabbed her free arm, yanking at Shade. His momentum came to a sudden stop as he was instantly pulled into the glass, along with a flash of lightning. The last glint of it blinded her and plunged the room into darkness.

Her eyes focused on the dim glow of the dagger as its light grew a bit stronger in the black room. She stared at the mirror shards, scattered and shimmering all over the room. They didn't look unusual in any way; just plain mirror pieces glittering across the floor like diamonds. She limped toward the lamp on the floor, where it'd fallen earlier, jabbing her bare feet on the glass. Blood trailed her steps in smudges and drips from cuts stinging her flesh. Her legs, weak and shaky, began to drag under her. She fell to the floor by the bed and slipped into the developing darkness. The glow of her dagger faded into the dark, and the whole world with it.

Chapter Eight

"SHADE, CAN YOU hear me? Shade? Braelynn! She's rousing, not quite awake yet though. It's ok, Shade. You're going to be ok. You're safe now. No one will hurt you. Can you hear me, Shade?"

The voice sounded familiar, safe, and gentle. Shade wondered if her mother had come. Maybe this was the hospital. Maybe she was dreaming, or worse, dead. She couldn't open her eyes yet, but she could hear the commotion all around her. She tried to move, but her body did not respond.

"It's all right. You're still hurt, so don't try to move too much. We've healed most of your wounds, but you should still move slowly. Your head is still healing."

Shade opened her eyes a sliver. The room's light was blinding, and it stung her eyes. Blinking, she quickly reached up to cover them. A thousand prickling, sharp pains shot through her arm and down her side. She flinched and stopped moving, groaning as she sank back down onto the bed. Every movement resulted in pain screaming down her body. She felt like she'd been hit by a freight train.

"Shade, are you still feeling some pain?"

She managed a slight nod as she gasped for air.

"Take this liquid. It will make you feel better," Braelynn's soft voice echoed in her head. She felt the warm liquid touch her lips and slide into her mouth. It tasted sweet across her dry, parched tongue, like honey-sweetened tea. Letting it coat her mouth, she sighed with relief. A moment later, the sharp aches faded even more, making it easier to open her eyes to the dimly lit room. Somehow, it didn't seem so bright anymore. They must have dimmed the lights when they realized she couldn't see.

"What happened?" Her voice was a harsh whisper, for her throat felt rough and dry like sandpaper. The room came into focus, and she noticed not only Braelynn but also Sary standing near her. She slowly sat up as Braelynn slipped a few pillows behind her, propping her up. She glanced down at her arms, studying a scatter of healing, scabby slash wounds. Her left hand also had stitches across the palm and was in a good state of healing. Holding it up to her face, she studied it more closely. Most of the wounds were in the mid-stage of healing, as if she'd been hurt days ago and not hours.

"How long was I out of it?" Shade dreaded to hear the answer.

"You were attacked in your room about five days ago, Shade. You've been unconscious since then. You'll be fine. Your wounds are healing well. Braelynn was able to stop the bleeding inside your head, but it drained her so much, she was unable to heal all of your cuts completely. She was unable to wake you up, too, even though your head is fine now. It's almost like you were under some sort of spell."

Sary sat on the bed next to her. A sweet, concerned smile lit her face, crinkling her sparkling eyes as she patted Shade's arm. Her hair lay draped around her neck in soft waves of crimson fire.

"It was Darren. He attacked me. He came out of the mirror in the room!" Shade swallowed back her panic, feeling the events of that night rushing back. "Where is he? He was really going to hurt me. He wants me dead!" Tears stung behind her eyes, and for a moment, she wished to be back home with her mother. Her room seemed like a distant sanctuary in a forgotten dream. Sary hugged Shade tightly as her sobs overcame her.

"It's all right, Shade. I don't know how you did it, but somehow you trapped him in the mirror when you smashed it. He was incredibly angry and rendered quite harmless. He was released from the mirror prison by the Teleen warlock and placed into one of the cavern's confinement cells, where he has been ever since. We've waited for you to awaken. The Queen is most upset and anxious to seal his fate," Sary said with her eyes shining. They were lovely and burned like jewels on fire. She stood up, retrieved a cup from beside the bed, and handed it to Shade, encouraging her to drink it. "Drink, Shade. You must be very thirsty. We gave you fluids similar to those in an IV in the human world, but nothing refreshes like real fluid drank into your body."

Shade nodded and gripped the cup. The cool water felt amazing going down her throat. She immediately felt better, not as upset and instantly more awake. She finished the drink and handed the cup back. She was really starting to like faery food and drinks.

Glancing around the room, she was relieved it wasn't the same room she'd been attacked in. It was similar, but lighter in color and had no mirrors. She didn't think she could handle any more mirrors quite yet. Her backpack lay on a table by the door, and the sheets and blankets were all crisp and white. This was probably their version of a hospital room.

"What are they going to do to him?" Shade's voice seemed small, her eyes staring down into the floor while she thought about her attacker. Shivers crept across her body as the memory resurfaced. He'd stolen something with his brutality. She felt more vulnerable than ever and weak. How could anyone be cut out for this magical place? She'd have to start training right away if she was going to survive the rest of this journey. Two threats on her life in one day had been two she could have lived without. She had no idea what she'd gotten herself into and didn't like how it made her feel. Darren had taught her a harsh and vicious lesson.

"That will be up to Queen Gretel. I hear they take offenses quite seriously among the Teleen. He'll probably be expected to pay an equal price for your attack. Most attempted murders are punished harshly," Braelynn explained. "Even death is considered an adequate punishment if he was planning to kill you. This, I expect, is what he was out to do from the state of things in your room and the amount of injuries he caused you. He must pay for what he did to you, Shade." She looked seriously at Shade from the wicker chair near the end of the bed. Shade suspected that she'd sat there a great deal during Shade's period of unconsciousness.

"He said that he could travel through a matching pair of mirrors. He placed that mirror in my room to get to me. I even locked my door, but it didn't matter." Shade's voice quivered as she recalled his dark words. "He said he was going to kill me, and that I tarnished the faery races. I didn't do anything to him, and he hates me. Why?"

"That is the question, is it not, Shade?" Jack interrupted from the doorway. He took up most of the entrance with the bulk of his muscle-bound body. "During interrogations, he refused to speak of his reasons. He won't even say if he had any accomplices." He walked closer to the bed, his face weary and tired. "I have come to summon all of you—that is, if Shade can walk—to Darren's trial. The Queen has gotten word that you have awoken and is anxious to proceed. We need you there for Queen Gretel to issue his sentence. How well are you, Shade? Can you come?" He exhaled, rubbing his eyes as if he hadn't been sleeping well.

Shade looked at him, feeling almost petrified at the thought that more fey may be out to get her. Trying to shake off the feeling, she nodded. She was feeling a lot better now with the potion they'd given her. She shifted her legs out to the side of the bed and felt the cool stone under her scabbed feet. She paused, wondering if her legs would hold. She stood up slowly and found her legs sturdy and strong. Her smile stretched across her face. _That medicine is good stuff. I'm going to have to stock up on some for my whole clumsy family!_

She straightened, flattened the mess of her hair as best she could, and accepted Sary's support as the warrior princess jumped to offer a hand. Shade smiled at her, grateful for her encouragement. Sary returned it tentatively, and nodded in understanding as she slipped her arm under Shade's. Braelynn placed two soft leather slippers in front of Shade's feet. The leather was so smooth it was almost like silk against her skin. She shuffled forward and headed toward the door.

Jack took her free side, letting her hold his arm for support. They walked slowly down the hall to the great chamber, which glowed bright as daylight once more. For the first time, Shade peeked up at the roof and noticed how much it looked like a bluish-white sky at mid-noon. They were deep underground, and the sky stood there as natural as it was outside. She still couldn't make out the source.

Looking around them, she saw that everyone, including all of the Teleen clan, were there waiting for them. The room was crammed full of faery people, like on the night of their welcome feast. She wondered what'd been going on the days she'd been unconscious. How much wasted time has passed all because of what happened to her due to Darren's treachery?

Her friends ushered her up some steps, and Queen Gretel stood up from her throne as they approached. She glided toward Shade, stepping down slowly and bowing her head at her. Shade followed along, noticing how Sary and the others reciprocated the bow. Queen Gretel, who now wore human glamour that shielded her fire, reached out and held Shade's hands. Her pale, blue-tinged skin looked odd for a human, but sufficed enough to glamour her. She smiled warmly but spoke quickly and seriously. "Dear Shade, I am most pleased at your quick recovery. I apologize for my guard's indiscretion and most unfortunate actions. Please, come with me." She pulled Shade further up the steps to sit at a chair placed next to the massive stone throne. Shade complied, sitting down and turning toward the queen as she addressed the crowd standing before them.

"My people, Shade was attacked here in our own great cavernous dwelling. Our home has been the scene of bloodshed and pain. This is not allowed among the Teleen, and such brutality will come with a dear price. Accused for such crimes against our guest is Darren, one of our own Teleen guards. He stands now for his punishment."

Shade sat up straighter and sucked her breath in at the mention of the perpetrator. She'd been feeling much better. That is, until she spied Darren approaching. The crowd opened for a double line of guards who were escorting Darren through the room and toward the throne. His head was hanging down with his long, dark hair disheveled and riddled with tangles. He looked like he hadn't rested in days, and his wrists were bound with strips of thick leather. A guard held each of his arms firmly. Captain Dylan stood in front of them and bowed before the queen.

"My queen, Darren has confessed to his crime. What price shall our queen make him pay for his violations?" Dylan appeared strong and commanding, in full Teleen guard attire but without his helmet. He remained bowed and awaited her answer. Darren and his escorts mimicked his movements, though Darren appeared to be shoved into submission.

"Please stand, Captain Dylan, guards." Queen Gretel motioned. "I have come to the conclusion that only one punishment will suffice for such a deliberate and violent attack." She looked up and scanned the crowd. The silence was heavy and hung in the room like thick smog. Shade was sweating, and her heart raced with nauseating anxiety as she waited. She just wanted to have Darren gone, away from her sight, or to run from him as fast as she could. His presence was like a bad nightmare come to life, a suffocating presence.

"Darren must now pay tribute to Shade. A blood debt created demands payment. Only blood from death will be appropriate for such a crime." Gasps rippled through the mass, and whispers ignited like flames through the shocked crowd. There were even heads shaking while others began to holler out protests.

"My decision stands. As your Queen, my judgment is final. Silence!" The crowd hushed as quickly as it had erupted.

"My Queen," a voice interjected. The Teleen queen turned to look upon Captain Dylan, now kneeling before her, head bowed and stiff. "May I speak, Your Majesty?"

"Rise and speak, Captain Dylan. Your Queen has acknowledged you. Darren being your only brother, I am sure you have much to say." She held her hand out, as if to summon him to rise. Dylan rose slowly and stared back at the petite woman. His face was a well of stillness, eyes empty and blank with no feelings escaping from their pits.

"I beg thee to please reconsider. I ask you, my dear Queen, to spare the life of my only brother, Darren. I carry an oath to our long deceased mother to care for him in her absence. Please, consider an alternative price." Dylan bowed his head again and did not look back up. He seemed to be acknowledging the Queen's dominance over him and over all the people that called the caverns their home.

Shade blinked as she glanced between him, the Queen, and Darren. _Brother? So that's why there's such a resemblance. Darren is Dylan's brother! Of course,_ she thought, putting it all together.

Dylan seemed genuinely concerned, but his face remained hard. He did not seem like the snickering captain of the guard she'd met her first day at the Teleen caverns. He stood still and humbled before the Queen. She wondered if he was holding his breath while he waited for her answer. Why he would defend such a rotten man, even if he were his own flesh and blood, was beyond her.

"Dylan, my faithful captain, you have served me well for so many years. I'm afraid only a fair blood trade would suffice. Knowing your mother's wishes for you and your brother, I will consider this in my decision." She tilted her head and watched him, studying his stoic demeanor as if reading his innermost desires. "What if I amend my judgment, let's say, for an equal payment? Would you trade your life in your brother's place, then? I will only amend the death price if you trade your blood and services for your brother's life."

Captain Dylan looked up at that remark. His eyes widened in surprise and seemed utterly tortured. He studied the Queen in confusion. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but what sort of blood price trade do you mean?"

The Queen smiled, glancing at Shade before speaking again. "I require that you say yes before I explain. Will you trade your life for your brother's? I promise this will not mean a death sentence on your part if you do so. Your brother will be freed, but only if you agree to the terms in full."

Dylan stared intensely at the Queen for what seemed like an eternity. Letting his eyes drop to the floor, he let out a defeated sigh. Shade watched him gulp and think hard on the Queen's words. He nodded to himself, blinking back up toward her. He visibly straightened, regaining composure once more. "Yes, My Queen. In place of my brother, I will assume punishment for crimes he has incurred, short of death." He dropped his gaze again, hiding his face as it flushed with a scarlet heat. He was probably not too happy about having to learn his fate after he swore to trade places with Darren.

In eager anticipation, Shade glanced between him and the Queen.

"Well then, Dylan, I am glad to hear that an honorable man such as yourself would assume a lesser man's punishment. He's undeserving of such a thing, even if he is your brother. So, in consideration of your own innocence, I hereby proclaim that your blood payment will be a blood bind to Shade. You are to protect, follow, and serve her until the blood price is paid in full. Release from it will only come when the land of Faerie deems it fulfilled. Any failure to do these things will revoke the trade, and the original judgment on Darren of death will stand."

Shade shook her head, shocked at what the Queen had just done. "No, please, Your Majesty. I don't need a servant or a guard. I have an entourage already. My friends will guard me. He didn't do anything! I can't do this. Please release him! It was Darren who did it." She looked up at the Queen and knew immediately that protesting wasn't going to do any good.

"Shade, he cannot reject this punishment. To do so is to bestow death upon his brother. You must accept this, or you condemn Darren to death. Only time will tell when Dylan will be deemed worthy to be released from the blood bond. For now, please come here and give me your hand." The Queen's still face gave nothing away. Defeat hung in Shade's shoulders as she complied, giving her left hand to the petite woman. "I must bind you to make this trade complete. It is the way of the Teleen. Dylan will serve you faithfully, protect you, and keep you safe. He cannot betray you or cause you any harm, for if he does, he will break his oath, and death will consume his brother immediately. Don't be afraid. Come." She slipped her hand into Shade's, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Shade held her breath. She was trembling so hard that it shook her entire body, leaving her unsure if she could stay standing for much longer. Fainting would be a very bad thing right now.

"Dylan, come here and give me your hand, too."

The captain stepped up to stand across from Shade, holding out his hand without further argument. The Queen held out a small, sharp knife, its hilt gleaming with blood red rubies. Shade felt its magic rush over her in a ripple of warm energy. It was an oath maker, the Queen explained, made especially for blood bonds.

She took Shade's hand, palm up, and pressed the knife softly into it, dragging the blade across her palm. Soon, deep red blood seeped from the wound and trickled down her wrist. The Queen repeated the process again on Shade's other palm. Amazingly, the cuts didn't hurt at all. For all she knew, the knife's magic took the pain away. The Queen turned and did the same to Dylan. She then took both their hands and clasped them together.

Shade looked up at Dylan as their warm, thick blood mingled. She could feel his fiery aura spilling onto hers, but it did not burn. It made her feel powerful as Dylan's aura licked the edges of her own, revealing sides of him he'd kept hidden, making Dylan's grip tighten. She felt his strength and magic, but did not feel threatened. Looking into his grey steel orbs, she noticed how they'd somehow gone dull and blank. A touch of contempt seeped from them as he bore his eyes into her. If he felt anything more, he did not show it.

His features hardened, like a statue. None of his feelings bled through as his magic slipped away from her once more as he regained his full control over it. His aura turned solid and hard like a shield once he'd accepted his fate coldly, and she could no longer feel his emotions.

"It is done then. You may let go. Captain Dylan of the Teleen, you will forfeit your position and assume your place in Shade's entourage until the land of Faerie decides that you have fulfilled your oath."

Their hands dropped down to their sides. Dylan turned and walked back down toward Darren, stopping about a foot away. He turned his head and glared at his younger brother, who looked a lot like him. Dylan's cold eyes narrowed and burned with a tinge of hate. He reached out and cut the binds on his brother's wrists with a rough, uncaring jerk.

"Darren, this is the last time I ever save you. You're on your own now, for we're no longer brothers." He turned once more and disappeared into the thick murmuring crowd. Many gasps sounded out at his declaration. The ultimatum was unexpected and stunned Darren. He stood still, tilting his head down to avoid the looks from the crowd. His eyes squeezed shut as some tears formed in his lids. He whirled around suddenly and pushed his way across the crowd, shoving anyone who got in his way. Both men were gone in a matter of seconds, leaving Shade frozen beside the Queen.

Shade glanced down at her bloody palm. The cut had knitted itself closed and was now healed, leaving a light, pink-colored scar that was thin and tight. Finding her group awaiting her, Shade found Soap holding out a hand for her. Taking it, she felt relieved to see his smiling face as he helped her down from the dais. She joined her entourage and shuffled out of the grand room. She could finally breathe, even if it was just for a moment.

Chapter Nine

THE GROUP HUDDLED together near the glass bridge, silent and solemn. Their backpacks laid strewn about, reminding Shade of a summer camp she'd visited in the thick forests of California. People were still skittering about, stuffing packs with rations and supplies.

Shade sat on the ground with her own backpack already stuffed, since she'd never really had a chance to unpack before the attack. It sat balanced between her crisscrossed legs, ready to go. She held onto it as a child would a precious stuffed animal or blanket for comfort. It felt like the only thing in the world that really did belong to her. They'd risen early the day after the trial to reassemble and continue on the rest of the journey. Shade felt almost fully healed, but her spirits remained dampened. Her head ached with everything that had happened to her. Taking comfort in her solitary spot, she watched the others frantically rushing around. At least Sary retrieved her clothes, cell phone, and charger from her old room. Shade had refused to enter it ever again. Her phone sat fully charged and put away, for there was no signal penetrating the deep stone cavern.

Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back into two thick, tight braids, making her look even younger than her seventeen years. She'd let Braelynn fuss over her this morning, even though she'd already pulled it back into a sloppy ponytail. The tight braids Braelynn had woven her hair into were intricate but restrictive. However, she could deal with it since it made Braelynn feel so useful and motherly.

Soap came by and lingered before her. His tall figure seemed gigantic while she sat scrunched on the ground. His hair was also tied back, but lay in a simple half braid, with leather and beads streaming through it and shimmering under the torchlight. He was looking at her with his bright eyes, so deep in color in the dim light that they seemed to glow with their own light. "Hiya there, kid. You feelin' all right?" His voice twanged with a made-up southern drawl. He winked and tipped an imaginary hat to her.

She smiled up at him and nodded, not feeling quite as gloomy as before. He was definitely in a joking mood. "I'm okay, maybe just a bit tired. I'm not sleeping so well since...." She laid her chin on her pack as she pulled it tighter against herself and closed her eyes.

Soap sat beside her on the ground and sighed as he watched the rest of the group tidying up. He turned toward her with his smile gone and his eyes immensely serious. "Are you having nightmares?"

She nodded and breathed in slowly. She closed her eyes, still leaning her head on her pack and arms. Sleep was definitely lacking, severely affected by her anxiety and paranoia throughout the night. Every creak, every rustle made her eyes fling open and her heart jump from her chest. She resorted to sitting up in bed with a dagger in hand, just in case.

Shade wondered if she'd ever feel safe going to bed again.

"Well, let Braelynn and Sary know. I'm sure one of them can whip you up a dreamless sleep potion. It might help for the first few weeks. We're leaving in five minutes. Did you eat anything this morning?"

"Yes, I ate some toast and fruit. I wasn't too hungry, though." Opening her eyes, she sat up as she saw Dylan enter the area. His captain's uniform was gone, replaced with different leather and metal armor. It was probably his traveling armor. His helmet was also gone, but his sword was still strapped to his back. His brown tunic was soft under the leather and lacked any kind of ornamentation at all. Wrist sheaths were strapped securely on his upper arms, and as he moved, they flashed slightly, revealing silver knives. He also had a sheath strapped to each thigh, and his belt had pouches with more weapons laced throughout. He was well armed and carried a small pack strapped to his back. The long locks of hair he'd previously possessed were now cut to a normal length for a human male. Shade wondered why he was sporting the short style, especially when he was the only faery man she'd met so far who didn't have long hair.

"I guess this means he's joining us now," Shade said with her voice lowered. "Soap, why did he chop his hair off? It was so long. Did he have to cut it for the journey?"

Soap shook his head and leaned in toward her, his voice just above a whisper.

"No, Shade. The fey do it as a sign of mourning. He's probably in mourning for his brother, treating it like a death. It may also be because it's a sort of enslavement that he has to be with us. He might just be mourning his freedom and former life. Your guess is as good as mine." He jumped up to stand so fast, he appeared to have just floated up. He held out a hand to Shade again, smiling. "May I have this dance, oh ye fair maiden?"

"You know what? You're such a dork." She took his hand but gave him a playful whack when he started to dance, swinging her around in a circle. "Stop it already!" Shade smiled again, feeling him radiate calming warmth, too. Somehow, she just knew it was for her benefit that the fey did that. What they gave off in their magic was like happy juice to a moody teenager. It made her feel safe at least, and that's what she wanted most of all right now.

Dylan was watching them from across the way. His empty, blank stare made Shade shiver as her happy mood faded with his icy look. She couldn't blame him for being mad, but it really wasn't her fault he was stuck guarding her. He was going to have to just deal with it.

He started walking toward her and Soap. Holding her breath, Shade hoped he wasn't going to be a pain. Dylan stopped right in front of her, causing her to take a step back as he invaded her space. He seemed to know that it made her nervous to stand near any of the Teleen, even if they were shielded with glamour.

"Dylan of the Teleen clan reporting for duty, Miss Shade. What will you have of me today?" He stood still, so close to her she could feel his warm breath across her cheek. His steel eyes were smoldering. She was not sure if it was just his eyes or if she saw a twinge of hatred swimming in them.

"Nothing, Dylan, I...." She let her words trail off and shook her head. It took a moment or two for what she wanted to say to come out right. Straightening, she decided to go ahead and glare right back at him. "I'm not your master, boss or whatever. I didn't want this, so go do what you want, okay? I really don't care." Shade took another step back to dodge around him but stopped herself. "If it's any consolation, this was not my idea. Darren should've manned up and taken his punishment, though I do think death is an easy way out. If there's anything I can do to help you unbind us, you just go right ahead and let me know." He remained glaring at the ground with his jaw set hard. She sighed when he gave her nothing but silence as she swung her pack onto her back and walked away.

Jack motioned her over, as well as all the others. Everyone quickly finished their packing and circled around him. "Okay, everyone, we are way behind schedule. Today we anticipate to at least make it to the river lands. We will be near a large iron city, so once we approach, we must be very careful. We should stay near the rivers and be out of sight. If we are spotted, we might have to do memory charms on any humans that may be nearby. I would like to avoid that. You know how much fun that is," he said sarcastically.

"Oh, and we have two newcomers on our quest. Everyone welcome Dylan, former captain of the Teleen." His arm swung out toward Dylan, who stood just outside the circle, his arms crossed and his gaze at the ground. "Also, Miss Sylphi of the Teleen has so graciously volunteered to serve as a tracker. When our supply runs low, she can help us track down food around the Santiran fountains, where there are no cities for miles. Please welcome them both with open arms."

He held his arm out to Sylphi, who came over and gave him an aggressive hug, clearly invading his space. He stumbled back a bit as he shifted his weight, but he did avoid losing his balance. She laughed and smiled, as though it was nothing to volunteer on a treacherous mission.

Shade glared at her. She hadn't forgotten how friendly she'd been with Darren the night of the attack. Sylphi caught her glare and smiled sweetly to her, ignoring the look on Shade's face. _I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her boney, pointy body,_ she thought.

"Everyone should be ready by now. Let's go!" Ewan's voice boomed in the cavern, echoing down the ravine. The group all swung packs onto their backs and sheathed the weapons they'd been cleaning. In about a minute, they were all crossing the great glass bridge. Shade held her breath as she walked across. Unfortunately, looking down made her stomach ache, so she avoided it at all costs. She'd be happy never to cross this blasted bridge again.

They journeyed through the same tunnels and large rooms they first passed on the way in. Shade felt relief wash over her as she caught sight of the great doors. They creaked open, and a stream of early morning sun beamed in and grew wider to meet them. Shade increased her pace and laughed when she felt the rush of the cool spring morning air. The sun was warm on her face, and the tension she'd been feeling seemed to be easing. Somehow, she knew she was not going to miss the Teleen Caverns.

Chapter Ten

THEY TRAVELED UP and around the base of one of the mountains, which were at the top of the caverns they called home for a few days. The trail winded around lazily through a canyon made from a dry, dead river. The path was packed with flakey clay that crunched underfoot as they traversed through it. Rocks smoothed over by centuries of water littered the ground in different sizes. There were signs of drought as they walked along the riverbed. They spied dead bushes and wilted desert sage still holding on, though barely. The occasional scent of sage bushes and wildflowers permeated the air, but so did the slight odor of old, rotted vegetation mixed with dirt.

The sand got into everything, clinging to Shade's pants, shoes and gritting against her skin inside her sneakers and socks. She stopped to empty the dust and gravel out of her shoes quite often. Most times, she'd sit on the smooth boulders that were scattered along the path. The advantage of the canyon was that there were many shady areas blocking off the blaring sun and heat that intensified as the day wore on. The occasional desert lizard or jackrabbit darted across their paths. They shimmied their bodies into the cracks of earth beneath the stones or bushes. How could anything survive out there? It was mind-boggling. Water was scarce, and Shade was grateful she had some to enjoy.

The group stopped for a rest under a large overhang of striped red, white, and orange stone. It hovered over them like a massive giant, threatening to fall at any moment. Ewan assured her it would not fall because it was well-anchored and more under the ground than above. Shade sat at the edge of its shadow. She wanted to be ready in case she had to bolt to avoid being crushed alive.

She opened her pack and pulled out her canteen. She drank quickly, and the cool water felt refreshing as it tumbled down her throat. She'd have to thank Jack for the canteen. It refilled itself with the magical water and never ran dry.

Pulling out a bag of rations, she began munching on the nuts, dried jerky, and flat bread. She immediately felt more alert and less tired. Glancing around, she noticed how the desert seemed to be transitioning into a more grassy and bushy area. Off in the distance, greenery weaved itself into the barren desert. It grew thicker and thicker the farther her eyes scanned. Great pines and coniferous trees shone small but bright in color, speckling the mountainsides. She wondered if they would be heading into that forest before nightfall.

Dylan parked himself at the edge of the shadows, too, but not close enough to be considered sitting with her. He had his head down, also stuffing bits of food into his mouth. He never spoke with anyone in the group. If he was angry or sad, it did not show. His antisocial behavior made her wonder what he was thinking.

It was tempting to inch closer to him and try to pry some information out of him. He didn't seem hostile, but he wasn't exactly welcoming either.

Sary, Braelynn, and Stephen were sitting together and chatting loudly. They were in good spirits and enjoying the outdoors. It seemed as if they felt suffocated underground, too. They told Shade that they drew their powers from the Earth and the elements. Outdoors, the sun, nature, and life replenished their strength, what stone could not do alone. The other men were sitting near each other, remaining somewhat quiet as they chomped on their rations. They chatted amongst themselves occasionally, laughing and nodding with full mouths. Their manners were a bit atrocious, and it made Shade giggle to herself. She was enjoying their company, and they were beginning to feel like a surrogate family.

Speaking of family, Shade's thoughts wandered to her mother and siblings. What were they doing right now? Had they forgotten her? She wondered how strong the memory charm was Ilarial used on her family. A sinking feeling in her stomach made tears sting her eyes. _It's going to be okay,_ she told herself. Remembering the times they had all gone camping when she was younger and her father was still alive made her smile and savor the memories.

Camping was a constant distraction from the everyday problems her family faced. She would share her tent with her younger sister, Anna, who was three years younger and, most of the time, quite a pest. She enjoyed following Shade around like a puppy, which annoyed Shade to no end. Anna would butt into Shade's stuff or activities all the time, messing with her Barbie dolls, kicking her arrangements over, or even resorting to just stealing her toys or accessories. Shade hated it at the time, but now she'd give anything to have Anna bugging the crap out of her. Maybe she'd be sitting with her, sharing food and drawing in the fine sand with a twig. Anna did have a great big imagination. She'd tell Shade the longest stories about her day at school or simply made some up. It always took hours to tell it just right. She'd love to hear an Anna story right now.

Taking a bite of jerky, she tried to distract her thoughts by concentrating on chewing the tough meat. It was suddenly lonely, though she knew her new friends would not let anything happen to her. She still longed to hear from her best friend Brisa, who could be counted on for a quick joke when things were bad. She pulled her cell phone out of her pack and stared at the reception bars. For one reason or another, they were nonexistent, even out here, above ground.

Tears broke through the tension on her lids and slid warmly down her cheeks as she stuffed the phone back into the pack. Pulling her knees up to her chin, she nuzzled into them, hiding her face.

_This will not last forever, and soon I'll be home._ She sniffled and pulled a soft washcloth from her pack, wiping her face and clearing her drippy nose, exhaling as she stuffed the cloth back into the pack. Jumping with a start, she realized Dylan now crouched down next to her and was staring with his intense, steel-grey eyes. His face was alert and observing, as if waiting for some sort of word from her.

"What?" Her voice came out sharper than she'd meant it to, but she did not like him interrupting her melancholy memories.

"You're in distress."

She fought the urge to be a smart ass. "Really, you think so?" Shade snapped.

He smirked, settling down next to her, not waiting for an invitation. "Don't get angry. I only meant to help. I am bound with blood to serve you, aren't I? Well, if you're in distress, I can feel it now, and I have to try to fix it. I'm compelled to. It's part of the magic." Avoiding her glare, he studied the dirt with increased interest.

Shade gawked at him. His face froze as he retreated into his own memories while his hand sifted through the fine sand. Then he became so still, she could not see him even breathing. She waved her hand in front of his face, and he jerked out of his trance, shifting his eyes back to her. "Are _you_ all right?" She asked.

"What do you care?" He asked coldly.

Shade pulled her gaze away first and back to the ground, smearing her tears away with the back of her hand. His words stung and put an ache in her chest. "I just thought that maybe, um, well I...oh, never mind." She pressed her lips together, shaking her head. It was useless to talk to Dylan; the walls he built around himself were too thick. She could almost feel them pressing up against her, palpable and frigid.

"Why don't you just go away?" Shade hissed at him, irritated. She began scooting away when he grabbed the sleeve of her hoodie. Looking up, she expected an angry glare but found an ocean of pain floating behind his eyes.

His mouth tensed with unexpected emotions, making her consider the seriousness of the situation. "I would, but I can't. Like a cord between us, it binds me to you. Where you go, I must then follow. If you go too far, I am compelled to search for you until I find you. If I try to run, I would freeze in my own steps and be made to turn back. I'm anything but free. I'm your slave. I intend to see this to its finality and end it." He snickered then and let her go. "'til death do us part, Shade." He ripped off a bite of his jerky and chewed without looking back at her.

Shade didn't try to leave again. A tight knot formed in her stomach, making her want to throw up what little she'd eaten. Nothing about this seemed right. She could feel the ties pressing down on Dylan. She didn't even like him and didn't believe he liked her either, for that matter. It was like having to choose the kid that no one ever picks for your team in gym class. You didn't want to do it, but you had to and it sucked.

"Alright, everyone, let's get going again. We have to make it to the Emerald Forest of the River Lands before nightfall. That's where we will stop for the night." Ewan motioned the group to follow as everyone jumped to their feet. Packs were slung back on and weapons were put away.

Shade followed suit, watching as Dylan re-strapped his sword sheath over his thin armor. He stretched his arms and legs as he stood, displaying well defined muscles that rippled in his arms. His golden-brown tan meant he'd seen some sun, unlike the pale Teleen in the caverns. She wondered if the Teleen guards were the only ones that spent any time outside the caverns. Their Queen was so chalky-pale, Shade doubted she ever ventured out.

She had unanswered questions about the Teleen and wondered whom she could ask for answers. Glancing at Dylan, she pondered asking him but quickly decided against it. Dylan would be her last resort.

She jogged up to Sary, falling into step beside her. Stephen moved to the side when he spotted her, giving her a curt nod as she passed. He and Sary were always glued to each other's side. Shade flushed at the thought of them as lovers. Of the entire group, these two were the most inseparable.

"Hi, Shade! Everything all right?" Sary's sweet voice flowed from her cherry red lips. She was quite pretty, beautiful actually. It was no wonder she was royalty. Why she'd be out here in the middle of who knew where, getting all dirty, grimy, and really sweaty, Shade would never know.

"Um, I was wondering about something."

"What are you wondering about?"

"Why I didn't get burned when Darren touched me. I wasn't electrocuted or burned. Jack told me I would be. Darren wasn't in glamour at all, and Jack and Soap said that if you touch a Teleen when they're not glamoured, you could get electrocuted or burned. Darren did seem surprised that I hadn't. He became frustrated when he realized that, but then I think he found it fascinating and intriguing." She heard her voice quiver as a lump began forming in her throat. She could see everything so clearly in her mind, as if it was happening all over again.

Sary's eyebrows furrowed as she thought about Shade's question. "Oh, Shade, I know it's hard for you to talk about that night. Honestly, I don't know the answer. You might want to ask Jack about it. He might know of some instances or possible reasons why Darren could not harm you. Somehow, I think one of your powers is some sort of protection from the fire and lightning of the Teleen fey. I find it quite interesting."

Shade nodded and thanked Sary for her thoughts. Jack would be the one to ask about this. She'd meant to chat with him about the effects of Teleen powers on her for some time.

"Jack! Wait up!" They were on a hill, and the rocks stood jagged on the trail. She slowed her pace to maneuver around the razor edges of stone until she was right behind him.

"Hey there, what can I do for you?" Jack's cheerful mood was infectious.

She matched his pace but could not walk beside him with the trail narrowing and twisting around the large, rough boulders. Keeping an eye on the shifting dirt underneath, she continued, "I've been meaning to ask you some things."

"Go for it." He pulled himself up a steep part of the trail and turned to help Shade over the hump.

"Thanks. I was wondering, when Darren attacked me, he let his glamour fall away as he touched me, so why didn't I burn or get electrocuted like you said I would?"

Jack stopped cold and turned toward her. Horror flashed across his face, his eyes growing dark with shock. "What? Are you sure he let his glamour slide? No, it would have killed you. There's no way you would've survived." He narrowed his eyes at her, studying her face for something unknown to her. "Are you sure you're remembering right? You don't think that when you hit your head, you might've thought he let his shields down?"

Shade shook her head. There was no way she was remembering wrong. "No, I know what I saw. He let his glamour melt away as he held onto me, while he was on fire. His skin burned with bright blue flames that lit the entire room, flowing over his skin, like sparking electricity. I remember it as clearly as I see you now."

"I know what you're saying, Shade. I'm not doubting you, but it's just that it's not possible. I don't know what to tell you. I've never heard of anyone, especially a Halfling, surviving a full-blown Teleen touch. That's exactly why our race is dying." He grunted, half sliding down a boulder.

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." He wiped the sweat on his brow, taking in a deep breath as he rested. "We...we can't breed outside our own race. It would be fatal to get close enough to anyone other than a Teleen." Jack pressed his lips into a thin, hard line as he started walking again. His face remained pensive.

"But Jack, isn't Soap a Teleen halfling? You're saying it's not possible, but he's evidence against that, isn't he?" Shade hurried to keep up with Jack, for his step quickened.

Soap, who'd been walking ahead of them, paused and followed them with great interest.

"Soap is also part changeling. Changelings can 'change' into a Teleen if they want to. I think that's one of only a few ways pairing outside our race could be possible. Changelings are all but extinct, though. We don't even know who his parents were. To find a changeling to mate with would be like hitting the lottery for a Teleen-born. It just doesn't happen. The chances are so slim. Only those with fire affinities could ever pair with one of us. Wait, maybe...." He stopped again and was really staring at her now. Shade stopped too, suddenly feeling the weight of his stare, like she was under a microscope. "You're not a changeling, Shade. Are you?"

"No, well, not that I know of," Shade stammered.

"Have any fire magic?"

"No, sorry. I can't change into anything, or start any kind of fire. I'd think I would know if I could." Her voice cracked, leaving her suddenly unsure about anything. She was part faery, but she didn't know what type of faery.

_Me, a changeling? That's highly doubtful_ , Shade thought. It was already unnerving to think she was anything more than human.

Jack shook his head before looking at her again. His friendly smile was beginning to light up his face once more. "Nah, I don't think you're a changeling, Shade. I know all this sounds really strange, and I wish I could help you more, but I've never come across something like this before. If I ever find out anything about it, you'll be the first to know, okay?"

Shade nodded as he patted her back and turned to walk down another narrow and rocky hill. Shade sighed. She wasn't sure if she knew anything more than she had before.

Chapter Eleven

SHADE SAT ON a large, smooth rock near her tent, proud that she erected it all by herself. The cool breeze rippled the nylon violently, but it held. She staked it down well, just like her father had shown her. She had lots of practice staking down tents for herself and her sister. Every time they went camping, she was in charge of tent setup. Remembering how much she loathed it made her chuckle. She thanked her lucky stars that her father had pounded the basics of camping and surviving in the wild into her, just in case. She doubted he had ever considered how useful the knowledge would be on a perilous faery journey.

Dinner was cooking atop a blazing fire. There was a fox roasting over it, which Than had skinned, gutted, and staked to a spit. It turned round and round over the flames, giving off a pleasant but smoky aroma. It looked like he'd done this many times before. The fox was a good size, nice and plump, and would feed them all. She wished she could take a shower, but that wasn't going to happen out here. Once again, she was covered in dirt, and a film of her salty sweat stuck to her skin. She was sure it would never come off.

The air was cooling rapidly as the sun sank over the mountains. Shivering, she rubbed her arms to warm them. She'd traded her hoodie for a jacket but wished she'd brought a thicker one. She felt somewhat unprepared for the cold nights, even after layering her clothes and wearing a thicker sweater. Unfortunately, the extra clothes were not working too well at guarding her from the cold.

Dylan plopped down next to her, disturbing her thoughts before draping a large, thick, fur-lined blanket over her shoulders. She jumped up, letting the blanket spill off her into a cascading heap. Dylan grabbed it just before it hit the ground.

"What are you doing?" Shade glared at him, her face flushed with anger. It wasn't nice to intrude on her space, and she was through tolerating it.

He held his free hand up, smirking a little at the same time. "The polite thing to say is _thank you_. I'm not sure what humans are accustomed to, but when someone gives you a blanket to keep warm in the cold, our kind is grateful. But who am I to say so? I might be wrong to think that way," he added sarcastically.

"You're a prick, Dylan, you know that? I can see it's in your blood, by the way. Just stay away from me. You and your brother can just go to hell!" Shade stood there staring at him, her breath steaming in the cool air as her words came out in a huff. The night pushed hard against the remnants of the day, making her feel suddenly over exposed. Dylan remained calm while he watched her. He lifted the blanket up to her once more. His smirk smoothed out, and the former captain's face fell flat and unreadable. His eyes did give away some feeling; there seemed to be a spark in them that showed he was amused by her reaction.

"Shade, just take the blanket, okay? It's cold out," he muttered. "I'm not really affected by the cold, but, being that you're mortal...." He looked like he was working hard to suppress a smile. "Well, I packed for two. I knew you'd need help out here." His smile returned as he continued. "Really, it's a warm blanket. Think of it as a peace offering." Standing up when she did not go to him, he moved closer until he was in her face, almost touching. He swung the blanket around and draped it over her shoulders. Shade stiffened but let him place the blanket on her, and she held onto it this time, unsure of what to do. He nodded, looking satisfied before turning to walk away.

"Dylan, wait," Shade choked out. Her voice was tight in her throat. She turned to look at him as he stopped in his tracks. He didn't turn around but paused, waiting. "I... I'm sorry, Dylan. I feel like you don't like me, but you don't even know me. Maybe that reminds me of Darren a bit, and that freaks me out. You two are pretty similar, but I know you aren't like him. I know that... I can feel it. I...." She sighed, frustrated with her stumbling tongue. "Thanks for the blanket. I do appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Shade," he answered with a little more warmth than he had ever shown before.

She glanced around and noticed the others working on their own tents. Jack had one, and so did Ewan. Sary and Braelynn looked like they were sharing, and so were Stephen and Than. Shade thought that maybe some of the group were probably pairing up because they didn't have enough tents. Soap had his own tent, and unless they were sharing, it was unclear where Dylan was going to sleep.

"Don't you have a tent, Dylan?"

"I do, but I find it really confining. Besides, I have to stay by you, and there isn't enough room for another tent here. The ground is my bed tonight." He tilted his head slightly, one eye watching her intently.

"Why do you have to camp by me? Do you really have to?"

"No," he stated simply.

"Then why are you hovering? I feel like you're suffocating me."

"No, I wouldn't ever do that. I'd never hurt you!" He whirled back around, his face now serious and his eyes wide. He'd taken her words at face value.

"Whoa, I don't mean literally! It's like an expression." Relieved as he relaxed, she sighed. "Look, you don't have to be stuck to me like glue. I'm not an invalid, and you're not my bodyguard. Get this straight: I do like my space." She'd lost her patience with him and headed off, with the blanket still wrapped around her, toward the smoking carcass that was dinner.

****

DINNER WAS SATISFYING. The fox tasted amazing, or maybe it was just because Shade was starving. It was such a long hike that day, her muscles ached and burned intensely. She had never felt so hungry before, and now, so tired. Sitting on a fallen log by the main campfire, she watched the flames lick the twigs and branches smoldering with soot. Ashes littered the ground around the fire as it flickered and crackled. The heat felt comforting, forcing the chill of the evening away.

It felt cozy in the blanket Dylan had provided, making her feel just a tad bit guilty for snapping at him, especially since his gift had turned out to be so useful. _Okay, I'll try to be nicer to Dylan. This isn't his fault._ She hadn't meant to snap at Dylan, but everything was really overwhelming her. She'd been attacked twice in less than a week. It was hard enough for her to keep up with everyone in the group physically. Her lack of appreciation for outdoor activities didn't help. Taking a deep breath, she knew these were the least of her problems.

_Dad... isn't my real dad,_ she thought sadly. It was difficult to accept. She wasn't glad he was dead, but she was relieved he would never have to know this. How would she deal with it? To make matters worse, she was bound to Dylan, sharing some kind of mutant blood bind connecting her to him, and to Darren in some weird sadistic way, too. _Dylan's blood is Darren's blood...._ She cringed at the thought.

Her life was not turning out quite as she planned. She was supposed to be in high school, cramming for finals, and graduating in three weeks. This was not supposed to happen, and she missed Brisa so much. Who else could tell so many jokes, especially around a warm campfire on a freezing night? She wished Brisa had been pulled into this mess so Shade wouldn't be alone right now. Even with her new friends surrounding her and their happy chatter floating about the fire, she felt the loneliness creep in again.

Sary walked over and sat next to her on the log. She winked at Shade and then settled her gaze on the fire. The silence between them was thick; Shade could sense she was aching to ask her something. She wondered what it could possibly be. Sary was quiet for the most part, unless she was with Stephen. Shade saw how Sary stared dreamily into his eyes whenever they were talking. His face was a mirror of hers, and their devotion radiated around them like some protective, blissful bubble. Shade couldn't help but feel a little envious of their bond.

Shaking the thoughts away, she scolded herself. She wasn't the type to get jealous. She was actually quite happy being the responsible older sister in a single parent home of four kids. It gave her tons of freedom to do whatever she wanted to, and she felt like she was the other adult in the house. She had no time for boys. They just mucked things up, anyway.

Her thoughts wandered to her mother, Jade. She had shoulder length hair, a nice shade of brown with caramel highlights streaked throughout it. It was wavy and never wanted to stay where she'd like it. She was happy just running her hands through and did not fuss much with it. Her big, brown eyes were interesting, too. They had a glint of grey and honey running through both of her irises. The hazel coloring in her eyes definitely stood out with only a touch of makeup on her olive skin. Shade was glad she took after her mother; she'd always seen her mother as a beautiful woman.

"Shade?" Sary's voice gently broke into her thoughts.

"Yes, Sary?"

Sary paused for a moment, studying Shade's face before speaking. "When this is over, will you return to Faerie at all? Or will you want to forget this all happened? I wonder because, you see... I can feel your reluctance even now about completing this task. I know it's a hard thing to ask of you, being that our world is so alien." She sighed nervously before continuing. "But we need you more than you could possibly perceive or understand. I can't even imagine what you think of all this, especially after everything that's happened so far."

Shade felt anxious and slightly guilty because she'd been so caught up in herself and hadn't thought about the rest of the group. She hoped she hadn't seemed too antisocial tonight. Maybe it had an adverse effect on them. She let her eyes linger on the fire, thinking hard on how to answer Sary. It was so difficult to predict the future. She never thought this would be happening to her. She searched for the right thing to say.

"Sary, I hope you don't feel like I could just say goodbye and be done with everyone so easily. You've helped me so much already. I have to admit that this new world is confusing to me. It scares me to death, and I don't feel like I belong here. I don't have the strength or the right training for this. Everyone has said I have magic in me, but I don't know how to use it. How could I ever survive in your world? I just feel terribly vulnerable. I would love to visit you guys when this is all done, but I don't think I could live here.

Sary was staring at Shade, an amused look dancing on her face. She started laughing so hard she almost fell off the log.

"What's so funny?" Shade asked, annoyed at her reaction. She was definitely confused. What the hell could be so funny about what she said?

Sary stopped and shook her head as she cleared her throat. "I'm so sorry, Shade. I don't mean to insult you. I just never thought of our world as that different. It's nice to get an outsider's view. You're right, though. How inconsiderate of me. Of course you don't feel safe. Ilarial did tell us that it was our job to show you how to use your magic. You have more in you than you think you do. I'm still baffled on how you managed to trap Darren in the mirror shards. He was bloody mad about it, but I can't say he didn't deserve it though. He deserved that glass prison and more for what he did to you." She paused, looking a bit more serious. "So how would you like your first official magic lesson?" She grinned, her eyes twinkling in the firelight.

"Oh, I don't know, Sary. I'm kinda tired and was about to go to bed. Maybe tomorrow?"

"No, no, right now. I promise it'll be a short one." She watched Shade squirm uncomfortably. "How 'bout it?" she pushed.

Shade pressed her lips tight in frustration. _There's no sense in fighting it_ , she admitted to herself. "Ok."

Sary jumped up and clapped her hands, and her vibrant enthusiasm cheered Shade up. "Okay then, pick up any stone–really it can be any one that you find. Come on Shade, just pick the first one that catches your eye," Sary repeated when Shade hesitated.

Shade groaned but bent down from the log to study the ground. Searching the particles around her, she looked at each possible stone, but none seemed to stand out. Sitting up, she shook her head slightly, about to complain that she couldn't find one, when a glint of rock flashed in the corner of her eye. She reached out toward the edge of the log and retrieved it. The grey and white stone looked slightly out place among the other white ones imbedded in the sand. Dusting it on her jeans, she placed it in the middle of her palm. "Like this one?"

"Yes, perfect! Now, take your stone and place your other hand over it. You have enough power within you. I can feel it radiating off of you like a fire." Sary waved her hand at her to make her go faster.

Shade protested, but did what she was told. Her hands felt cold in the night air, and the stone was cool in the center of her warm palms. About to give up, she stopped, feeling it get warmer on her skin. She opened her hands, her eyes widening with amazement.

The rock was glowing with a dim yellow hue. The heat was radiating to her fingers from it, feeling as if it should have burned her, but it didn't. Shocked, she dropped it and cradled her hands on her chest. The sand puffed up around it like a meteorite landing. The stone lost its glow until it sat still and dusty once more. She peered up at Sary, who appeared pleasantly surprised.

"Wow, that was faster than I thought it would be. You just made your first light stone! You can make your own light with it and keep your hands warm too. It won't burn you, if that's what you are thinking. This comes in handy on a dark and cold winter's night," she said with smile. Bending down, she plucked the rock out of the gravel, holding it out to Shade.

"It's ok, Shade. Take it. It will only glow when you want it to. Remember, to activate it again, put it between your hands once more. It belongs to you and only you now, so keep it near." She gave her a quick hug as Shade took it and stuffed it into her jeans. It was small and did not bulge out too much. "Good job! I'll let you get to your sweet dreams now." Sary jumped up and joined Stephen, who was calling out to her. They walked away from the fire and over to their tents, chatting quietly.

Shade let out a nervous breath. She'd been taken by surprise with the light stone, but she liked the idea of it. She fished through her pocket and brought the stone out once more. Reactivating it, it burned brighter this time in her palms and warmed her chilly fingers.

Staring at it for a moment before stuffing it back in her jeans, she rose and walked back to her tent.

Maybe, just maybe... I can do this after all.

Chapter Twelve

THE MURMUR OF voices amplified in the growing light of the morning. Shade moaned and wished she'd thought of bringing earplugs. Rolling over, she stuffed her pillow over her head, hoping to muffle the noise. _It can't be morning already_! It felt like she'd just laid her head against her pillow and closed her eyes. Hiking was definitely not on her cool list right now. Her muscles ached and burned.

"Shade, get up. We have to pack and get going. I brought you breakfast. You're going to need it." She felt her pillow fly off her face. Dylan stood crouched at the entrance of her tent, his lips tight with disapproval. He looked wide-awake, making her wonder how long he'd been up. Was it possible he didn't need to sleep? He motioned to a plate of food and drink lying by her. In an instant, he was gone.

Shade blinked and rubbed her eyes. Stuffing the pillow under her neck, groaning and wanting more sleep, disappointment ran through her mind. Sleep was a pleasure of the past now, something she couldn't quite remember having enough of. She glanced at the food he brought; bacon and fresh scrambled eggs with a bread roll were still steaming. It looked amazing and smelled even better.

This coaxed her out of her warm bed as she pulled the food and drink toward her. Inhaling the savory aromas, she was amazed at how hungry she was. Slurping down the sweet, warm tea that Dylan provided made her instantly feel more alert. She wondered what was in that drink; it was always so revitalizing. She'd have to ask someone. Besides, it was curious how they managed to have bacon and eggs so fresh out here in the wild. Munching on the rich, thick slices of bacon, she enjoyed every bit.

_Well, this is my one pleasure out here in this hellhole._ Shade sighed, frowning at her empty plate. The food was gone much too fast. _Good things just do not last around here_. She stretched and fumbled through her bag, pulling her brush, washcloth and towel out, and hoped there was somewhere to wash up. She yanked on her shoes then wrapped the blanket around her like a cape.

Stepping out into the cold morning air was like being electrocuted. It stung her cheeks and sent a thrill down her body. _Yaay,_ _winter weather._ She wondered how it seemed to be a different season every place they went in the faery lands. It didn't seem possible it was spring back home.

Walking up toward the main fire, she looked around. She wanted to find and ask Braelynn or Sary where she could wash up, but Soap popped up in front of her instead. He grinned at her, showing off his pearly white teeth. "Where do you think you're sneaking off to, young lady?"

Shade froze in her tracks, her face flushing and feeling guilty without reason to. Tilting her head, she gazed back upon his still smiling but suspicious face.

"I'm not sneaking off anywhere. I just want to get cleaned up. You wouldn't happen to know where I could, um, go to uh, freshen up?" Her face flushed up scarlet once more under the cold air. Soap wasn't the one she'd wanted to ask.

"It's down that side of the hill a bit. It's a large red tent. Girls on the right, boys to the left." He winked, spun, and trotted back to the camp. Shade gaped at him as he walked—no...skipped—away cheerfully. She shook her head. She couldn't get over how strange he was. They hadn't spoken much since they arrived at the Teleen caverns, making her wonder if he was just being cautious with her, since it'd been a Teleen who attacked her. It was something she'd have to talk to him about later.

She turned back in the direction he had pointed her to, gripping her supplies. Approaching the bathroom tent made her stop in confusion. It didn't look like anything special; the flaps were wind-worn and faded. She wondered how it was even big enough to hold two dressing rooms, let alone anything close to a washroom. She shrugged, too tired to contemplate it for long, and willed herself to get moving.

Inside, she was shocked at how warm and humid it was. The scent of flowers blooming in the springtime permeated the air, and the tent was definitely much bigger than it appeared on the outside. It even had a foyer with a table and hanging mirror. To the right of the wooden table hung a red curtain, and beside it a blue curtain. She supposed the colors were to separate the women and men.

Heading through the red drapery, assuming it was for women, she followed the hallway as it turned toward the left. At the end, it turned again to the right and opened onto a large room filled with mirrors on one side. On the other side were stalls with toilets and two showers next to them.

_This reminds me of camp, only better._ Shade was impressed but not curious enough to wonder for long how it was all possible. She was just grateful it was there. She laid her stuff on one of the chairs and pulled it near one of the shower stalls. She was definitely surprised to find actual flushing toilets in the stalls. _Really, I can't believe the faeries have all this._ She just shook her head in disbelief and undressed, stepping into a shower stall. Soap, shampoo and conditioner were provided, and she was thankful the water was hot. The steaming spray felt exhilarating on her skin and eased her aches. All too soon, she stepped out of the stall, dried her body and hair, and pulled on her fresh clothes. Running the brush through her tangled hair, she gritted her teeth then pulled it back into a tight ponytail.

Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror. For the first time since the attack, she saw her face. It made her suck in her breath. Her face was covered with small, healing pink lines, like spider webs, all across her right cheek. She looked down at her arms where she saw more of the same thin scars. _They're all over me..._. Tracing them with her fingers, she found them smooth and a soft pink, nearly invisible to anyone who wasn't really looking.

She studied the mirror for a bit longer to make sure it didn't ripple or look magical in any way. A shudder ran through her as she did her best not to be reminded of Darren. Turning away when she was satisfied it was just a normal mirror, she gathered her things and grabbed the blanket Dylan gave to her the night before. She wrapped it around herself, realizing she was in dire need of a coat. _The weather here is so annoying._ She didn't want to think about the scars, at least not yet. In a way, the blanket served like armor, covering them up and hiding her skin away. For that, she was grateful. Bundling up her old clothes in the towel, she turned to leave and ran right into Sylphi. Shade gasped, stumbling back with her eyes wide, regaining her balance.

"I'm so sorry, Shade. Did I frighten you?" Sylphi sneered slightly, studying Shade with inky black eyes. Her dark hair was down and a bit tousled, like she had just rolled out of bed. However, it still managed to have some shine. She also held a bundle of clothes and a towel in her arms, pressed to her chest.

Shade gave a small, nervous laugh. "Oh... hello, Sylphi. No, well, maybe just a little. How long were you standing there?" She tried to swallow her anxiety and stood a bit straighter. Nothing about Sylphi made her feel warm and fuzzy. The girl radiated iciness like an open window in the late winter.

"Not for too long, really. I was just going to freshen up." She smiled her sickly, sweet smile, batting her eyelashes innocently. Her eyes were so dark, it was like staring into a pair of black holes. She continued to stare at Shade with her intensely black eyes and didn't make a move to get out of the way.

A chill ran through Shade, but she pressed her lips tight, attempting to smile back at the faery. The sight of her was unnerving to say the least. "Well, ok, I was just leaving. See you later." She had to side step a bit to get around Sylphi, who was still not budging from her spot.

"Why don't you just go home, Shade? No one really wants you here."

Shade hung in mid step as she listened to Sylphi's icy voice. The woman was still not moving but slyly snickering. "You're too weak for this quest. Why don't you give up before you fail miserably? No one wants to be out here in this forsaken wilderness with you anyway. Do us a favor and quit already, _half-breed,_ " Sylphi hissed through her teeth, a menacing twinkle lingering in her gaze.

Well, heard that one before...

Shade glared at her in disgust. Shaking her head, Shade sneered right back. "I'm not a quitter, Sylphi. I need to do this, and nothing you say will change my mind. I don't believe _you_ have to be here, though. You came by choice, remember? So did I... Maybe _you_ should go home." She dodged Sylphi and stepped hurriedly through the doorway, ignoring Sylphi's snide laughter.

I wonder what the hell her problem is.

The cold air slapped her hard once she left the facilities tent, and her hair felt instantly frozen. She didn't stop, though; she hurried as fast as she could to her own tent, or what should've been her tent. All she found was Dylan sitting on the ground, patiently waiting next to her pack.

"What the...? Where's my stuff? What'd you do with my things?" Shade felt her anger tipping the scales and tried to grab a handle on it before hollering at him. She breathed in slowly and deeply, averting her glare away from him. It wasn't his fault that Sylphi had such a strange effect on her. She felt discombobulated. Her breath steamed like clouds floating out her nose and mouth.

He rolled his eyes almost as impatiently as she jumped on him.

"Well, Dylan?"

"Ok, calm down. I so graciously put away your things for you, since you were taking so long in the bath. We're leaving in just a few minutes, by the way." He stood up and held out her pack, dangling it from his fingers.

She snatched it from him with her free hand, biting her lip as he walked off to the main camp without another word. She sighed, realizing she hadn't even bothered to thank him. Why did it seem they clashed over everything? If they were going to be forced to spend so much time together, this would definitely have to stop. Kneeling down, she opened her pack and pulled out a sack for her dirty clothes. She stuffed them in and shoved it back into the pack.

_This will just have to do until we reach the river._ The clothes had a slight odor, and they needed a wash badly. Shade marched down the path to the main camp, joining the rest of the group. Ewan was already waving his arm around to capture everyone's attention as she chose a large boulder to sit on and rubbed her sleepy eyes. _It's already been a long day,_ a _nd it's only the butt crack of dawn._

"Alright, is everybody present? Soap, Jack, Braelynn..." The brawny man glanced about, squinting his eyes at the group. "Where's Sylphi?" Heads whirled around and searched the group.

"I just saw her in the bath tent. She's probably still there," Shade muttered.

"I'm right here." Sylphi stepped out from behind a tree and smiled at the group. Her hair was dried and slicked back into an even tighter ponytail than Shade's. She looked radiant in the morning sun, all dressed in white furs with her pack strapped to her back. She waved at Shade, a sly smirk on her face. Shade frowned back, but not as confidently. She wondered how Sylphi had bathed, dried, clothed herself, packed, and made it to the group so fast. _It's probably a fey thing._

"Alright, that should be everyone. We are heading to the great rivers. We will be getting wet, by the way. Shade, see Braelynn for water repellant charms so your stuff doesn't get soaked," he added as a side note, and then continued on. "We will be camping in the middle of the river lands. It's made up of seven rivers that wind, turn, and meet together at the Pacific Ocean. The rivers are pure Faerie territory, close to human towns. There is to be no wandering across the borders because the iron cites are too close to us along the coast.

He held up a large piece of parchment with a drawing of the rivers. They were vivid blue lines that twisted and curved around the vast green areas on the map. He pointed out the boundaries and again warned of the dangers of wandering too near a human city. Shade stared at the map, utterly confused. It looked so unfamiliar. If her sense of direction was right, they had to be near the coasts of California and Oregon. She didn't recall seeing such a tangle of large rivers there before. This revelation had her waving down Ewan.

"Those rivers are not on ordinary maps. You said it is purely faery territory? Does that mean that the river lands are hidden from humans?"

Ewan nodded, smiling at her curiosity. "Why yes, Shade. Aren't you just sharp as a knife this morning? Yep, human maps look quite different from faery maps, but we have the real world maps. Mortals' maps are only splices of the actual world. They don't know it, but there are vast areas of fey lands that are protected by enchantments and wards. So in essence, the land looks a lot smaller to them than it is." Ewan continued on, letting his finger trace along the borders on the paper. He then quickly rolled up the scroll map, ordering everyone to prepare to leave.

The desert wasteland twisted and blended into the lush forest of emerald green leaves and bushes. The land was riper and more fertile here, almost an artificially vibrant green. No matter which trail they took, Shade could hear rushing water in the distance. It surrounded them like endless background noise. The river lands were strange; there were islands between some rivers where they intersected and weaved together like a tangle of noodles. Then there would be long stretches of land that didn't run into a river at all. Some of the islands sported bridges, while others had none, forcing the group to wade through each river carefully. Even with the waterproof charm, which Braelynn and Sary placed on everyone and their items, Shade couldn't help but feel the cold embrace of the water stealing the warmth from her body. It flowed around her thighs, and the icy cold still seeped through her clothes.

She was left stiff from the frigid waters. With the charms, she did not feel wet, but felt quite dry, even though her teeth chattered and her body shook from the chill. It was a relief to emerge from the cold, wet trek through a river. Once out of the water, the sun warmed her immediately. Her stiff, frozen clothes stuck to her, remnants of a watery grave.

After about four of these submersions, she was ready to smack Ewan. Did they really have to walk through all that cold, muddy, and swirling water so much? Her love of the outdoors, what little she did have, was washing away with each turbulent wave of river water.

Once they stopped to rest, eat, and do their best to warm up, Shade pulled the warm blanket Dylan had given her from her pack and wrapped it tightly around her body. Turning her head up to the sun, she soaked up its comforting rays. It felt amazing, like hot cocoa warming her core after playing in the snow and getting frostbite on her toes and fingers. She closed her eyes, not wanting to move. She felt frozen down to her inner marrow, and her lips were chapped and surely a sickly shade of blue after spending most of the day in the water.

"Hey, drink some hot tea. It will warm your soul." Dylan handed her a steaming cup, his own secured in his other hand.

"Thanks, Dylan." Shade happily accepted it, wrapping her fingers around the warmth of the drink, soothing her stiff joints. She drank it down in a gulp. The hot fluid felt great against her throat, warming her from the inside out. Still huddled in the blanket, she was afraid to break her cozy cocoon if she dared to move.

"Tired of the rapids, huh? They get old really fast, don't they?" Dylan asked, attempting to sound friendly. "I don't miss crossing them at all. You would think some idiot would've put a bridge or something on every river here by now, but faeries are lazy, you know. They'd rather fly right over these banks any day. Of course, we aren't all able to fly, let alone carry anyone else with us," he said with a sigh. "So we have to do it the tried and true way, on foot. I think it's because us faeries don't like to disturb nature too much, so progress is limited." He chuckled, shaking his head as he took another large sip of tea.

He was sitting next to her now, their sides slightly touching, and she could feel his body heat closing the gap between them. Shade turned to watch him more closely. His unusual, steel-colored eyes glinted in the bright sunlight. The deeper they ventured into the wilderness, the more relaxed he appeared. His face had grown softer and younger in the light of the afternoon. She wondered if nature gave off some kind of natural Xanax to the fey. Everyone seemed more at ease, maybe just a touch tired, but no one was complaining. She guessed that it was better than having a group of grumpy, pissed-off faeries. Who knew what they were all capable of doing if pushed too far?

Dylan's hair was still short, but growing faster than a human's hair would. It was dark and shiny, with silver highlights peppered throughout. He shaved that morning, and his skin still shone smooth, with no lines to betray his age. She wondered how old he was, remembering Ilarial mentioned how they were immortal. Besides Soap, no one had volunteered to say how old he or she really was.

"Dylan? Can I ask you something?" He turned toward her, eyes wide with surprise. She should probably speak to him softly more often because it was nice to see him shocked.

"Yes, of course. Go for it." He placed his cup on the dirt in front of him and sat Indian-style, his arms relaxed on his thighs.

"How old are you? How long do faeries live?" She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs, clinging to the blanket and keeping it shut.

"I'm two-hundred and forty-six years old. My brother Darren is only one-hundred and fifteen. We're immortal, but only to a certain extent. The fey are somewhat delicate in a way, more so than humans. We can wither away, if we choose. Your world is fragile too, when it comes to this matter. It's almost like a curse. We are tied to mortals in more ways than one." Dylan paused. He glanced at Shade but quickly turned back to stare down at his cup as he continued.

"When we wither, we choose to leave this world. Our mother was five-hundred and three when she decided she no longer had it in her to carry on, allowing herself to wither into dust. It only took two days. Just two days and slowly, what was a strong, bold, and amazing woman turned into dust and ash," he said with a hint of emotion leaking through his cracking voice. "Life is not easy for the fey. The exiles wither faster because of the toxicity of living in or near the iron cities. Smaller faeries go faster, too. We have stronger clans, like the Guildrin Clan, and our enemies, the Unseelie, are sometimes much stronger than our group of Teleen. Faeries our size are the closest to humans in appearance. My people, the Teleen, are more fragile, dying off as time goes on, very slowly, of course. There are not many Teleen born each year, so our numbers have dwindled as some of us die. If the world was stronger, and the magic in Faerie was not so faded, we could be true immortals and live forever."

"Why is your clan dying? I would think you would be the strongest, since humans have a lot of iron in their blood. It would be hard for any fey to live near us or among us, but you guys are fine with it."

Dylan was staring back at her now. His eyes narrowed, amused as he thought about what she was asking and saying. He licked his lips and looked back over the river. The constant roar seemed to fill the silence between them like an unwanted third wheel. Shade waited impatiently for his answers. She stared at the river while she waited for him talk to her. _At least I beat the rivers,_ she thought, knowing she'd bested the icy waters today and had nothing to prove.

"Well, it has a lot to do with there not being many mated pairs in our clan. Teleen females are rarely born to our clan now, and those who are, get paired off quickly and stay together for life. If you're not paired with one, as a male, you are out of luck. That is, unless a free Teleen faery woman shows up out of nowhere," he said quietly, as if he didn't think that was possible.

"What else is bothering you, Shade?" Dylan's deep voice was more like a harsh whisper. He was even leaning a little toward her to muffle his voice so no one else could hear.

"I don't know. It's just that, compared to all of you guys, I'm so weak. Even though you say you have vulnerabilities, you are still more powerful than me. I don't know how to do magic or any kind of fighting. Without you guys here, I would be useless... helpless." Shade took a deep breath before continuing. "It's all so intriguing, but it scares me so much. There are so many things I don't know. I'm as good as dead out here against other fey.

"Ilarial told me to learn, but how do I learn? I don't know a thing about fighting or handling a sword or knife." She sighed, closing her eyes as she cradled her head on her knees, tears prickling behind her eyelids. She thought back to about what he'd said about not being paired with a female Teleen. She wondered if he was paired or not, and if he was, where was his mate?

Dylan watched her thoughtfully. He nodded as though agreeing with her. His eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment as he was in deep thought.

Shade wondered what it could be that he was thinking.

"I must train you, then. You're right. You are weak without any kind of protection. If you were to be separated from us... well, I don't want to think about it. You have a sword, right?" She nodded, thinking about the beautiful sword in her pack Ilarial had given her. "Great. Then we train today." He stood, offering her a hand. "Grab your sword. I'll teach you a move or two."

Surprised, she took his hand, standing up and fumbling through her pack for the sword. Finding it, she waited, holding it slack in her hand.

"Alright, you need to stand ready. The easiest thing to do is to stand with your feet apart, knees bent. You can put one foot forward a bit. That's right. You need to keep your body balanced, so you can move any which way during an attack." He moved to stand next to her, his body facing her side. Reaching out, he adjusted her arms to put both hands on the hilt of the sword, bringing her elbows to a bend. He tugged and pushed at her limbs, making her almost fall over as he adjusted her legs. Standing behind her, he placed his hands on her hips and back, pushing again to make her straighten up her poor posture while still bending her knees. Her thighs screamed in protest.

"You need to relax. I'm not going to bite." He snickered. Shade frowned but tried to do as he told her. "There. See? Flexed, ready to pounce."

Shade nodded, feeling nervous at his proximity but excited at learning something about using a sword.

"Now, I want you to do this exercise: step forward, then back, then side to side, holding the sword opposite the direction you head, like a dance, counterbalancing each other, like partners." His voice was just above a whisper near her face. It sent a thrill down her spine.

"Wh-what?"

Dylan groaned, motioning to her to give up the sword. She did and watched him as he showed her what he meant. His movements were fluid and well-practiced. She gulped, hoping she could look more like he did and less like a clumsy ogre.

"See? A dance. Practice it." He handed the sword back and stepped back to give her some room.

"That's it?" she stammered.

"That's it."

Shade felt slightly disappointed but didn't push him any further. Learning that 'dance' would be plenty for now. "Okay, I can do this. Oh, Dylan?"

"Yes?"

"Were you paired off at birth?" She risked a peek at his face as she attempted her first move to the left.

"No, I was never paired at birth, but our oracle, who's about eight-hundred years old, did tell me a prophecy about it." He sighed and stared out across the river.

"What'd she say?"

"She said that I'd meet my mate one day, one who'd never resided among us, and that my life would change forever. It'd be filled with great and challenging events, some unfortunate and some amazing."

"Really? So, did you meet her yet?" Shade watched his face, calm and handsome. She found him intriguing in a way she could not explain. And to think, just hours ago, he was getting on her last nerve.

Dylan turned toward her and studied her face, his flashing eyes amused at her questions. Giving her a smile, he reached out, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. Shade felt her heart jump, sending her skin flaring up at his touch. "I don't really know. Maybe." He continued to watch her, a sad smile playing across his lips. "Once camp is set up tonight, we will work on more sword fighting. Be ready!" He grabbed his cup from the ground while dusting off his pants. He walked away then without another word, leaving her stunned.

"Wh-what? _More_ tonight? Dylan?" She stuttered and couldn't spit out the rest of her words. He was gone and nowhere near her now. Shaking her head, she laughed to herself.

He's so strange and drives me insane! Maybe that's a good thing.

****

SHADE STRETCHED HER legs out before her, massaging her calves and working out some of the knots deep under her skin. They stopped for a rest again after another horrible river crossing. She wondered if the fey ever even got sore. _Probably not._ She kept wondering what Dylan was thinking, too. Some of the things he did and said confused her. It made her frown at the thought of how nervous he made her feel.

Standing up, she took her teacup back to Stephen, who seemed to like being the group's cook and occasional dishwasher. He gave her a short nod, smiling as he continued to wash the soiled dishes. He wasn't actually physically washing them, he was just moving his hands over them, making them rinse themselves in the river.

_I need to learn that! That'd be useful back home!_ Shade thought, turning back toward the group where Jack was talking seriously to Ewan. Maps sat spread out before them on a table. _Who brought the furniture?_ Shade thought as she walked toward them. She still couldn't get over the bath tent and the constant use of magic here. When she reached the two men, they were pointing at several spots on the map, plotting their journey.

"I think going over Fable's Fair Bridge would be a better option. It goes closer to the cliffs of Raenin. We need to go past the cliffs and end up on Solare's Beach. There's a cave road there we can take to the inland forests, around the Santiran lands. If we go down to Maziel's Pass, it will take us longer to make it to the beach, and it goes too close to Unseelie territory." Jack's hand was darting around the map at several points on the unfamiliar land.

Shade studied it while the men stood there thinking. She could see the cities of Portland and San Diego along one side of the great fey territory. There were areas marked off that showed the highways and smaller human towns. The vast wilderness that belonged to the fey was unbelievable. She traced the river lands with her fingers and found Solare's Beach on the map. Shaped like a crescent moon, it was not very big at all. It had a small river that emptied into the ocean along one side. Next was Craven's Cave Road, which wound around the cliffs of the beach and disappeared into a cave. Shade shuddered at the thought of going into another cave again.

"How do we make it across the cliffs?" Shade asked Ewan and Jack. They turned toward her and smiled.

"You have to walk down the west side of the cliffs or take a long rope bridge across this great river." Ewan pointed at a line crossing across the largest of the rivers that bisected the cliffs.

Shade cringed because crossing a bridge held together by rope was not much of a comfort either. _Caves and unstable bridges... it's my lucky day._ Her throat ached from nerves, and it felt as if there were a knot in it. "Really? Ah man, do we have to go on a rope bridge?" She glanced at Jack and Ewan. "And another cave?"

"You afraid of heights, Shade?" They said at once and laughed at the disgust all over her face.

"No! Of course not! It's just, they're so flimsy! It rocks a lot, and it just isn't safe!" She crossed her arms and huffed away. Jack started coughing, trying to hold back his laughter while Ewan slapped him on his back.

When they stopped snickering, Ewan cleared his throat, his face flushed and his eyes twinkling bright. He motioned for everyone to gather their stuff and fall back into line to leave.

Shade fell in with the group, still grumbling under her breath. She followed everyone out along the bank of the rushing river. She began to wonder just how long it was going to take to get to the Santiran Fountains. It felt like they were gone forever. Her patience was wearing thin, especially with nature. Seeing the map made her feel even more sullen. The territory they were crossing was enormous and so vast that it seemed like they hadn't really gone that far. So much happened already, and they weren't even close yet.

"Hey, having fun yet?" Soap asked as he hung back from the others and fell in step with her. She gave him a nasty look and didn't like the fact that someone else from the group was making fun of her.

"Ok, ok, no need to be harsh," he said, losing his usual grin. "I was just wondering something, Shade, and I hope you would answer this for me."

She sighed and turned back toward Soap. His contagious good mood was already flowing over her and taming her gloomy demeanor. She grinned back, nodding. "What is it?" She slipped on a damp, mossy rock in the slick grasses. Soap caught her arm and cradled her with his other one. Her face was so close to his, he could have kissed her. She laughed a bit and thanked him for catching her, straightening herself up before he answered.

"The voices, the ones you said are your spirit guides, are they still bothering you? What do they say about us?"

Shade took a deep breath and thought about it for a moment. She hadn't really heard from her spirit guides since they'd left the caverns. As a matter of fact, she hadn't heard the voices at all since waking up from the attack. It was actually somewhat nice to hear just her own thoughts in her head. She stretched out her mind to find them, but no one answered her inner thoughts. Panic suddenly swirled inside her as she felt a kind of emptiness without them.

Why have they been silent? Maybe they're gone for good now.

"Honestly, I haven't heard them talk since Darren attacked me. It's funny, my whole life I wished they would just shut up, and now–now I miss them."

"Well, it's probably just the rivers. They're quite magical, you know. They say that the rivers are the roads of dreams. Once you stand by one, the magic is too strong. It can literally turn a fey into a near mortal. We can't use too much of our magic here. The river won't have it. That's the myth, anyway. It's like dead space to our kind, the in between of worlds. I think it might be affecting you, too. I literally can't change around the rivers. I can only use a simple glamour and charms. It's strange...."

Shade nodded as they continued down the slippery banks without speaking again for a while. She wondered if Soap wanted to ask her anything else. He seemed more quiet than usual. This would have bothered her more, but concentrating on not slipping on another rock or mossy wet patch kept her attention for now. They reached the edge of the bank to another crossing area. She groaned as she watched the front of the group submerge themselves up to their waists in cold river water. The rush of the current wasn't as strong at the crossings points, but she loathed the cold feel of the water. She reached the edge of the bank and watched as Soap strode right on in without so much as a whimper. _Man up, already_! She sighed and dipped her feet into the icy water, sucking in a breath.

She was near the other side when she heard some shouting. She straightened up to see further up the bank where Ewan, Jack, and Than were wildly shouting at someone, someone she couldn't see from her position in the river.

"Shade, come on. I think we're being attacked. Hurry!" Sary waved at her frantically and held her other hand out to her. She took it and pulled herself up out of the rushing waters. The chill was there again, and her teeth chattered together. She was pretty sure her lips were blue with cold. Sary kept half turning and pressing her on to follow, practically dragging her along.

Soap already left his position in front of her to join Jack and the others, who were now taking shelter behind some trees and drawing weapons. Shade found a large tree trunk to hide behind as arrows started sailing by, buzzing like bees as they flew. She felt drugged and sluggish from the cold. She had the blanket on, but in the cover of the trees and with no hot tea to drink this time, she was not recovering as well as before. Huddling against the tree and pulling the blanket around tightly for warmth, she was still shivering. She peeked around the tree as there was a break in the flying arrows. Whoever was attacking them had either run out or was restocking their weapons.

Jack was yelling at someone. Everyone stood their ground, hiding in their makeshift covers. She couldn't see who or what they were yelling at. She strained to hear anything... and then suddenly it came, a voice. The gravely laugh was in the distance, but whoever it belonged to was not too far away.

"You can't hide forever, little half-breed. I know she's with you. Just hand her over, and we'll be on our way," the voice screeched through the trees.

_Who is that? I've heard that voice before,_ Shade thought as the cruel laugh made her cringe. She strained a little more to see across the trees, spotting the owner of the voice. Lady Blythe was perched on a branch not too far above Ewan and the others. The Queen of the Dryad's skeletal, translucent wings were fluttering so fast that Shade could barely see them. If there hadn't been a slight breeze whirling around her, the tiny wings would have gone unnoticed altogether. Shade's heart pounded. She knew just what they wanted but not why.

"We will never give her to you, Blythe! You are far beyond your borders, and you have no rights here. This is neutral territory. Be gone already!" Jack's voice was strong and sturdy. He did not seem afraid but was definitely on the side of caution.

"You stupid fool! You dare insult me? I am Queen here. The trees are _my_ domain, no matter where! You give me the Halfling, and I let you leave alive. Otherwise, you can all die, and I will still take the girl. Choose wisely!" Her cackling voice echoed through the air.

Shade didn't think it was possible, but she felt even colder than before. She worked hard to keep her teeth from chattering again, praying silently that the old hag of a faery would leave her alone. She didn't look like a nice faery from the 'fairy' stories of Shade's childhood. She looked vicious, dark, and ruthless flying up there in the branches. Shade's heart was racing as she glanced around, trying to think of a way to get away from there.

"No, Lady Blythe. We can't do that. It is our oath to protect her, and that we will, to the death even." Jack was holding his sword out. It glinted in the few rays that escaped the canopy of tree leaves above.

"So be it. Die then," she said without feeling. Lady Blythe laughed even harder as more arrows began to fly.

Shade ducked back behind the trunk and looked around for the others. Sary was pulling out daggers and weapons from behind a tree near her. Stephen was already returning arrows to whomever it was that was shooting them. Some screams of pain howled through the trees, but she wasn't sure who was behind it. Cracking branches and thumps in the bushes made her jump. She pulled out her own short sword and held it tightly in her hands. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and pressed herself to the tree, trying to become one with it. If only she could change into a tree, she could hide pretty well then.

The battle spilled around her as Lady Blythe's warriors pushed back against them. Jack was clanging swords against one tall but slender fighter. He had bulging muscles, pale skin much like Blythe's, and long white hair. All but his eyes were pale, and his skin was almost translucent. A pair of wings were tightly folded and pressed against his back to avoid being sliced by a sword. He wore thin metal armor that glinted in the streams of light as he fought. They all looked similar to the queen, and they worked and moved together like a hive of drones.

Shade ran for cover at the edge of the battle and hid behind some large looming trees. _The best way I can help everyone is to stay hidden and avoid getting hit,_ she thought. Part of her wanted to help, but she was sure there was no way she could fight.

Suddenly, the arrows stopped altogether, and everyone was on the ground fighting. Even Blythe joined the fight with her own dual slender swords. She was holding off Than, who was fighting with his daggers, their silver sheen glinting with every movement. She kicked him hard in the stomach and laughed as he flew back onto the ground. Dirt was flying up everywhere. Blythe caught Shade watching her, and a sinister smile crept across her face as she started toward Shade.

"Come here, little girlie." She started marching toward Shade but ran right into Jack and his swords, losing one of hers in the collision. She blocked him with her remaining sword and began battling his two. The metallic resonance filled the air as Shade backed away into the shadow of the forest. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she could feel the beat vibrating in her throat. She felt flushed as her blood pumped rapidly throughout her body, her breaths growing short and quick.

"Shade!" Dylan was now next to her and tugging at her arm. He led her deeper into the woods, and she tried hard to not stumble or fall on the branches and dead shrubbery that scraped at her legs and sliced at her arms.

"Slow down, Dylan! I can't go that fast!" Her hand slipped from his as she fell to the ground, grinding her knees into the dirt and rock.

Dylan didn't pick her up. He was occupied, swinging his sword against another warrior dryad. As they fought around her, Shade managed to get to her feet. Mud streaked across her jeans and hands, making her wipe even more of the mess onto her pants. It was then that she noticed her sword had fallen onto the ground. She looked back over her shoulder at Dylan; he and his foe were still clanging their swords together. Dylan had a cut along his left forearm that was streaked with blood. Shade stepped forward and bent down to grab her sword, swearing as she did, for her right knee was on fire. _I must have scraped it or bruised it when I fell._ She stumbled to another tree and pressed her back to it, gripping the sword in her hands, the blade and hilt also caked in mud.

Her eyes were stinging with tears, although she didn't noticed she'd been crying. Swallowing back a sob, she shook with fear. Breathing deeply, she looked around the large tree trunk and tried to see through the woods for anyone else in the group. She heard screams, yelling, and swords clanging, but she wasn't as close to the fighters as she'd first thought. She couldn't hear them clearly anymore, realizing she'd stumbled too far away. Her heart jumped as morbid thoughts crept into her head. _What if they're hurt or dead?_ She couldn't even see Dylan anymore but continued to hear the clank of swords.

Shade moved slowly from her spot and crept closer to the voices, using the trees and bushes for cover. She hunched behind them, pressing herself close, wishing she could blend in and disappear. The hilt of her sword was cool but reminded her of playing pirates with fake swords as a child. She tried her best to slow her breathing, feeling slightly dizzy from her frantic panting. Shade listened intently, but it seemed like the fighting died down. The silence was even more frightening than the noise. Leaves rustled above her, like a flock of birds flapping their wings, startling her. She could hear a loud roar of rushing water behind her but nothing else.

_This can't be good._ _What now? Where is everyone?_ Shade waited for an answer. Her spirit guides were silent. _What happened to you guys?_ The silence made her feel utterly alone. The forest was daunting, dark, and forlorn. She let the tears flow but bit her lip to swallow her sobs. Sliding down the trunk, she curled herself in the oversized roots that veined the dirt. Her legs bent up under her as she hugged them, her sword still dangling loosely from her hands.

Time seemed to have stopped now. She still couldn't hear anyone but felt afraid to move. A cool breeze rustled the canopy of the trees, and it felt like something, or someone, had brushed against her, making her jump just a bit. It prickled along her arms like cactus spines, making her realize someone was very close. She held her breath and slowly stood up, still pressed to the trunk. Listening, she knew that whoever was around was trying to blend in too.

Shade could feel eyes burning into her, as though they were waiting for her to give herself away. She wiped the last of her tears from her face and gripped her sword more tightly. Her hair flew about her face, stringy and stuck with sweat. She could taste salt on her lips, dirt and tears, and knew she was a disheveled mess. She thought about her family and Ilarial and didn't want to disappoint them. There was no giving up. There was more than just fear inside her, she could feel it. Straightening up, she breathed out slowly and began scanning the woods.

"I can smell your fear, little girl. Why don't you just give up? Lady Blythe won't hurt you, at first. I just want to talk for a bit, and then maybe the hurt can start after that," she sneered.

Shade was so disgusted by the old woman's cackling laugh. She could almost feel it rippling down her spine. Shade couldn't see her, but she could feel the old faery's magic dancing along her skin. The faery radiated power like an unchecked flame that touched Shade with its fingers. She estimated in her head that the faery was just on the other side of the tree. It was then that she squeezed her sword, feeling her fingers digging into each other and turning white from the pressure. She let out a primal scream, swinging the sword hard as she flung herself around the corner.

The blade sliced Blythe in her shoulder but failed to cut too deeply. She screeched and jumped back, bringing her blade up in defense. Crimson blood dripped down her arm and oozed off into the dark earth. The queen did not seem very tall to Shade. Even standing up made her still look like a short, bony thing of a sprite. _No wonder she spent her life up in the trees. Anyone can look intimidating from up high._ Shade retreated behind the tree but readied herself to sprint or fight.

"You stupid girl! How dare you attack me!" There was a loud thump against the trunk of the tree.

Shade's bravery was being used up way too fast, and she was pretty sure the old woman had just tried to blast her with something. She stepped back from the tree and readied her sword once more. Blythe suddenly jumped in front of her from the side, hollering in another language, her pointy teeth flashing and her sword held high. Then she charged. Shade dodged her but tripped on a tree root. She scrambled to stand but stumbled backward, forced to crawl on her hands and feet to get away.

Lady Blythe hit the roots with her sword, making it stick. She tugged with her scrawny arms, but failed to budge it from the earth. The tree seemed to grip it tighter the more she fought to retrieve her weapon. Shade took the moment to get back onto her feet and run. She ran as fast as she could, glancing back only to find Blythe without her sword, running just as fast and quickly gaining ground.

Shade dodged and wove her way through the trees. The roar of the river water was closer now, but the rush of wind blowing in her ears made it impossible to calculate how far away it was. She prayed that the land would not run out for her. She had the feeling the Dryad Queen could cross the river faster than she could.

Shade forced herself to make an abrupt stop as the land narrowed to an edge. Stuffing the sword away in her pack, she prepared to cross the river, but she was shocked to learn that instead, she found a drop-off. One of the rivers emptied over a cliff and formed into a waterfall.

_Oh my God...._ Water clouds rose from the rocks below, and she could feel herself pale as the height of the cliff became more evident. The land stretched out beyond the drop-off with more forests, hills, rivers, and jagged mountains.

_There's nowhere to go but down_.

Shade turned to see Blythe slowing her run to a jog and snickering at her. Her large eyes flashed with her wicked smile. Her pale skin had a slight flush to it now, and she slowly stepped toward Shade. Shade felt her heart thudding hard in her chest and tried not to be afraid. The Dryad Queen licking her lips didn't help, but it made Shade feel like she was about to be dinner.

Blythe took out her dagger. "You have nowhere to go. You're so weak. I wonder why Zinara could even fathom that you could save them. The Unseelie will be greatly pleased to have you as their prisoner. The Unseelie Queen will owe me, and she will be sick with my victory. Come to me now... I promise it won't hurt much." She sneered, but her eyes were cold and serious. She stepped closer, pulling a rope from her waist belt.

Shade shook her head and turned her eyes back to the waterfall. There was nowhere to go. She strained to hear her comrades but heard only the rush of water overwhelming her ears. No one was coming to save her. She glanced back at Lady Blythe and her evil smile. No, Shade could not go with her. As Shade stepped farther back, she realized that the edge was inches from her feet. She knew with certainty that her fate was sealed.

"You don't want to fall now, do you?" Lady Blythe asked, eyeing her with words coming out like sweet, poisonous honey.

Shade wasn't fooled. She could feel her knees wobble but concentrated on not falling. She wasn't sure how long she could steady herself with a horrid witch in her face. Letting out a nervous sigh, she began to reach for her backpack. _This is crazy and it won't work!_ After stuffing the warm blanket into her pack, she pulled it onto her shoulders. A moment later, she turned from Blythe and jumped.

The wind lashed at her body and howled in her ears. She could barely hear the queen's furious scream as the icy water swallowed her whole.
Chapter Thirteen

THE FRIGID WATERS shut down her senses, and Shade couldn't feel a thing. Everything was dark, but she heard a faint call of sparrows high above her over the gurgling sound of water. She attempted to move her fingers and arms, but they barely responded. Her eyes felt like weights were on them, gluing them shut. She was blinded, moaning as she rolled to her side. Her bones creaked in protest at the shift, and moving her fingers sent a sharp, stinging pain up her arms.

The light was searing as she opened her eyes, blinking a few times so they could adjust. _Am I dead? Where the hell am I? God, my body is burning!_ She was sure if this was heaven, she'd feel nothing but peace. Hell, on the other hand... _well, you can burn in pain there,_ she thought nervously.

Lying there on the bank of the river, she could feel her feet, soaked and frozen, still in the water. The earth was cold underneath the rest of her body. Her backpack felt dry, probably due to the spells Braelynn casted. Shade's clothes were another matter; they were sopping wet and melded to her body, making her teeth chatter involuntarily. It felt like she'd never be warm again. She sat up very slowly and surveyed the muddy embankment, seeing nothing but the sand that irritated her skin.

_At least the sun still shines_ , she thought, trying to hold on to the slightest bright spot in this situation. It occurred to her she had to at least try and move or she'd freeze to death. _If I don't get moving, heaven will be my next stop._ She groaned, feeling the sting of every scrape that marked her body, remembering the rocks on the bottom of the waterfall. She wasn't sure if anything was broken and struggled to get to a drier area on the shore. Her left arm was sore and wouldn't cooperate. Craning her neck to the side, she found her shoulder not quite in the right anatomical position.

I must have dislocated my shoulder.

She thought it was strange that it didn't hurt until she'd looked at it. Whimpers escaped her mouth, but she continued to drag herself up the embankment with her good arm and two heavy legs. A rush of nausea from the pain pressed at her, threatening to make her pass out. It hung on like sticky syrup until she leaned to one side and let whatever was left of breakfast shoot out. Her dark blue lips trembled, her hands cyanotic and oddly pretty in the glowing daylight. The color reminded her of arctic blue ice.

When the heaving stopped, she found herself sobbing. She didn't hear anyone around her, and fortunately, she probably lost Blythe in the froth of the falls. What was so great about getting away if she was just going to end up freezing to death, anyway, covered in filthy mud? Shade prayed that her mom would find her here, helpless and in dire need of a doctor, and whisk her away. All she wanted was to believe this was all a bad dream, and that she'd wake up and find herself in a safe and warm place. Shade lay there for what felt like an eternity before she heard the crunch of crackling leaves. Swallowing down the last sob, she blinked through the tears in her eyes. Her heart beat like a fluttering hummingbird, banging in her chest.

"Who's there?" She heard the crack in her voice, sounding faded and rough. She wondered how long had she screamed heading down the falls.

"Hush now. You're hurt. Don't move or you'll hurt yourself even more. One moment. This might, unfortunately, hurt a bit," a gentle voice warned.

She felt a hard tug on her body and screamed as an unbearable pain flared up her left arm. Her body shifted and dragged farther up the shore, over more beach sand, and onto a dry blanket before she looked up at her rescuer. It was becoming nearly impossible to keep her eyes open. Her head rolled from side to side as the pain from her damaged shoulder burned through her body. Before the darkness came, she caught sight of a pair of gleaming green eyes, dried autumn leaves, and a flash of brown linen. Trying to open her mouth to speak was futile as she slipped away into the silence of unconsciousness.

Chapter Fourteen

_SHADE, FORGIVE US._ _We have tried to reach you, but you've cast us out. We're here to help you heal and awaken you from your deep sleep_. _Now only dreams will find us._ The voices were gentle, but spoke with urgency, echoing in her head.

Shade stood in an open field; the mountains and rivers were nowhere in sight. The breezes caressed the tall grasses and swirled about her hair, dancing and playing with the strands like unseen ballerinas.

Where the heck am I now?

Astrid, Duende, and Elaby stood before her. She knew them. Her spirit guides were familiar and comforting. They were flesh and bone standing in front of her now. The three sisters were carbon copies of each other. Their long black hair and gowns floated around them as if suspended in water. Their pale skin shone like moonlight glistening on the surface of a lake. She could not see their feet; it was as if they hung above the grass without touching the ground. They were beautiful.

"What's going on? Where am I? Why can't I hear you guys anymore?" Shade felt the sting of tears as her voice wavered. She was through with crying. There was enough sorrow surrounding her, making her feel suddenly so tired. She brought her hand to her left shoulder and found it no longer dislocated, hanging normally in its place. It moved effortlessly, without any pain. She hoped she was dreaming and not dead.

" _Shade, we know you're afraid, but we won't harm you. It could not be helped that we were away,"_ the sisters told her all at once. _"Somehow, your magic trapped Darren in the mirror, but it also pushed us out of your head, too. We are unable to communicate with you, our ties now severed. We've worked hard to find you again. Your magic shields you, letting us in only in your dreams."_

Shade pondered their words for a moment. _Damn it... Darren!_ He had scarred her far worse than she'd even imagined. The loss of her spirit guides was like having a chunk of her soul ripped away. She sighed and watched them smile at her. Each sister finished the others' sentences. It was intriguing to listen to them as they harmonized in one voice.

"So where am I? I was on some shore, freezing. My arm was probably broken and not in the right place. Am I awake? Dead? Dreaming?"

" _You are still asleep. Fear not, dear Shade, we have healed you with our powers. We have been away for too long,"_ said the women. _"Now, we are unbound."_

"What do you mean? I won't hear you in my head anymore? How could I have let this happen?" Shade felt her knees weaken but caught herself before they failed.

"We are so sorry. We had no idea this would come to pass. We can only believe that any further communication with us will be only through your dreams."

Shade nodded at the revelation. There was no point in trying to undo what was already done. Even so, the loss twisted in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

The dream shifted rapidly, and the bright warm sunlight faded into a deep grey and cloudy day. Shade spun around, watching the swirling dark grey clouds grow above her. "What's happening?" The wind howled around her, whipping the grass across her legs.

" _We must go. Your dream is breaking. It's time to wake up, Shade. Wake up."_ The clouds came down around in a deep, billowing fog that swallowed the spirits, landscape, and Shade alike.

"Wake up...."

****

"WAKE UP! IT'S just a bad dream. Wake up!"

The voice sounded familiar, but Shade couldn't place it. She squeezed her eyes together before slowly opening them to a dimly lit room. Her eyes narrowed in at the shadowy figure in front of her, focusing on its blurred edges. His face was partially covered by a dark, hooded cloak. The hood only allowed lips to show through, obscuring the rest of his face in darkness.

The figure reached toward her, making her scramble in a panic, pushing away until her back hit the wall. Her left arm throbbed with a dull ache, but she found she could use it just fine. Still confused, she wrapped her arms around her legs, gripping them while she stared at the stranger. She concentrated on keeping her eyes in focus as the room tilted in a wave of dizziness. She'd sat up way too fast.

The figure stopped advancing and eyed her. Seeing her pull away, he retreated, stood straighter, and waited. When he did finally speak, his voice was soft but thick and flowing, like rich syrup.

"I apologize. I meant no harm. Please, I only want to help you. My name is Ursad, and I live here in the forest by the ocean." He paused, waiting for a reaction from her. When none came, he proceeded. "Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything? Water? Are you hungry? Any pain? You look like you've been through a wringer." He spoke quickly, overly eager to help her.

Shade's face flushed, and her eyebrows furrowed in further confusion.

"Sorry, I don't mean to frighten you," he apologized.

"Where am I?" Shade relaxed a little, as he did not try to come closer again.

"You're here in my house. It's not much, but it's home. I hope you found the bed to your liking. I really don't have a lot of room, but it's comfortable enough for me, at least." He studied her closely, chewing on his smooth, plump lips.

Shade stared right back at him. He looked pretty harmless, but the hood hid too much of his face for her to read him well enough. Trying to relax, she sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling the soft, threadbare blanket around her. Her body was cozy warm, and her aches weren't as sharp as they had been. She sighed; at least she wasn't in Blythe's care. This was definitely the better half of her current situation.

"I'm sorry. My name's Shade. I just wasn't sure if it was safe here. I was being chased...." She stopped, wondering if she should trust this stranger with anything, especially with her story. Maybe he knew too much already. "I guess I lost them. How did you find me? Was I out of it for long?"

"Shade?" The way her name spilled out of his mouth made her shiver. "Well, nice to meet you. I found you on the beach. It shares the shore with a small pool of water that feeds from a small stream that breaks off from one of the great rivers. I live near it, and I happened to be walking by when I saw you. You passed out after that. I am truly sorry that I hurt you, pulling on your shoulder like that. I didn't know it was dislocated, but somehow it's not anymore. You must be full of healing magic. You've healed quite rapidly. It's amazing, if you don't mind me saying so. I would love to know how you do it." He was smiling, but she definitely did not like having his face so hidden. She reached toward him to pull the hood back as he spoke, since he was not too far from the bed. It was his turn to pull away and crouch by the door.

"No, please!" He shook his head and hid the rest of his face in his sleeve. He bounced nervously back and forth on his feet, as though the thought of pulling off the hood caused him great anxiety.

"Why not?" Shade demanded. "I don't feel very comfortable talking to you when I can't see your face. Let me see. Is there, um, is there something wrong with your face?" She sat back down and blushed with embarrassment, realizing just how forward she'd been, possibly even rude. She didn't mean to offend him. Her nervousness had her reacting without thinking.

_Maybe he's deformed under there_. She gulped, shaking the thought out of her head. _How bad can it be?_

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that, but really, you need to take it off. It's okay. You'll scare me more with it on." Shade waited and watched him bring his arm down.

He seemed to be thinking about what she'd said because he let his gaze linger on her for a long time. Unexpectedly, he nodded. "You're right. I am what I am, but please don't be afraid. I tend to frighten everyone. I don't get too many visitors here at all, not even other fey. I've gotten used to solitude. It has been so long since I've been around others." He sighed and lifted his chin. Tentatively, he reached up and pulled the hood down, letting it fall away from his face.

Shade tried to keep in the gasp that fought to escape her lips. She knew, however, that her shock showed in her widening eyes. She immediately composed herself, hoping the slip would not anger him. His face was unusual, but she wouldn't say it was scary, not with such sad eyes staring back at her.

"Ursad, can I ask you something? What exactly are you?" _I've never seen anyone like him,_ she thought as she observed his face. Where the facial hair ended, his skin grew like tree bark, all tan and dark with lines trailing through it. His hair was made of green, thin leaves with twigs and small thin vines springing from his head. She could definitely tell he was faerie or human, but he'd been transformed into what appeared to be a tree man. His hands were smooth and human in appearance, but nothing above the neck resembled a normal human face.

"I didn't always look this way. I was cursed a long time ago, and my face and hair have been affected in this way ever since." His face turned sad, and he lowered his eyes to stare down at the floor as he continued. "I guess I should explain further." He looked up at her and paused, waiting for her approval.

She nodded to him, eager for an explanation.

"I was a faery prince once, a long time ago. I was very handsome, and women threw themselves at my feet, catering to my every whim. I had my choice of any fey or human woman. Well, you could say I was arrogant, knowing my effect on women. I thought myself undeniable and irresistible. That is, until one night I was in a tavern, enjoying the party and drinking a bit too much liquor. I was surrounded by beauties and laughing with the lot of them. It was quite fun.

"One woman approached me then. She wasn't the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, but definitely not the ugliest. She was quite plain in appearance, with flat brown hair, plain brown eyes, and nothing remarkable in her smile to speak of. It was as if when she was created, no animation or personality of any kind was added. I was just not interested... but she had other ideas.

"She told me, 'I am Elinia, daughter of Talik, the were-stone maker. I am here to offer marriage to you. I love you and would be honored to be your wife.' It came out cold, lacking any kind of warmth and stiff as a board.

"Of course, I didn't know who she was, or what she was for that matter. I laughed at her request and snubbed her in front of the whole tavern in my drunken stupor. Everyone laughed at my smart antics, and I gave her a quick shove to get her out of my immediate sight. I didn't know what it was I was doing. I laughed and laughed until she scrambled off the floor and ran out of the tavern crying, to my satisfaction. I was glad I didn't have to ridicule her anymore, relieved that she was gone.

"I finished out the night laughing and having a fabulous time. Not once did I give another thought to the girl. When I readied myself to leave, I walked out of the tavern and to the stables where my horse was waiting. When I was untying my horse, she approached me from behind.

"'I curse you, Ursad, Prince of the lands of Santire. Prince of nothing you will be! Fair as the bark of a tree, I curse you for infinity! Return you to how you are freed, gentle kiss from a queen-to-be!' I stared at her as she finished her words and started laughing again.

"'You'll regret this, Ursad. You will look back with a heart broken and filled with remorse. I promise you that.' She disappeared then, as suddenly as she'd come. I was left alone in the silence of the dark stables. I didn't feel different, but curses are not taken lightly in fey culture. I began to wonder what she meant by her words. I shrugged them off and rode away into the night, back to my kingdom."

"It was a long journey home, so I had to stop for the night. As I walked to a lodge at the side of a country road, I wiped my face because it was covered in dripping sweat. I felt sick then, and wondered what was going on. I checked into the lodge and fell into a deep sleep, exhausted.

"The next morning, after I woke, I walked to the mirror hanging in the room to comb my hair. My hair and my face had changed. What I saw was what you see now. Horrified, I fled my country, for no one would recognize me looking like such a monster. I haven't returned since, and so here I am, alone." Ursad looked back up at Shade, and their eyes met.

"I'm drawn to the forest, the ocean, and the pools of water. They pull me like a magnet, so I chose this place to live. They give me solace in my pain and exile. The waters bless me with their favor, leaving bits of the world, and food is easily attainable here on the banks. Now they've brought you to me, and I can't help but wonder why. You were hurt, so I had to help. I hope you are not afraid of me. I mean no harm, really." He sucked in a deep breath, the memories wearing on him. "I guess you could say I have been humbled from the years of isolation." He was watching her so intensely, speaking rapidly, making it clear that he was lonely and excited to be with another person.

Shade fought to look away. His face was smooth and serious, but his deep green eyes were wrought with sorrow. When she found him still watching her, she spoke. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't insult you."

"No, you didn't," said Ursad with a kind smile.

It was alarming to look at him at first, but she could see his handsome features underneath all of it, and in a peculiar way, found him striking. Time had not withered this man. He was preserved in the prison he'd made for himself. _I wonder if he really was a prince. This is so strange,_ she thought to herself. A prince of the Santiran lands, of all things, the very place she needed to go.

"Ursad, I'm thirsty and hungry. I could use something to eat, if you have anything to share. Oh, do you know where my things are?"

He nodded as he turned toward the door. "I will get them for you. I left your pack near the fireplace to make sure it dried out a bit, though it seems impervious to water. I couldn't take anything out. It has a personalized lock charm on it and would not open for me. I do hope your things are not ruined." He ducked out the door, and Shade was left staring after him.

She suddenly became aware she was not wearing her own tattered, muddy clothes from before, but wearing soft cotton, drawstring pajama pants and an oversized tunic instead. They were clean and soft, but she pulled the blankets even tighter around herself. She tried not to imagine him changing her out of her soaked, dirty clothes. Squirming at the thought, she felt her cheeks flush red.

Ursad returned with a tray of fruit, a meat sandwich, and a cup of juice. Her stomach growled at the sight of the food. He set it gently in front of her, not smiling but extremely serious. She tried to smile and soon forgot her embarrassment. She settled in and started to inhale the meal. Food in Faerie seemed to taste so much better than in her world. She wondered if it was really better or if she was just ravenous having not eaten in hours, not to mention all the exertion of the journey. She chewed and ate so fast she started hiccupping. She guzzled down the juice, hoping to stave them off.

As Shade finished, she realized Ursad stayed and watched her. She was gorging herself, and now, embarrassed. She slowed her chomping to a moderate chew. Swallowing the last bite, she observed Ursad a little closer. Brilliant green eyes shone in the dim light of the room, piercing into her soul.

She raked her eyes over his hair of vines and leaves. It was so long, it tumbled down past his waist like tendrils of flowers. Would it hurt to pluck a leaf off the thin vines that draped him like a shroud and dangled over his shoulders? He was dressed in dark brown clothes that hung frayed and well worn, reminding her of peasant's clothing from fairytale stories.

Shade chuckled to herself. Maybe this was her 'fairytale' in a way. _Nothing is as it should be. Nothing is going the way it should be, for that matter._ The world was not normal here, and Shade wasn't sure she liked it that much. _And now, I'm lost._

"Is everything all right? Was the food good, Shade?" Ursad asked, breaking her thoughts and dragging her back to the present. She nodded and pushed the food tray away, signaling that she was done. Ursad promptly stood up, collected it, and left through the door. He was now smiling widely and humming softly with a happy skip in his step.

Shade shook her head. _Faery men are so strange!_ She sighed and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She grabbed the footboard and stood up slowly, feeling her legs wobble beneath her. Standing for a minute and relaxing her muscles, she breathed through the dull pain that resonated throughout her bones. It was a cold reminder of the chill of the river, making her shudder.

She glanced down at her fingers and flexed them. They felt slightly stiff but functional, the slight ache not bothering her much at all. She'd been counting her blessings. Somehow, she'd healed her horrendous injuries, or maybe her spirit guides had done what they'd promised.

_Thank you for this gracious gift._ Shade hoped that somehow they heard her.

Ursad entered the room, holding out her pack and the folded pile of clothes that she'd worn before. He'd washed, repaired, and neatly folded her dirty clothes. Shade gave him a small grin and let him place the pile on the bed next to her. "I took the liberty of repairing your clothes. The rocks nearly ripped them to shreds. Your pack is dry. I take it you don't want to be staying very long, which is really too bad. I would like to get to know you and hear your story. Like I said, I haven't had any company in such a long time." His voice drifted off, a longing clinging to his words.

When she didn't say anything, he continued. "I mean, you shouldn't hurry out. You're welcome to stay as long as you like, of course." He waited again, shifting nervously back and forth on his feet before turning to rush out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Shade laughed quietly. His nervousness seemed to calm her anxiety.

Rummaging through her pack, she pulled out a fresh set of clothes and stuffed her repaired rags into the backpack. She wondered if there was a shower or restroom in the little cabin. Slipping some house shoes on that she'd thrown into her pack, just in case, she opened the door and peeked out, calling to Ursad when she didn't find him there. "Is there a bathroom I can use? I could really use a shower."

"It's to your right," he called from an adjacent room.

Shade stepped out and looked down the darkened hallway. The walls were made of wood, twisting and curving in such a way as to create the rooms and halls. They must've been inside a large tree converted into a cottage. Still in awe, she retrieved her light stone from her pack and held it in front of her. The glowing light was bright in the dim surroundings and comforted her a bit. The hallway was not as long as it had looked in the dark. Entering the last door at the end of the hall, she found a modern-looking bathroom, nothing elaborate, but it was clean. She placed her clothes on the counter, along with the light stone, which continued to glow. She smiled and was glad it didn't need to stay in contact with her to stay lit. She whispered a soft thanks to it and turned the shower on.

_I wonder how this all works? There isn't any electricity in the cabin, but it appears to have modern conveniences._ It was still hard to take in the idea that magic and faeries were real, even after everything she'd been through and seen. The water ran over her skin, the heat and steam reviving her with every drop. Pure bliss.

When Shade was done, she returned down the hall to her room, slipped in, and put her things away. She put her shoes on and held her backpack in one arm as she left the room to check out the rest of the house and find Ursad. The main room was small but cozy; a blazing fire crackled on one side of the room in a simple fireplace. There was one reading chair made out of old red velvet, and it sat in front of the fire, along with a fluffy couch placed on the right side of the room. It had a warm, cotton throw blanket sprawled across it with bits of yarn loosened from its edges. On the left stood a small table and two chairs made out of wood, which appeared to be hastily nailed together. The wood was smooth and worn, showing signs of age.

Ursad sat in one of the chairs and had his hands on his face when she entered the room. He pulled his hands away and stood up suddenly when he realized she approached. He looked momentarily distressed, but composed himself immediately.

"Oh, you're done already? I guess you will want to be leaving, then." Sinking back into his chair, he looked devastated. His green eyes glowed with the fire dancing in them, his face darkening.

"Yes, I have to. I wanted to thank you for your hospitality. I don't know what would've happened to me if you hadn't found me." She stopped. He looked almost agitated at her words. She bit her lip nervously and approached the chair that sat opposite of him. Dropping her pack, she sat down and looked up at him. "Ursad?"

"Yes?" His voice sounded quiet and dejected.

"What's wrong? Are you upset? Did I do something wrong?"

His green eyes drifted up to meet hers. She realized that his cheeks were wet with tears and waited uncomfortably for a response. She felt compelled to stay. _A moment or two wouldn't hurt._

"Ursad?" she said, but he didn't respond.

"You don't have to go. You're safe here. Whatever was chasing you will not find you here. I have wards all around this area that prevent even other faeries from wandering in or knowing of your presence. You don't have to go and risk your life again, Shade. Stay here. Stay here forever, please?" His hands grasped the table while his knuckles turned white with the strain.

Shade studied them, moving her eyes carefully back to his face. She shook her head, feeling suddenly drowsy, like she'd been drugged. _No, I'm just feeling really tired, that's all_. "Ursad, I can't do that. I have people counting on me... I've been asked to do something, and I can't give up. I have to do this, or the land of Faerie faces a war between the two faerie courts. Queen Zinara needs me to get to the fountains of the Santiran lands and get the magic water to help them keep the Unseelie court from waging war against them. If I stay, the war would spill out of Faerie and into the mortal world. I live in that world, and my family does, too. I can't let that happen, Ursad. I can't." The warm spill of tears streamed down her cheeks as she spoke of her family. She missed them more than ever at that moment.

Ursad clasped his hands together on the table, his eyes no longer flaring, but once again filled with sadness. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ever asked you to stay here. I know you're meant for great things. I can feel it. It's selfish of me to ask such things from you." He frowned but handed her a handkerchief.

She wiped her face, blowing her nose and sniffling. Standing again, she felt her exhaustion growing. _When will I be able to go home and sleep in my own bed?_ she thought sadly, frustrated beyond belief. She looked at Ursad, and an idea came to her. "You could help me, you know."

Ursad jerked his head up. He seemed to be wondering what was going through her mind but decided to ask instead. "What do you mean, Shade?"

"You're a prince of the Santiran lands. You would know the way to the fountains, wouldn't you? I don't know the way, but you could take me there, couldn't you? Please? My friends will probably be heading that way, and I could catch up." Shade found herself sitting forward in the chair, surprised at how eager she was for him to agree to the idea. She took a hold of his hands, flashing her hopeful eyes at him. "I've been feeling lonely and lost, too. It would be nice to a have friend with me."

He glanced down at their hands weaved together. Shade pulled back, her face flushed with heat and her stomach fluttering in an exhilarating way, making her wonder why this was happening. Maybe it was because she'd never had a man look at her like this before, with eyes full of hope and maybe even desire. She glanced away, focusing on her hands now folded in her lap. _Don't make something out of nothing... he's just a friend._

"Okay, I'll help you," he said.

Shade's face lit up as she jumped from her chair and hugged him, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Whoa, any tighter and I might not make the journey," Ursad chuckled, sounding winded. "I have to say, your enthusiasm is contagious."

"Oh, sorry about that." She loosened her grip and stepped back. "You won't regret this, Ursad. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I don't know what I would've done without your help." She beamed, enjoying his quiet smile. She fought the urge to hug him again, settling for a curt nod. She wasn't feeling exhausted anymore, but revived and ready to get started. "When should we go?"

"We can go now. Wait a moment, though." He opened a cabinet on the wall by the sink and rummaged through it. Tin cups and miscellaneous papers trailed out and clamored on the floor. Shade pressed her lips together, not wanting to laugh aloud and hurt his feelings. _What a mess_ , she thought. His place was cozy but cluttered.

"Here we go!" He pulled out a piece of folded parchment that looked like it'd seen too many years. He unfolded and shook it, letting dust puff out into the air. Coughing a little, he cleared his throat and laid the parchment out on the table. It was a map, another map of the faerie lands. It was extremely detailed, down to the tree stumps, and showed some rarely used paths.

Shade's eyes widened as she absorbed the amazing drawings and unusual names that were scattered throughout the parchment. She reached out and slid her finger over the area labeled "Santiran Fountains." "That's where I need to be." She glanced up and smiled at him, receiving his answering smile.

"We're here now." He traced the crescent of Solare's Beach and followed it down a crooked blue line. "This stream is the small river near where I found you." He traced the trail that led through what looked like a small town or village, past a small mountain range, and to a palace of stone near a much larger mountain range, which bordered all of Faerie.

"Yes, how long do you think it would take us to get there?" Shade asked, feeling the excitement flutter under her skin. They couldn't be that far from the fountains.

"It's a day and a half hike to reach the fountains. We can spend the night in the town of Genoden. The road is not what I'm afraid of, though." He paused, watching Shade's face fall. "The trail is filled with dark creatures and is probably already being watched by the Unseelie soldiers. We will have to sneak past them to reach the base of the Santiran Mountains, where the fountains are located. Staying off the road has its own dangers, too."

She pressed her lips together as she thought about what he was saying. _Can't any part of this be simple?_ she thought, irritated. She was quickly learning life wasn't always easy or fun.

Chapter Fifteen

DYLAN'S FOOT SLIPPED as he climbed down the cliff of loose, muddy rock and dirt. He cursed under his breath as he grasped the jagged rocks firmly, feeling them rip into his palms. Looking down to see how much farther he was before reaching the lower banks of the falls, he eased himself carefully. He saw Shade jump and could hardly believe she'd done that. He was so enraged; stabbing Blythe had felt almost surreal. It'd been only a second after she turned and faced him before he plunged his sword deep into her chest. Her deafening screech filled the air, while her warm crimson blood soaked his hands. When he pulled his sword back out, he savored watching her crumble to the ground. Death engulfed her thin body, shriveling it into a pile of ashes.

Reaching the edge of the cliff, Dylan looked down into the misty cloud of river spray but saw no sign of Shade. His blood screamed in his veins as a wave of pain crawled throughout his body, making him hunch over with its intensity. It let him know Shade was hurt, and the blood tie would drag him to her as long as it was in place. The farther he got from her, the more it would hurt.

He cursed under his breath, wishing he had reached her before she plunged into the falls. Glancing back at Blythe's withered body, or rather her pile of dust, he groaned. _At least the dryad witch queen will not get in the way again._ He knelt down, leaned over, and scanned the area for a way down the falls. He didn't like what he saw; the way was treacherous. Sheathing his sword and tightening the leather straps that held it across his chest, he strengthened his resolve. Unfortunately, this had to be done. He glanced around for the rest of the group, but the fight had pushed inland rather than toward the cliff. He could no longer hear anyone. _Damn, there's no time to be wasted._

He left them behind, afraid to wait too long to see if anyone survived—or didn't, for that matter. He had done well to protect Shade until this slip up. He mentally kicked himself for losing her. His hands burned and stung as he moved along the rocks, while warm blood oozed from his cuts where the stone shredded his palms. Dylan gritted his teeth but continued. He could heal later. Right now, getting down in one piece was the top priority. When his feet were firmly planted on the slick, muddy banks, he scanned for any signs of her, but there was nothing that surfaced in the water or on the surrounding banks.

_She has probably drifted away downstream,_ he thought. He ran as carefully as he could on the slippery rocks, splashing in small puddles and muddying up his boots to the knees. He didn't care. He had to find her, no matter where she was.

Dylan would never give up.

Chapter Sixteen

"WAIT!" URSAD WHISPERED urgently as he pulled Shade down behind some large boulders. She crouched next to him, reaching for her sword and quickly surveying the area.

"What? What is it? What do you see?" she asked. Her heart jumped in her chest as she waited, straining to hear a sound. The birds were singing, and the rustle of leaves swayed above them like an ocean wave. She saw and heard nothing. Irritated, she turned toward Ursad, but he had a hand up to stop her from speaking.

"Look." He pointed out in front of them. She followed his finger out into the woods and narrowed her eyes. The vegetation was thicker here, with small bushes, vines, and flowers covering the forest floor. Tall grasses shielded the dirt from the sunlight and made travel just that much more difficult. Shade scanned the area but shook her head. "I don't see anything."

Ursad placed a finger to his lips, pointing again slightly farther to the right. "There, do you see them? Right there, in the rays of light the sun has cast near the stream."

Shade looked again, not really expecting to see anything when she did. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped. _Unicorns!_ She watched the three creatures prance around the small stream. One was drinking the water, licking it up with its large, pink tongue. Its coat was a shiny brown, with a stark white mane and tail. The other two were all white, like the crystal snow in winter. Their coats shone almost like diamonds. Shade exhaled a breath in amazement and smiled widely.

Ursad was also smiling, admiring the creatures with awe.

"Are they actual unicorns? I thought that they didn't exist. Wow!" Shade turned back to watch them after Ursad nodded. One of the white ones nuzzled the brown one then also began lapping at the water. They neighed happily, unaware of the watchers before them. Their long legs moved gracefully through the tall grasses, and their glistening horns reminded Shade of the swirls of a candy cane stick. She felt an almost uncontrollable urge to touch one. Her fingers itched as she clenched her hands into fists and fought the compulsion to stand and walk straight toward them. She didn't want to frighten them but didn't know why she felt this way.

"Come on Shade. Unicorns like their privacy. They're a rare sight. I've seen these three many times, but that's only because I live near here. I thought you might like them. It's quite a gift that they're allowing you to see them, but we have to get going. It will be dark all too soon."

Shade shook her head. "But I... can I touch them, Ursad? They're the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Let me touch them, please!" she cried, her body trembling as she moved forward, filled with childlike excitement.

Ursad instantly had a hold of her arm and tugged, shaking his head. "Shade, look at me. Their beauty is unparalleled. It's part of their appeal, but if a human touches them, it could prove fatal. They will charm you then stab you through the heart. Only a winged unicorn would ever accept a rider, and as you can see, these are not of that breed. We must move on, Shade! You're bespelled. Let it go. Will it away." He tugged harder.

Shade felt herself needing to walk toward them but followed Ursad until they were out of sight, and the overpowering urge subsided. "What _was_ that, Ursad? Why show me the unicorns in the first place, if they can kill me? Really, what was the point if you were just going to pull me away?" An overwhelming gloom stuck to her as tears glistened in her eyes. Her weakness seemed so obvious, and she hoped he wouldn't laugh.

"The unicorns are gorgeous, yes, and they might seem harmless... but like the sirens of mythology, they lure you to your death. It's best if you do not think of them anymore. I just thought that it would be good that you saw them, so you could see and feel the weight of their pull, and know just how dangerous they can be. If you were by yourself, who knows what would've happened?" Ursad cut down some of branches around them as he spoke. The forest's greenery thickened as they progressed. It was almost as thick as a jungle now.

"Well, thank you, Ursad. It's weird to be drawn to an animal like that. I feel strange, like I'm waking up from a drugged sleep, or like I'm hung-over, not that I really ever have gotten drunk or anything like that... You know, it's just an expression."

Shade yawned and pulled out her flask of water. The cool, sweet fluid met her lips and always seemed to chase the sadness away. She felt instantly better, revived. _I wonder why my energy fluctuates so much._ It made her think about feeling drugged at Ursad's cottage. A moment or so later, she shrugged off her slight concern. _I'm probably not healed completely._ She was still shocked that she'd actually jumped into a raging, rushing waterfall.

"Yes. Not everything in Faerie is what it seems. Beauty can be evil, and kindness can be a trap. Eating food from a Faerie could trap you here forever." He paused, glancing back at her for a moment before continuing. "Dancing to music in Faerie could make you dance until you die. Sprites and pixies can be quite devilish and conniving. The faerie courts may be glamorous, but everyone has their own agendas at heart. Goblins can be kind or wicked, friend or foe. It all depends. Entire dwellings could be just under your feet, and you wouldn't even know it. Just remember, Shade- trust no one and you'll be all right." He swung his machete like sword again, slicing the underbrush out of their way.

"Does that apply to you, too?" Shade chuckled, teasing Ursad but throwing him a playful smile. He continued to clear the underbrush without saying anything. She watched him, wondering what he was thinking. "So is it true? Faeries can't lie?" Shade dodged a fallen log and turned into the slim openings of the grass that Ursad made.

"Tell a lie? Well, faeries have a funny way of stretching the truth. Most, you'll find, try to be honest. You can also frequently run into the type that gets off by messing with your mind." Ursad paused, rubbing his arm and breathing slightly hard. He obviously wasn't used to so much physical activity and most likely preferred to hang around his cottage as opposed to traveling. "We're almost to the small faery town of Genoden. It's about a half an hour away. When we get close, use the cloak that I gave you and pull your hood over your head. We don't want any unwanted attention." He continued through the brush as she pulled the cloak out.

It was dirt brown and very plain in design. The brooch clip at the neck was like the wing of a bird, the bronze shimmering in the sunlight. She draped it over her arm and hugged the bulk of it to her chest. At least this would definitely not make her stand out. Walking behind Ursad, she could hear him curse the hard labor, crunching on the fallen twigs and debris. She focused on what he told her about faeries and lies, but more on the part about unwanted attention. Her mind pushed on to the thought of Genoden and what possibilities lay ahead for her there.

" _Fey have a funny way of stretching the truth,"_ Ursad had just told her. The part about them messing with the mind alarmed her the most. As they traveled closer to the town of Genoden, she didn't think an old hooded cloak was going to protect her. Even so, Shade knew it was probable that she was going to get attention, wanted or not.

Chapter Seventeen

THE TOWN REALLY wasn't big at all. One could hardly call it a town. It was more like a small village, a one-street wonder. Its cobblestone streets and wooden houses reminded Shade of European cottages with thatch and ceramic tiles for roofs. There were people scurrying about all over the place. The market was the main street, and the second floors of the shops were apartments with living quarters. Shade pulled her cloak around her, hoping the anonymity of the crowd would make her almost invisible. She stayed glued right behind Ursad, holding a corner of his cloak as they weaved their way through the streets of vendors.

The faeries dressed in any and every color, from vibrant to drab, but it seemed the brighter the better. Some were without cloaks, showing off their slender, pale, perfect, and muscular bodies. Ears and necks were adorned with glittering jewels and beads. They had long hair in braids, with adornments of gold and silver. Most had eyes like Blythe, large and insect-like, but there were many who used glamour to appear more human. Some lived in a nearby human city and were just used to staying in their glamoured forms. Shade nodded in acknowledgement of Ursad's quick lessons on fey culture, whispered into her ear as they treaded along.

Shade scanned the faces in the crowd for her friends, without any luck. Something about what Ursad said began to bother her. No matter how hard she thought about it, nothing would come to her so she shook it off.

They passed by stands of fresh fruit and vegetables, collecting a bag full of groceries as they went. The day was fading quickly, and the late afternoon sun burned down on them as it was setting behind the houses. Ursad whispered the need to find shelter for the night and said he would take her to one of the local inns for travelers where they could freshen up. She was quiet and nodded again, too in awe of the folks around them to say anything. The air buzzed with noise and excitement.

The inn was nestled on the town's main street. Ursad checked in, paying the innkeeper behind a bar counter without so much as a glance from her. She was plump and had her long, red hair bound into a tight bun at the base of her neck. Long strands hung from it, loosened from its tightness from the arduous workday. The rest lay draped down her shoulders and back. Her locks were a fiery red with a touch of orange. Shade never met anyone with that color hair, at least not naturally. The woman wore a work apron over her plain-jeweled blue dress. After handing Ursad a key, she waved them toward a set of stairs behind the bar area. Ursad nodded and thanked her, motioning for Shade to follow. They ascended the stairs quickly, before anyone could notice the unusual pair.

Reaching the room, Shade fell against the door as it closed. She sighed, happy to be out of the crowded bar. She felt like everyone's eyes were staring right at her, even though they probably weren't. She wondered if anyone knew who she was and what she was trying to do. After being ambushed and attacked twice in such a short period of time, she was starting to feel somewhat paranoid. _I need to just relax. They probably weren't looking at me and have no idea who I am or what I'm doing._

"You all right, Shade?" Ursad stood by the window, watching the crowds swirling below. He glanced up at her, his green eyes reflecting the last streams of sunlight.

"Yes, I'm fine, just tired, I guess. I was just wondering what happened to my friends. I thought they might have found me by now, but I don't know where they are." She stared at the single bed in the center of the room. Pressing her lips together, she felt the blood rush up to her face. She kept her eyes low and knelt down to rummage through her backpack.

Ursad watched her, a small smile playing on his lips. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on that couch over there." He motioned to the dark green couch with threadbare upholstery.

Shade frowned and shook her head at it, almost letting a laugh escape. "Wow... that looks mighty comfy! Not gonna fight you for it. It's all yours, Ursad," she said sarcastically, failing miserably to suppress a laugh.

Ursad rolled his eyes, but his smile widened. Shaking his head, he walked over to the couch, pushed on it to test its strength, and laid out on it like a large, lazy lap dog.

Shade continued to laugh and pulled out her pajamas. She headed to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She was tired, but the joking recharged her. Relaxing her shoulders, she turned to stare at the mirror and study her own thin and pale reflection. The journey was taking a toll. The exhaustion seemed permanently stamped on her face. She was gaunt and thinner than before, making her avert her eyes from the mirror. She didn't like her reflection anymore. Disturbed, she made efforts to avoid it.

It seemed like a chore just to put on her soft flannel pajamas. She suddenly felt drained again. Closing her eyes, she thought about everything and everyone. Ursad turned out to be a good friend, but she worried about her other friends.

_Where are they? Are they even looking for me? Maybe they think I'm dead and have retreated to the Guildrin caverns after all,_ she thought, almost feeling defeated. _And what about Dylan?_ Her mind pressed with urgency. She wondered if their blood tie affected him when they separated. She didn't feel anything at all, but hoped he was at least okay. She sighed, feeling a slight ache in her chest for her friends. Even Dylan's annoying presence was missed, making her feel his loss even more.

Shade scratched her head and squeezed her eyes shut. _Darn that Blythe! What the hell does she want with me?_ Shade's eyes flew open, remembering what the Dryad said about dragging her to the Unseelie's Queen. What did _she_ want with her? They probably wanted the magic of the Santiran fountains for themselves. Why else would they even bother with her? _Maybe they just want it to have some sort of advantage over the Guildrin court._ Shade moaned, rolling her head around and massaging her neck, easing out some knots.

She looked back at the mirror and felt an odd sense of déjà vu. Reaching her hand out toward the smooth surface made her heart race before she abruptly yanked it back. The mirror did nothing; its hard surface lacked the ripples of Darren's mirror. Nothing but her careworn face stared back, but her feelings of shock and fear were evident.

_I can't believe I'm afraid of mirrors now._ She was scaring herself. Darren was far, far away now. No one knew where she was, especially the one with the powers of mirror travel. _He can't hurt me now._

She clicked the door open and walked back into the large room, their sanctuary for the night, dropping her clothes into her bag before walking toward the windows. Ursad must have opened them. A soft breeze poured in, lifting the curtains up like floating ribbons. She could hear the murmur of the crowd outside with a random shout or two every now and then. Shade stood just inside the window, afraid to peek outside. The sweet gusts of air caressed her cheeks, sweeping her now loose hair up into a streaming mass, tickling her neck. Closing her eyes for a moment, she relished the peace in this busy place.

"They wouldn't understand you. You and I have that in common. No one out there understands. We're different, but that makes us the same," said Ursad quietly.

She turned and studied Ursad, who was sitting on the couch watching her. They had yet to turn on the lights in the room, but his emerald eyes shone like two green beams of light. He stared intently into her face as their eyes met. Ursad then stood and walked toward her, but she didn't move from the spot, even when he came face to face with her.

Shade examined his very human hands as they reached up to cup her face. The blood rushed to her face, but she couldn't look away from his piercing eyes. She reached out and stroked the rough, bark-like skin on his face, running her fingers over the bridge of his nose and down over the softness of lips that remained. Glancing up, she took in the very human eyes that were staring back.

He was a man trapped in a shell that was not his. She could feel the deep resonating hunger and fear that ran through him as they touched. Something like sadness filled her inside, like she could feel him drowning inside of himself. She pulled away, searching for air to quench her burning lungs. His intensity was suffocating. Immediately, she felt like she was waking up from a dream. Groggy and confused, she backed into the bed and sat, looking back up at him. Inquiring with her eyes for answers, her head filled with suspicion.

"Ursad, are you using magic on me?" Shade waited, looking at her new companion, hoping to hear something comforting come from his mouth. His head dropped down as his gaze fixed onto the worn floorboards. The grain of wood snarled and wove through every plank, the veins of a long-dead tree. Ursad backed away and slipped onto the couch, his face still and calm.

"I'm sorry, Shade. I couldn't help it. I thought I could make you stay with me back at my place and here, too, but I can see that my magic is not strong enough to work against you. Your power, it pushes against mine so easily. I... I'm so sorry, Shade. I didn't mean to ever harm you in any way. I hope you believe me. I just can't be alone again." His face hung down, and his hands came up to cradle it as he sank to the floor.

"Ursad, how could you? What do you mean, now and back at your house? What did you do? What have you _done_?" She glared at him, unmoving and dark. When he didn't respond, she ran over to him, but managed to hold herself back. "What did you do, Ursad? Answer me!" She pulled at his arm, making him look at her once more. Green-tinted tears spilled down his rough cheeks, glinting in the dim light.

"Shade, please don't be mad. I thought you were just a human. I couldn't have known that you were part faery! I would have never tried to trap you if I knew that. That's probably the whole reason it didn't work." His fear leaked into his voice.

"What do you mean? _What_ , exactly, didn't work?" Shade started to back up, afraid to know what he would say next.

"When humans enter the land of Faerie, they can be trapped here forever, especially if they eat something, food or drink, from a faery. If the faery who gives a human food or a drink wants them to stay, and the human eats what is offered, they belong to that faery forever, or until the faery lets them go. I thought if you ate my enchanted food, you would not be able to leave, and you would stay longer... and I wouldn't be alone anymore." Ursad pulled himself up and knelt on the floor before her, grabbing her hand and rubbing his cheek against it. "I swear I would never harm you! You have to believe it, Shade. Please don't go. I just wanted someone to talk to. No one ever looks at me like you do, without disgust, without judgment. I wanted it to stay like that forever."

Shade backed away out of his grasp, pressing against the footboard of the bed as she sank to the floor. Her sobs poured out as she curled up into a tight ball, hugging her legs to herself. He crawled toward her but stopped when she held her hand up and he froze.

"Don't touch me, Ursad." Shade sniffled and wiped her tears on her sleeves. She glimpsed up at him. He was sitting on his knees with his head hanging down, a beaten man. He was hard to figure out, looking small and harmless in his hunched-over defeat. She huffed, wondering what she was going to do. It seemed it wasn't going to stop, all the hell she'd gone through the past week, and it wasn't going to get any better. The tricks, treachery, and lies were everywhere. At least Ursad hadn't tried to kill her, but what of his betrayal?

What if it worked and she became his slave? She shivered at the thought and held back her last sob. She felt violated and needed time to think. "Are you done then, trying to mess with me?" Shade asked after a few moments. "Like you said, your magic doesn't work, right? You can't keep me here. You don't own me." She wiped off more drops of tears, watching him, and waited for his answer.

Ursad's eyes were wide with surprise and fear. "Yes, I... I promise. I'm done. I would never try to hurt you. Please understand. It was foolish of me to try any magic on you when you have been so kind to me." He reached into his coat and brought out a soft, baby blue handkerchief. He crept toward her and held it out, trying not to get too close.

Shade snatched it from him and watched him jump back, concern and relief both flashing across his face. "You better not try it again. I can feel it every single time. I guess I am part faery after all." She paused and looked at him before letting out a laugh that made him jump. "It didn't work, so it was for nothing, and I have nothing to fear from you at all." She blew her nose and stood up, frowning as he pulled himself back up onto the couch and sat, wary of her.

"Tomorrow, we're going to the Santiran Fountains, Ursad. From there, you're on your own again. Just take me there, and then we're done. The maps you showed me, they're correct, right?"

He nodded sadly.

"Okay, then. I want to get some sleep now, so goodnight. "

He nodded again and pulled a blanket from the arm of the couch before lying down and folding his arm for a pillow.

Shade slid down into the sheets and pulled the pillow around her head. She pressed her face into it, wishing she could dig her way into the fluffy feathers of it and fade away into the softness. She reached over and turned off the lamp by the bedside. Staring out into the darkness now covering the windows, she gazed at the soft moonlight, a small beacon from the outside world. The curtains danced in the gusty, warm breeze. It was spring now in Faerie, constantly changing with the hours. She'd never get used to the weirdness of this place.

Drifting off to sleep, she listened to sound of Ursad's slow and rhythmic breathing. Cocooned in her warm blankets, she slipped away into dreams.

Chapter Eighteen

"SHADE."

"Who's there?"

"Shade, it's us, your spirit guides. You must hurry! The Unseelie court moves to stop you. You must get to the fountains tomorrow and retrieve the magic waters quickly!"

"What then? What do I do with it? Where do I go? How do I get back to the Guildrin Caves?"

They smiled at her with their ethereal faces and smooth hair infinitely suspended in midair, like there was a silent unseen wind that blew just for them.

"You will know. Dylan is waiting for you. He needs you, Shade. You and only you can save him."

"Where is he?" Shade furrowed her brow at the sisters, worry permeating her thoughts.

"Just follow your path. It will take you straight to him. Remember, when all is dark, you are your own light. Don't forget the stones Ilarial gave you. They can make a path where none can be seen."

Shade looked at them, her face filled with confusion. Why was it they never made sense? Their faces left no hint of what exactly they meant. She shouted out to them, but her voice was gone. They shook their heads and smiled, waving a goodbye. Shade screamed to them but felt the grey and the darkness grow around her, obscuring them from her sight.

****

SHADE WOKE WITH a start, her heart drumming in her chest. Her pillow was stuffed and wadded into a ball under her head as she lay on her stomach. She looked around the dark room. The moonlight was dim now, and dark grey misted across the room. It was probably near morning. She sat up on her elbows, looking toward Ursad, fast asleep on the small couch by the wall, gently breathing.

The short rays of dawn mixed with moonlight as the minutes ticked by. Stretching, she stood up and shuffled over to the open window. The streets were quiet; only the occasional person with baskets or a pushcart filled with fruit meandered about. The morning market was prepping itself for the needs of many. Shade breathed in and felt a sense of peace filling her with each inhalation. She turned and grabbed her bag before heading to the bathroom.

When she emerged, the soft sunlight filled the windows. She showered and brushed her long hair into a ponytail. With her fresh jeans on and a hoodie pulled over a t-shirt to keep the morning chill out, she pulled on socks and sneakers before tying the laces. Shoving everything back into her bag, she glanced at Ursad, still fast asleep on the couch. His soft snores told her that he was definitely out, making her grin and shake her head. She was ready to go, and he was out like a light. It was hard to be angry with him when he looked like that, innocent and peaceful. However, she wasn't ready to forgive what he had done.

She looked at the pile of maps on the small table next to the couch, scooping them up and placing them into her pack. Donning her cloak, she headed toward the door but stopped. She turned and watched Ursad sleeping, dead to the world. Leaving her pack by the door, she approached him, staring at his rough face and soft eyelids. He seemed so calm and almost handsome, deep in sleep and dreaming.

She wondered what he saw behind his lids, in a world that was his alone. She hated to leave him like this, without a goodbye, but she had to go. His intentions weren't honest, and she couldn't tolerate that. Deep in her thoughts, she squeezed her eyes shut. Shade liked him, but felt betrayed by his magic. It hurt that he'd done such things without her knowledge. He could've been so much more than just a friend. Flinging her eyelids open, she knew what she had to do. Bending down, she let her lips glide softly over his still very human-like ones. One lonely kiss for the road.

She stood back and saw that he hadn't stirred and remained oblivious. She silently wished him a goodbye as she left the room. At the door, she swung her pack onto her back and shut the door softly behind her. As it clicked, she never looked back again, but she'd forgiven him after all.

The streets filled up quickly. She pulled the hood of her long cloak over her face, hiding her hooded sweatshirt and jeans effectively enough. She looked around and watched the people scurry by, none of them giving her a moment's glance.

_Well, I'm alone again._ She breathed in deeply and walked toward the edge of town, feeling her newfound determination filling her with purpose.

Shade felt no fear and embraced the anonymity of the crowd. It was a most welcome protection. As their magic swirled around her, she drew it in for comfort. She continued to weave around the people and made it to the edge of town. Walking along the road, she followed it until the town fell out of sight. Now she truly was alone. The gravel crunched under her feet, and the leaves of the trees rustled franticly in the breeze. Pulling out the maps she'd taken from Ursad, a feeling of regret washed over her as she thought about the way she left. After what he'd done to her... no, leaving was the only way she could forgive him. If this whole experience taught her one thing, it was that forgiving wasn't the same as forgetting.

It was time to get a move on. Obviously, this wasn't the kind of place where you made lifelong friends _. I've got something more important to do, anyway._ She smoothed out one of the maps on a flat boulder that was close to her height. She traced her finger along the road that she followed out of the town. According to the map, she was heading north toward the mountains. She could see the great mountain peaks just beyond the forest. They seemed to be taunting her, appearing closer than they really were.

Sighing heavily, she folded the maps up neatly and placed them into her backpack. Pulling out an apple and a roll of bread at the same time, she munched on her small breakfast as she walked briskly along the road.

The day wore on, and she stopped frequently, checking the maps and refueling on the many snacks and drinks she carried with her. She made sure to put any garbage back into her bag in a trash bag or bury it. Frequent stopping to listen out to see if anyone was following her ate up the time quickly. She would go many miles on the desolate road before she came across anyone, then she'd crouch behind trees or fallen logs in the tall grasses of the forest floor until they passed. She wondered if any of them were Ursad. Shade highly doubted it since they all were on carriages or small carts that wheeled on by.

She thought about him constantly and his unfortunate curse, wondering what his real face looked like. She didn't like the fact that she'd left him alone again, especially when they agreed to travel together. She shook her head. It was unavoidable. _He screwed up._ She wasn't going to have people around her who she couldn't trust completely. Not now, when she was in so much danger.

Glancing around the lonely road, she pulled her pack tighter to her back. It was lonelier still without him. Where was everyone? Her thoughts wandered to Sary, Braelynn, Ewan, Stephan, Than, Soap, Jack, and Dylan. Somehow, probably because of the blood bind, she knew Dylan was not returning to Teleen without her. He was out here somewhere, with or without her friends. She hoped she'd run into him soon. The forest seemed so vast and lonely without them joking beside her and chatting vibrantly, making her miss them terribly.

A sound made her pause as she listened to the woods. She heard the animals scurrying around and the birds singing high up, hidden in the canopy. Swearing she heard something, she turned, straining her ears for any little noise. The blue sky above was swallowed by the trees as the branches swayed in the soft breeze. The strong scent of pine and damp mulch swam in the air, circling around and penetrating her nostrils. Nothing showed itself, so she trekked on.

It happened slowly, but she realized she'd been changing and actually was enjoying the woods. So much happened to her, she barely noticed this subtle difference in her personality. Somehow, though, it was clear she was now different. Her life was altered and would never be the same.

She rubbed her arms in the coolness of the late morning breezes. The altitude grew with each step as she walked toward the mountain range in the distance. _I'll have to use Dylan's blanket soon._ Already it felt colder as she edged closer to the Santiran Mountains.

As the day wore on, Shade decided not to walk on the gravel road anymore as it was becoming congested with travelers. More traffic could be heard as carts and bands of people shuffled by, heading away from the mountains mostly, in the opposite direction of her. She wondered why there weren't as many people headed toward the mountains. The tension of possibly being seen and not knowing if the others were harmless or trouble was fraying her nerves. She'd hide behind trees until the road emptied and the people passed.

At one point, the road filled with soldiers, and she'd hidden behind a large fallen tree for about half an hour before she could get moving again. The soldiers wore armor similar to Blythe's army, and the sight of them made her heart jump and her breath tighten inside her chest.

The flashback of the fight in the river lands made her want to vomit. She had to breathe in slowly and close her eyes, praying she wasn't going to be found by this strange militia. Who knew where their loyalties laid? She was relieved when they'd moved on without a moment's glance in her direction. Shade was paranoid after that and dashed between the trees, pausing often to listen for any movement or snap of twigs. Every noise made her jump. It was hard to stay focused. She was starting to feel exhausted as the day wore on. She was about ready to hike farther from the road to camp for the night when she heard something that made her skin crawl.

"That little bitch killed Blythe! When I get my hands on her scrawny little neck, I'm gonna snap it like the twig she is!" a husky male voice echoed through the trees.

"Yeah, and give her a stab for my friend Mike. He died as well. Those warriors were no joke. Where did she find them? That red-haired one got me on the shoulder, and the darn stitches hurt! That's okay, though. I knocked her out before she got too much of me. Wish I could've finished her off. Whoever called retreat was a chicken shit," another harsh voice replied.

Shade's eyes widened at the description matching Sary's looks. She gripped her backpack straps until her knuckles were white and her fingers ached in protest, fighting the urge to scream. She wanted to pull out her sword and charge the two soldiers. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing again, shifting on her legs, which were going numb from crouching too long. Shade cringed as she heard the snap of a twig under her sneaker. She held her breath and waited.

"Hey, did you hear that? What was that?"

"It's probably a squirrel stupid!" the second the soldier snapped.

"Shut up, moron. Someone's there," the first solider responded, clearly sounding irritated.

The scratch of metal sliding out of a sheath made Shade swallow hard, her throat tight with nerves. _Oh no_!

Now they were whispering, so she couldn't hear them any longer. Their careless footsteps crunched on bits of wood and dead mulch under their boots. As their steps grew closer, her panic intensified. She heard them come to a stop, but they didn't speak. They seemed to be waiting for her to betray herself. The wait made her impatient, and she decided to risk peeking over the log to get their position.

She spotted them not too far from her. They were scanning an area to the right, but soon enough, they would be near enough to see her. She glanced behind her, into the endless forest for an escape route.

"There she is! Get her!" They grunted as they turned toward her and began sprinting, dodging other logs and debris. Shade's eyes widened, and she bolted, running as fast as she could through tangled branches, twigs, and wet leaves.

"Stop! You're in a lot of trouble! Stop and we won't kill you," one of the men called. He did not sound very convincing.

Yeah, that's gonna make me come to a halt.

She jumped over boulders and logs, occasionally slipping and sliding as the terrain became uneven and full of dips and hills. Falling to her hands and scraping them on twigs and rocks, she felt no pain but was sure it was going to leave marks. She came to a rock bed where the boulders were enormous and bobbed out all across the land. She hopped on the flattened tops, nearly losing her step as her feet slid over the smooth surfaces. Her arms waved in the air, catching her balance just in time before she fell into one of the crevices.

"Get back here, you little... Damn! Reike, my foot's caught! Get her!" One soldier was struggling to pull his foot from a crack between two boulders. He waved at his partner to follow her.

Shade glanced back, but was near the end of the boulders when she missed her step and slammed against one side of a large stone. She tried to grip the rugged rock but only scraped her hands as she slipped down into the large hole between the rocks. She slid and slid, down under the boulders, until the hole morphed into a tunnel, sending her spiraling down into darkness.

Chapter Nineteen

THERE WAS NOTHING but darkness and silence surrounding her. Shade was face down on the fine, sandy dirt floor. Sparks twinkled in her vision as she moved, causing her to slow down and breath through the wave of dizziness. She must have hit her head when she landed. Moving her arms under her body, she pushed herself into a sitting position, or what felt like it, because the darkness seemed to cancel out her sense of direction. This did not help her stomach. She lurched the last bits of her afternoon snack into the black dirt around her.

_Yuck!_ Shade spit onto the ground, trying to expel the remnants of the nasty taste in her mouth. Breathing in deeply, she sat up again, balancing herself with her hands in the dirt. Bending over to let some more blood rush into her throbbing head, she let her senses normalize. _I think need a doctor or something._ As the moments passed, the pounding lessened, and her stomach settled. She was able to sit straight and fished through all her pockets for the light stone. Finding it in the back pocket of her jeans, she wrapped her hand around it, willing it to life.

The soft glow grew with every breath she took. Her fear subsided just a bit when the light brightened and showed more strength. Holding it in the center of her palm and stretching her fingers straight, it lit the room like a small lantern. The light was dim, but she could see that the room was rounded and made out of stone. Dirt, rocks, and debris littered the floor of the underground cave. She studied the smooth walls all around her, not seeing any exits or cracks in the stone. The ceiling where she was sure she'd come from was sealed and just as smooth as the walls.

What the...? How the hell do I get out of here? How the hell did I get in?

Shade once again scanned the room to no avail. It was like being inside a very hard bubble. She placed the stone in front of her in the dirt, thinking _Please, just keep glowing._ She prayed as she watched the warm yellow light, her only solace in the dark. She smiled, proud that she'd managed to do some sort of magic. She attempted to stand up and take a better look around, but the floating stars in her vision caused her to kneel back and wait out the dizziness.

After a few moments, Shade felt well enough to stand and was glad she didn't hit her head on the ceiling. Walking along the side of the walls, she felt along the stone, finding it rougher and grainier than the boulders aboveground. The bumps scraped against her already wounded and sore hands. After inspecting every inch of the surface, she was sure there was no way out. Spinning around with her heart pounding in her chest, she felt claustrophobic and frustrated. All kicking the stone wall and punching it with her hands gained her was more pain. Her hands were burning as her closed fists irritated her excoriated palms. Shade slumped to the floor, leaning against the cold rock. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked back. Her sighs echoed in the cool, still air. She could smell the dampness and mold intermingled within it.

The time ticked by, and she didn't know how long she rocked herself, but it was long enough for her quiet tears to dry up, staining her dirty cheeks. Even her hands stopped throbbing. She pulled off her pack and dug through it for some water, hoping that afterward, she might be able to think more clearly. Her ravenous chewing on a small snack filled the emptiness for a moment or two. She wished her spirit guides were still near and giving her much needed advice. It made her wonder why the attack caused her to expel them along with Darren. Rubbing her arms, the chilling air ran down her entire body. Pulling out Dylan's warm blanket, she wrapped it around her until just her eyes were visible from within its folds. The warmth provided by the blanket was instant, and her eyes were drooping with drowsiness, heavy with sleep.

Feeling the solitude pressing on her, Shade breathed in the faint scent of Dylan's skin on the blanket. She sighed and watched her light stone glow softly in the dark. _What now?_ She pulled out her sleeping bag from her tent and laid it on the soft dirt. Setting her pillow down, the exhaustion overwhelmed her body, and her bones ached from the events of the day. She hadn't realized how tired she'd become after being chased through the forest. Wrapping the blanket around once more, she drifted to sleep, hoping to find someone, even in her dreams.

****

SHADE'S EYES FLUTTERED open, adjusting to the blue flickering light in the room as it intermittently broke up the darkness. The rock seemed to bounce the glow around and reflect the blue coloring. She blinked again and sat up, confirming that she was still in her stone dungeon. Realizing her light stone wouldn't be as bright as the glow shining in the cave, she rubbed away the sleep from her eyes and looked around.

Did someone just call my name?

"Shade! It _is_ you! I knew you were close, but I never thought that you would be here!" a male voice said, filled with relief and eagerness. She stared at the figure; electricity crackled and flames radiated from him like a torch. She stood up quickly, wavering for a moment, eyes wide in disbelief.

_Dylan!_ It was Dylan, without glamour, aglow in the most amazing blue fire swimming along his skin. It licked the air around him.

"Dylan? How did you get here? How did you find me?" Her eyes scanned him, waiting for his still-familiar face to change into someone else. Her heart leapt with the utmost happiness at the sight of him. She smiled and tried to stand until a sway of dizziness changed her mind.

"I don't know. I came along an ancient riverbed with enormous boulders throughout it. I was compelled to be there, and I'd been tracking you for a while. I can feel when you've been in a place, almost like I'm experiencing a feeling of déjà vu. It felt so strong there, but I didn't even know where to look. Suddenly, the land opened up and sucked me down between the boulders, and here I am. That's never happened to me before, definitely a first." He paused, beaming at her. "I was meant to find you. I can't even explain it. It's the weirdest thing to fall and be right here with you. No, wait. Don't get too close. You might get burned." Shade retracted her hand, just realizing she'd been reaching out to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

He smiled and nodded. "It's ok. You know how we look without the glamour to encase our true bodies. If you were to touch me, I could hurt you."

Shade pressed her lips together, confusion flashing across her face. "Darren touched me when he was unglamoured, like you are now, and I didn't get burned. I asked Soap and Jack about it, and they had no answers for me. It makes me think that I might not be harmed if I do touch you." She admired his flames and took in his handsome face.

It was a mask of shock as he shook his head. "I don't know about that, Shade. Maybe it was a trick of his. He could do so many things with mirrors that would make you believe things were real, when they were really just illusion. He was a genius at that." Dylan's face was grim at the thought of his brother.

"No, I know because he was shocked when I didn't burn. He said that much, and I saw it in his eyes." Her eyes glazed over with the memory of the malice stamped on Darren's face. He was filled with so much pleasure when he'd seen the fear wash over her. She looked at Dylan and almost expected to see Darren standing before her. They were similar in appearance, but even as brothers, they didn't exactly look alike. They certainly didn't behave the same way.

"Well, if you must, Shade, I will tone the flames down. Then you can touch my skin with just a finger. That way it won't hurt you too much. Deal?"

She nodded and watched his flames shrink back into just embers glowing across his skin. She studied it and watched how his skin looked smooth and untouched under the heat. He watched her as she walked forward, extending her arm and hand up toward him. They both held their breath as she reached her finger up to his skin and slowly ran it up his arm. Dylan was still holding his breath when her soft touch reached him, seeming to freeze time.

_Nothing... is happening._ He felt warm, not hot. There was no pain, flying ash, or fear. She extended the rest of her fingers out to brush his forearm. His flames extended to full glow, and she remained unscathed. She brought her hand back and studied it. Dirt and drying scrapes peppered the skin across her hand but no burns or soot. She looked at Dylan, who was as stunned as she was. He was observing her intently, making her suddenly aware of his closeness.

"Dylan, nothing happened. What am I? Why am I protected from your fire?" She stared at him, awaiting an answer.

Dylan seemed to come back into himself, shaking off whatever was holding him in his thoughts. Gazing at her, he shook his head. "I... I don't know, Shade. I wish I knew. There are so few who can do what you just did, so very few. Most are just Teleen, but you...." He kept his head shaking back and forth in disbelief. "Amazing," he whispered and then looked back at her, a smile now hiding the seriousness of his face.

"Do you know what that means, Shade? You could marry a Teleen. You could, without difficulty, find a mate within our court. Being a female, you have no idea how rare you are, and how well you shall be received."

"What? I don't want to get married. Well, at least not yet. Where did that come from? I... I'm just a kid. Why would I even think of that yet?" She huffed, flustered at his statement. "Dylan, what do you mean there are so few who can do what I did? Do you mean the not getting burned part? Who else besides a Teleen can do that?" She waited and watched his smile fade just as fast as it had come.

"Our race is dying out, Shade. We can only marry another Teleen, and very few of us are able to have children. Only another race compatible with us would help strengthen our line. Our clan dies otherwise. The only other races of faeries that would even be compatible with us, strong enough to withstand our powers, are even rarer than the Teleen."

"Who are these people?" she asked impatiently. The look on his face was definitely disapproving that she'd even asked him.

"Changelings, for one thing, or elementals of fire, such as fire-witches. Finding someone like that is so rare. I have only known of one changeling and one elemental fire-witch ever, and they were paired already." He paused, narrowing his eyes at her. "Do you know if you are either of those, Shade?"

"Me? No, no way. If I am, I wouldn't know it. I mean, what's a changeling and an elemental witch? How would I know which one I am, if I am one of those?"

"Well," he offered, "a changeling is simple. They're capable of changing into anything they want to. Human, bear, squirrel, different types of fey, like Teleen, Enlors, which are sprites, or Gidals, which are trolls. Anything really. It's a rare ability, like I said. An elemental fire-witch is, well, a human mortal witch, in every meaning of the word, but with an affinity to fire. They can control it, wave it around, and send it roaring across a forest. Whatever you can imagine doing with it, they can do it. They can cast spells, charms, curses, and things of that nature. There are many kinds of witches, Shade, but rare is it to find elemental witches. They're special." His face darkened as his eyes met hers.

"Shade, if my people knew that you could be one of these kind of special individuals, especially since Darren exposed it with his attack, I have to warn you and let you know that upon returning to Teleen, all unmated, unmarried males in my race will be courting you for your attention. You'll probably be bombarded by them, pushed to choose one of them for a mate."

"What? Oh no, no, no. They can't make me do anything. I won't choose anybody. I won't be staying there at all. I wouldn't return there after what happened, and besides, I'm going home."

Dylan nodded and sighed. "Yes, Shade, of course you will want to go home, but I must warn you. Even at home, you will not be left alone. Teleen men are relentless. Our Queen will not stop them, either, not until you choose one of them as your mate. Only then will it be ordered by our Queen to leave you alone. It is vital for the survival of our people. I'm sorry, Shade. At the very least, I had to warn you before that happens."

Shade let her face screw up in disgust. Marriage was the least of her worries. She wished he hadn't said a thing about it at all. She turned and slumped down onto her sleeping bag again. She still felt tired and was now irritated on top of it all. She stared up at the ceiling, lit up in Dylan's glow. The whole cave was flickering in the light. There was still no sign of a way out. She pulled the blanket over her head and curled up into a ball.

"Dylan, how are we getting out of this place? I looked everywhere. I don't even see where I came in! What is this place? I feel claustrophobic, and it's cold down here." She closed her eyes and waited.

"It's a place to forget oneself or forget about someone. It's either a blessing or a curse, depending how you look at it. This cave is one of the ancient prisons of Faerie. People were left here for years to forget about themselves, wither away, or to emerge fresh, with a clean slate. It's an immortal's dungeon, or oubliette, Shade. I am surprised you stumbled across one. Usually, they can trap only immortals." He paused. She listened to the silence, waiting for him to continue while pondering his words. "It does make me wonder why you are down here. You must be immortal then, to end up in such a place. You could be a powerful changeling for all we know."

"Who gets people out of these things? Who made them? Was it the Unseelie?" she muttered. She felt her eyes become heavy with sleep, rubbing them as she struggled to stay awake.

"No. As I said, this room could be used as a prison but not always. It can be a safe place, you know, like when you're being pursued and you need to seek a sanctuary. No one gets people out of these places except for the faery who put you here. In your case, it's you. You must will it so yourself–to escape, I mean. _You_ must get us out of here, Shade."

She thought of his last words as she drifted off to sleep.

_What a bunch of crock_.

Chapter Twenty

SHADE WOKE UP in darkness yet again. She heard soft breathing across the room. Was she still in the oubliette? The cool, damp air confirmed her disappointment as she sat up, pulling the blanket down from her head. She felt around for her light stone, which sat cold and dormant in the center of the room where she'd left it. Grasping it, she reignited it. Her eyes focused in the dim light as it grew. She watched the bundle that was Dylan softly sleeping. He wasn't aglow anymore. He must have slipped his glamour back on like a robe before bed.

She set the light stone down again, wondering if she should wake him and also how long she slept. She didn't know what day or time it was anymore. It could have been hours or minutes, and she wouldn't even know it down here in the dark, dank bowels of the earth. Her cell phone was long dead, since she hadn't charged it recently. She leaned against the smooth stone and thought about everything they spoke about before she'd let sleep win her over... had it been the night or day before?

Shade felt bad for doubting Dylan, but he didn't make much sense to her half of the time. She was glad that she wasn't alone down here anymore but pondered the subject of escape. _Just will it so? What the heck was that about? Like, tell the stone to open up and let me out kind of thing?_ Shade thought with frustration. She was pretty sure she hadn't asked to be placed here, at least not on purpose.

She stood up again and shook her head. _Oh, whatever, this entire place doesn't make any sense. Changelings, witches, faeries, and whatever the hell else pops up._ She wondered how much of the world she'd grown up in was real at all. It seemed like none of it was. It was just a lie, just a façade that the fey played on all of humankind. They probably got a good laugh out of it all the time. _Oh, what dumb humans they are. They can't figure out that more than half their land isn't even on their maps because it's ours. We can do whatever the heck we want, and they don't know any better. Idiots!_

She kicked the wall again, but not hard enough to hurt her foot. It did force her to grunt, though. She thumped her back against the wall, groaning.

"You all right there? The wall isn't going to kick you back, you know. It didn't really do anything to you, anyway." Dylan had his hands behind his head while he remained lying, head up and staring at her, grinning.

"Oh, shut up. How do we get out? We need to get out, like yesterday, Dylan! How do we do it?" She stared at him, huffing out her anger as she marched back to her sleeping bag. She shook it out violently and stuffed it into her bag. Pulling out her canteen, she gulped down the cool drops of water. She tossed her bag to the side as she sank down to the ground, feeling the tears sting her eyes. Darn it if she was going to give Dylan any more signs of her current breakdown. She just couldn't take the mortification.

Dylan sighed and stretched out. He stood up and held his hand out to her. "Come on. We gotta go." He waited as she stared back up at him, tears still pooling in her eyes. She took his hand and stood up, swinging her pack onto her back as she followed him over to the smooth walls of stone. "Now, to leave these prisons, one must believe in impossibility. Lay your hands on the stone and think. Think about the mountains you saw before you got here and the fountains. Wish your way out. Make a road in your head that will lead you to the place you want to go, and it will happen. Make a way for yourself, for us."

Shade studied his face, feeling a prick of hope mixed with disbelief as he spoke. She licked her lips and did as he told her. Closing her eyes, she wished the stone would open and let her out into the sunlight, into the wilderness she so longed to see again. She prayed and wished as hard as she could, caressing the cool rock and waiting for the stone to do something under her dirty fingers.

Nothing.

Shade opened her eyes and frowned at the rock. She looked over at Dylan and shook her head. "Nothing's happening, Dylan. What if we're stuck here forever?" She stared at the curved wall, wanting a way out where there was none. She sucked her breath in. "Wait!" She'd just remembered something and grabbed her pack, rummaging through it frantically. She pulled out the rune stones Ilarial gave her. She held them in her gritty hand and stared at the symbols. How was she supposed to know what she had to do with them? _Ilarial said they would help me find my way when there is none, but how?_ She stared at them and closed her eyes, silently praying for a way out of the oubliette.

"Shade! Something's happening!" Dylan pulled her out of her thoughts. She glanced around to find the rock fading in front of them with a soft rumble. The bubble was no longer a bubble but extending into an elongated hall. It grew longer into the earth until it reached the top of the soil. Steps formed out of the smooth rock, and sunlight gradually began streaming in through dirt. Roots dangled down from the forest floor.

The walls stopped rumbling, and the ground stilled. She looked over to Dylan as they now stared down the small corridor to the stairs. She smiled and looked at him as he reached back, grabbing his cloak and her light stone from the ground. He tossed the stone to her as they walked up the stairs. "Way to go, Shade. See, you just have to believe in yourself."

"It worked! Ilarial gave me these rune stones that would help me out when I needed it. I didn't even do much but wish for there to be a way out. Wow, it's amazing Dylan!" They both shouted with glee as they scurried up each step.

The sun bore down on them like a spotlight in their faces. Shade's eyes cramped in pain as they adjusted to the bright sunlight. She blinked and shaded her eyes with her hands, looking about. They were no longer in the river of boulders but at the base of the Santiran mountain range. She pulled herself up and out of the hole in the ground, with Dylan just behind her. The ground seemed to swallow up the darkness of the prison as they watched it close. Only grass and leaves lay where the exit used to be. She bent to touch the patch of grass and dirt. It felt firm and undisturbed.

"Look, Dylan!" She pointed up the massive wall of mountain. "It's the Santiran Mountain! We must be so close to the fountains! We're almost there!" She walked with a little skip in her step, almost bursting with anticipation. She'd find the magic waters of the Santiran fountains, and then she'd be that much closer to going home.

_Home._ At the thought of going back to her snotty-nosed brothers and bratty sister, she missed them so much, her heart ached in her chest. She'd be able to hug her mother again. She wanted to run up the mountain as fast as possible. She could barely contain herself.

Dylan grabbed her arm and tugged hard. She was about to curse him out when he pressed a finger to his lips and pulled again for her to follow him. Her eyes widened as she strained to hear what he heard. She followed him behind a boulder near a dip in the mountain's side, almost like someone had taken a scooper and scooped out a chunk of the rocky base. She wasn't sure she liked being inside the hollowed stone, but whatever Dylan heard tripped his alarms at full force.

"What is it, Dylan?" Shade whispered. She was about to ask him again, when she heard it. Murmurs of voices seemed to dance off the rock walls and made her turn her head in all directions to discover which way they were coming from. Maybe this hiding spot was not such a good idea. The voices grew louder and echoed even more, like they were hitting a concaved amplifier.

They waited quietly, barely breathing in fear of discovery. The voices continued to dance around them, as they would in a crowded arena. She knew they were coming from the side they would have to follow to get to the fountains. She gritted her teeth with impatience, willing the men to move along already.

When the murmurs faded away, Dylan peeked over his shoulder at her and nodded his head in the same direction as the voices. The strangers were going where they needed to be. Shade nodded in agreement, but the pit in her stomach flipped with anxiety. She wasn't sure how many people might be waiting for them around the bend. How many Unseelie were guarding the mountain?

They found the path deserted and were breathing out sighs of relief as they crept out silently up the gravelly path. Climbing the rocky path, they slipped frequently from the loose dirt. They eased their way up the mountain, the altitude shifting into thinner and cooler air. The view was breathtaking, with emerald green treetops where the forest spread out for miles. The mountains stood tall, like a row of kings standing around the valley and framing the forest with their embrace. Shade took it in and smiled, finding nature beautiful even in her current situation. Again, she felt as if she'd changed somehow. The woods felt alive all around, as if breathing in the air along with her.

A cool breeze caressed them as they ascended. The forest began to grow again as thick as it was in the valley below. The mountainous path turned into a narrow crevice as they slid through one by one. Inside was a plateau cove, green and partly shaded by the mountain. Trees stood in all sizes around the path that led to the other side of the cove's rock walls, where a carved opening stood in a shadow that never reached the sun's rays.

Shade followed Dylan, taking refuge in the shrubs and tree trunks that kept them hidden from the sight of the two soldiers, who were both standing casually by the entrance. The men were chatting loudly and hadn't noticed the intrusion. Shade snickered, sure the Unseelie queen would not be happy with the help around here. Dylan glared at her, warning her to be quiet.

He studied them and then sank back down to a hidden crouch. "I only see the two guards. The Santiran fountains are inside that darkened doorway. If we can get through them, we should be all right. It seems that they weren't expecting us to be here at all." He paused, furrowing his brow in deep concentration. "Unless, of course, it's a trap." He bit on his lip, furrowing his brow again in thought.

"How are we going to take on two guards?" She glanced over at them. They didn't even have their helmets on. They were the same height with the same color and length of hair, blonde strands that hit their shoulders. They were tossing jokes back and forth and giving each other friendly pushes and punches. As she looked closely, she could see that they were identical twins.

_Great, double the trouble. How am I going to take on two husky guards?_ She squatted back down and out of sight, glancing at Dylan with worry spread across her face. "I'm not a fighter. I haven't learned enough to take on one of these guys. They're each as huge as a house! They could crush me with a finger!" She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves.

"Shh, it's all right. You can distract them, and I'll take them out. They won't know what hit them." He smiled and began pulling out his weapons, unsheathing his sword and draping a rope across his chest and shoulders. She watched him prepare, her face contorted in horror.

"You mean, I'll be the bait? Wait a minute. I don't know. That doesn't sound very promising. You might as well mark me for death. What do I say? How do I distract those two big buffoons? They don't look that smart, but who needs brains with brawn like that?" Shade rambled on nervously. She wrung her hands over and over, feeling almost faint with anxiety. She grasped Dylan's tunic as he started to leave.

"Hey, don't worry. You have to trust me a little, Shade. I've done this before, many times. I was captain of the Teleen Guard, remember? One doesn't become captain by letting their wards get killed." He snickered but stopped, catching her daggered look. "Calm down. Just prance out there and act like some lost little maiden who needs their help. They will fall for it, believe me. Just act dumb. It shouldn't be too hard." He laughed quietly but stopped again when she threw another nasty glare at him. He turned and started to move, keeping cover in the trees, until Shade could no longer see him.

_Shoot, shoot, shoot!_ She looked again around the tree she was hiding behind and watched the twins. They were still cackling at each other's jokes. _Okay, Shade, you know you have to. Sometimes we have to do what we don't want to. Just get it over with already!_

She crept closer to the twins. Peeking at the guards made her stomach twist in a bad way. Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight, fixing her hair as best as she could. She put her most convincing clueless face on, including a broad smile. She then walked straight into their line of sight.

"Um, excuse me, boys, but do you know where the nearest town is? I've done gone and got myself lost. Would either one of you gentlemen care to show me which way to go?" She batted her eyes at them in the girliest way she could think of. Flipping her hair back, she didn't think she looked irresistible, but she'd figured, _what the hell. It's worth a shot._

"Stay put there, miss. Andre, grab her and make sure she ain't got no weapons." Draden waved at his brother. They were immediately at full alert and converted into the soldiers they were trained to be. Shade swallowed hard and stiffened but recovered almost immediately, trying to act like it was no big deal.

"Oh, come on now, boys. Why would a little lass like me be carrying around a weapon? I wouldn't touch those filthy things if you paid me. It would ruin my nails." She curled her fingers into her palm, hoping they wouldn't notice her dingy and short cuticles. She cranked up her smile and flashed her eyes at the approaching guard again, the one named Andre. He crouched by her and signaled her to hold her arms up as he did a quick sweep of her sides and yanked her pack from her back. She was about to protest but decided that silence would be the safest choice. She hoped the glamour charm Dylan waved onto her pack was good enough to hide all her stuff, especially the weapons .

"I don't see any, Draden. She's got nothing but makeup, a brush, and some clothes in this thing." He tossed it back to her, and she caught it as it whacked her chest. She frowned but slipped it back on, widening another smile across her face and twirling her hair. It dangled from her ponytail and flew about like a wispy halo around her face. She waited, observing the other guard, who squinted his suspicious eyes at her and frowning.

"What's your name, _girl_?" Draden approached her with his sword drawn. Shade held her breath as he came up to her, bending his head down to meet her eye to eye. With the cold stare of ice blue eyes, he appeared more menacing than his twin. His long blond hair was pulled into a loose braid and dangled partially in his face. Up close, his face was worn with years of hard fighting. Deep lines creased his eyes and mouth, and stubble grew, sprinkled across his skin. His twin looked just as hard, but maybe not as cold. She swallowed and wondered how to answer this big man with his sword pointed right at her. She took a breath, staring back into the warrior's eyes.

"My name is Alice, Alice Coleman. I'm sorry. I must have interrupted something. I'll just leave then and go along my merry way. I really didn't want to impose or anything." Draden, pressing his sword into her clavicle, cut her off. She stepped back, but he grabbed her arm to stop her. She felt her panic rush over her.

Where the hell is Dylan?

"I don't believe you." He pressed the blade a little more, and her skin burned with the tiny cut. She held back a cry and stared back at him, anger spilling across her face as she clenched her lips together.

"I don't care what you think. I said, I'll be on my way now." She continued to stare and waited, since he did not let up on his grip. He glared back and seemed to ponder her face, stamping it into his memory. She wondered if he would actually hurt her or even kill her. She didn't want to find out, but her impatience grew with every second.

She decided to chance another step backward. Slowly, she retreated, but watching him dart his eyes just a moment made her pause. He continued to press the sword into her but did not push it in any further. She stared at his eyes and willed him to drop the sword. She beckoned with her eyes, like a silent prayer. She felt her magic swirl within her, inside her heart, spinning around like a mirror ball and growing with each moment. It felt like a breath flowing out of her, up to her wound and down the sword Draden held firmly in his hands.

The moment it touched him, she saw him waver. He looked away, down at the sword and back up to her face. His face fell, eyes widening and fear creeping up into his icy stare as his eyes darted from the sword to her and back again. Finally, he stepped away, relenting, and let his sword slide down until it grazed the soil and hung slack in his hand.

"What did you do? How did you... who _are_ you?" He stepped away, and his firm stare met her gaze, mixed with confusion and suspicion. "Who sent you?"

Shade licked her lips and watched him as he backed away. Andre approached with his sword in hand but halted with a wave from Draden. The dominant brother was obvious to her. She hoped that whatever had just happened would save her.

"Drop your swords, or we will not stop. She will churn your insides into pulp, and she will not hesitate." Dylan held two swords readied and crept up behind the twins, cautiously poking them in their backs simultaneously. They both froze, surprise and anger spilling across their faces. Draden glanced at Dylan and then back at Shade, seemingly contemplating the situation, probably pondering their chances against them.

Whatever magic filled him from Shade had gotten the best of him. He dropped his sword and straightened, holding his head up and puffing his chest out in some male attempt at superiority. Andre followed suit and dropped his sword, hands in the air for surrender.

"Shade, tie them up, and hurry. I don't know when their replacements could show up." Shade hurried over, kicking the dropped swords out of reach, and grabbed the spool of rope Dylan handed over to her. She took the slim ropes and walked over to Draden. "Ok, tell your brother to turn his back into that tree there, and you can back into it, too. Stand next to him with your arms behind you."

Draden glared at her with tense lips and hard eyes. She waited patiently, not letting his stare creep into her again or letting any fear slip out. He did what she said and waited as his brother walked over and turned around behind him. Shade snickered and hastily tied the ropes around their wrists. She silently thanked her mom for those scout campouts, where tying knots was a requirement to earn those nifty badges her mom would carefully sew onto her uniform vest. She still had that vest, hanging neatly in her closet.

Once she had them tied, she directed them to a tree, where she wrapped the remainder of the rope around them several times, as tightly as she could get it without cutting off circulation to their bodies. She knotted the ends securely. She looked at the brothers and beamed with satisfaction.

"I know what you are. You're a changeling. Only changelings can send magic into others to make them weaker. I met one once. He's dead now. He was powerful, though. You will never be that strong." Draden sighed and looked down at the ground, pensive and serious. "You look like him, though, your father, I mean."

Shade stopped. Her face froze in surprise. "What did you say? Who are you talking about?"

Draden snapped his head up and watched her face, smirking.

"What are you smiling at?" She felt anger flush over her face, but she tried to contain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"You don't know, do you? You didn't even know you were a changeling. How'd you do it, then? Wild magic flows through you like a cancer. He had the same powers. I could help you, you know. I knew your father. He was a powerful man. I was his second in command for centuries until he died and that crazy queen took over." The husky man squirmed in the ropes, grimacing and obviously trying to loosen the ties. Shade was no longer smiling, but at least there was no way in hell he could break loose.

She turned to look at Dylan. He was standing nearby, his dual swords ready in hand. He was not as sure as she was that the rope would hold. His lips were firm, straight, and almost colorless. His eyes furrowed in concentration, contemplating what the soldier said. "Don't listen to them, Shade. He's trying to trick you and delay us. Let's go to the fountain before someone else shows up." He brought the swords down, turned, and motioned for her to follow.

Draden's eyes widened, seeing the two of them walking away. He fidgeted again and yelled after them. "I swear it's the truth, girl. I know things you need to know. I was his second in command. Your father would have wanted you to know these things. _Stop!"_

Shade turned her head, still following Dylan, and glanced back at the brawny warrior. His wild eyes watched her intently, waiting for her to turn back. She shook her head and looked away. She had a strange feeling that the soldier was telling the truth. If not, he was an excellent liar. A part of her wanted to go back and ask the warrior so many questions, but she knew it wasn't the right time.

The doorway to the fountains lay in shadows. They stepped into the darkness and waited as their eyes adjusted to dim light. Following Dylan and activating her light stone, she grimaced at the stone walls. Another cave. _Great_ , thought Shade.

Just as she thought that, a light shone through another doorway, making her realize the hall they were in was more of a semi-circle. It led to an open courtyard in the shape of a full moon. Here in the middle of the mountains, the sun streamed down above the sharp cliffs that reached up to the sky. Shade drew in her breath, amazed at the sight. Hidden from any prying eyes was a vast, rich garden. It was large, and the sound of water trickled and gurgled all around them. The grass was a brilliant, glowing green with the most brilliantly colored flowers and vines weaving throughout it.

The air was moist and warm here. It felt akin to being in a large greenhouse, like one she'd visited in her childhood with her father. It contained an immense glass dome as a ceiling and held in butterflies and birds of all types. The warm mist felt much the same and made her want to curl up under a tree and take a nap. It was a piece of untouched land that seemed to be heaven on earth.

They stood in awe of the sights. Dylan motioned her forward again and broke her out of her thoughts. She followed but was stunned by the beauty of the place. Near the middle of the garden, they came upon what looked like a massive natural fountain, made of rock and crystals of every color. The crystals glinted and parted the light into beams of rainbow all around the fountain, making it hard to look at because the jewels shimmered so brightly.

Dylan stopped. He reached into his pack and pulled out a glass flask with a stopper. He held it out to Shade, signaling for her to take it. "Here, I can't touch the waters, but you can. Take this and fill it. Then we will be done."

Shade took the flask and smiled. Excitement hummed through her veins as she approached the fountain. She paused at the edge and stared down at the glowing crystals. The water swelled around them and trickled down the rock, spraying up a slight mist of warm water. She wondered what made it so special. It looked like water, plain water. The fountain itself was impressive, but that's where it ended.

She licked her lips and took the stopper out of the flask, dipping it into the warm embrace of the water. She let it fill as it bubbled up around her hand. She felt the magic stir. As she immersed her arm in the water, the magic seemed to intensify. She felt it crawl up her arm and deep into her core. Her eyes widened as the euphoria overwhelmed her.

Shaking her head to clear it and think better now that the flask was full, she pulled the flask out to examine it. Rainbows swirled in the glinting sunlight inside of the glass. She felt the cool liquid run down her arm and drip onto the moist earth below. The dirt vibrated with life as green vines and leaves sprouted at every drop and reached for the sunlight. She smiled, enjoying the euphoric feeling and peace all at once. She realized she was glowing, reflecting light off the pool of water. It felt amazing.

"Shade? Are you okay?" Dylan's eyes were wide in concern. His face appeared paralyzed in shock and disbelief. She looked up at him and smiled, nodding as she pushed the stopper into the flask.

"That was amazing, Dylan! I feel like someone just jolted me awake with a million double shot espressos. I feel great!" Shade laughed and hopped back to where Dylan stood, drying her arm on her hoodie. He approached her and smiled, watching her illuminated face and feeling the warmth spill onto him. He reached out and touched her cheek, sliding his fingers over her skin, and the vibrating magic spilled onto his skin too. His hand glowed, and the light crept over him as it did her. They stood in a cocoon of light and peace.

He laughed and smiled at her. Her smile was contagious. Her cherry red lips seemed to beckon him, and her dreamy honey eyes seemed to pull him into the deep abyss of her soul. He moved closer, cupping her face. Bending forward, his lips brushed against hers, warm and soft, sending Shade's heart sighing in bliss. A feeling of drunkenness filled him, as though he'd been empty and now was filling up to the brim. He gave in to the embrace, letting it swim around them like honey dripping off the trees and leaves around them, imprisoning them in a bubble of swirling magic. He wanted to kiss and hold her forever.

"There they are! We have you surrounded! Drop your weapons!"

The shout jerked them back to the garden and the trickling water. Dylan spun and stared at the squad of soldiers pouring in through the door in the rock wall and fanning out to surround them.

"Drop your weapons, or we will be forced to kill you, warrior. We only want the girl with the flask of water. Give her to us, and we will let you live." The leader stared at Dylan's swords, now loose and unsheathed, held in a fighting stance. The captain of this band shook his head and laughed. "You can't win. We outnumber you, young man. Drop the swords."

"Sir, I can't locate the twins. It's like they've disappeared. I found pieces of their armor, but they're nowhere to be found. Maybe the little witch dispatched them before we arrived. I've heard strange things about her, sir." The captain waved the subordinate away, furiously shaking his head.

"Don't be stupid! Just as well. We'll assume they're dead. Now, secure the girl, and let's get back to the palace before dark. The Queen will be most pleased. Move in!" The circle of soldiers began to press in on them.

Shade turned to watch the soldiers closing in on them and backed into Dylan, her hands clasped around the bottle. Her eyes darted nervously at the soldiers. "What now, Dylan? There's no way out! We're trapped!" She bit her lip as the fear spilled over the fading euphoria.

"It's all right, Shade. Listen to me, and do just what I say. Hold onto me. I'm going to drop my glamour and call my powers." Shade looked up at him, eyes wide in terror.

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to call my power of lightning. When I discharge it, the first ring of soldiers will drop with the shock. Hold onto me tightly. I have to control it so it doesn't go too wide and fry the garden. Come on!"

Shade shook her head as she turned into him, letting his arms embrace her tightly. "I... I don't know if this is a good idea. What if I get electrocuted, too?" She trembled in his grip. Dylan looked down at her and smiled softly.

"Believe, Shade. I believe since you are able to touch me, you are immune to my powers. It will be alright." He whispered the last words and hugged her tightly. They closed their eyes as the blue flickers of fire crackled over his skin. The next thing she knew, she felt the bolt of energy discharge from his body, like a small earthquake vibrating through her. The bolt snapped and sent a thunderous boom around them. When it was done, just a moment later, she peeked around his chest to see that the first ring of soldiers surrounding them were down, most knocked out while others moaned in distress.

"It worked, Dylan!" She stopped as she watched the next wave of soldiers creep in, stepping over the others cautiously and staring at the pair of them in disbelief.

"Damn it! It's a blasted Teleen. Grab the lightning rods from the armory stash now! We've got to control the lightning before we can overpower him!" The captain's face was beet red, and sweat beaded on his face as he fumbled back from the fallen ones. "Hurry up!" he yelled.

The soldiers stood back as they waited for the rods to be handed out.

"Lightning rods? Dylan, what are they gonna do with the rods?" Shade turned around and watched the soldiers pass stacks of rods around the group.

Dylan breathed in and shook his head. "The rods will render me powerless. They will draw my power into the rods and leave me harmless. We've got to get out of here now." He spun around and watched the soldiers gear up and advance again. He then turned to Shade and looked down into her shining brown eyes.

"Shade, listen to me. There's a legend that says the holder of the water of the Santiran Fountains can use it to wish for anything they want, just once, and it will be granted by the water's magic. Now, I'm going to hold onto you, and you try to think as hard as you can of the Guildrin forest and imagine being back there once more, got it?"

"Yes, but, there's no freakin' way that will work!"

Dylan re-sheathed his swords, pulled her into his embrace, and smiled. "I guess we'll find out. Now wish us home, Shade. Do it now!"

Shade closed her eyes, feeling the soldiers' auras vibrating around them and closing in. She breathed in, thinking of Queen Zinara, Ilarial and her newfound friends. She visualized the steps leading down to the Guildrin living quarters, the only place she'd ever felt somewhat safe in Faerie.

Dylan's arms felt warm and strong around her, and she only hoped he would continue to hold her this way. She wished him safe, herself and the others too. Unscrewing the cap of the flask, she whispered her thoughts into the bottle grasped tightly in her hands. She felt Dylan's lips on her head, warm and firm as she wished them all back home safe, as hard as she could.

A peaceful feeling washed over them like a crashing wave. In just that instant, yelling and cursing blew up around them, followed by an intense silence. The sound of tree leaves rustling and birds chirping in the slight breeze made Shade open her eyes. They stood by the great tree to the Guildrin Court, as if they'd never left. She gasped, looking up at Dylan.

"You did it! Oh man, you did it, Shade! We're home!" Dylan jumped and hopped about, hollering out his joy. Returning to her and lifting her up with his arms, he swung her around. Shade breathed in with relief. A moment later, another whoosh sounded around them. The entire gang stood there, looking startled and shocked.

"Oh, wow!" She ran and hugged the tall sorceress Braelynn, and then turned to embrace them all one by one. Hot steaming tears streamed down her cheeks. Every one of them was there. Everyone but Sylphi returned, just as she'd wished. They were all shocked and surprised but intact and safe. Shade didn't ponder very long about where Sylphi had gone. Shade wasn't missing her.

"What just happened? We're home! How the...? What the...?" Soap was spinning around, looking at the landscape, absolutely petrified. Shade ran, hugged him tight, and pulled back an inch to see his face. He grinned back to her and nodded. "This can only mean one thing. You did it. You actually did it, and without us to aid you, at that! You made it to the fountains, didn't you? Incredible! How did you do it? How did you get us all home? One minute we were searching for you around the base of the Santiran mountains, we'd just picked up your trail, and now here we are, home sweet home." He sighed and hugged her again even tighter.

"Okay, let go. I can't breathe!" she cried happily. He let go abruptly but caught her as she stumbled backward.

"Sorry!" He grinned and laughed. She laughed along with him, feeling elated.

"Do you have the water, then?" Shade nodded at Sary, who'd worked her way up to her. "You did it, Shade. You saved our people!" Sary hugged her and joined the laughter.

"Let's go home, everyone. It's been a long journey, and it's time to celebrate! Queen Zinara will be absolutely delighted. We will win this war against the Unseelie after all! We have new allies joining us for victory!" Jack smiled widely as he hugged everyone in the group. Everyone agreed and nodded. The stairs to the underground opened, and they each descended, laughing and chatting with each other, all the strain of the journey lifted at once.

"Who are our new allies, Jack?" Shade inquired.

"Oh, sorry, you probably haven't heard about it yet, but, on our way to the Santiran fountains, we ran into a group of villagers who proclaimed that Prince Lotinar has returned and sided with Queen Zinara. This will prove most useful to our cause." Shade pondered what he'd said, not really knowing of whom they spoke, but suddenly thought of something else.

"Wait, um, was Sylphi with you guys? Where is she?" Shade asked, not that she really cared.

"Sylphi? She ran at the battle with Lady Blythe. She probably returned to the Teleen Caverns. She most likely got too scared to fight," Ewan chuckled. Shade wasn't the only one not missing Sylphi.

Shade approached the first step to the mound but turned to see Dylan watching her.

"The blood bind is still in place. I thought it might be fulfilled at journey's end, but it's not," he whispered as his eyes stared off into the forest, glazing over. His face was serious and contemplative.

"I'm sorry, Dylan. You know I would break it if I could. What do you think has to be done to end it?" Shade placed her hand on his arm to pull him back into the present. He returned his gaze to her and smiled through the sadness.

"It's all right, Shade. I know now that this is my destiny. I'm not meant to be captain of the Teleen guard anymore. I'm glad I met you, Shade. Changes are good." His eyes sparkled in the dimming light of the dusk. The orange glow spread across the sky and dimmed the forest floor as the sun crept away to slumber.

"I'm glad we met, too. Come on. Let's get some real food and rest for once. After we give the flask to the Queen, I can go home and see my family."

Dylan's face darkened in gloom as he stared back at her. "Home? You're leaving? Well, I guess you would want to go home, wouldn't you? I won't be returning home, probably not for a long time." He pressed his lips together and stepped forward toward the stairs. "I have to warn you, Shade. I have to stay close to where you are, or my blood burns inside me."

"I know. You could come, you know. You could meet my family. I'm sure I could think of something to tell my mother. You could definitely pass for a teenager. I could say your family is moving out of town, and you need a place to stay so you can graduate at our high school. What do you think? We do have a guest room. My mom rarely uses it, but I'm pretty sure she'd agree to letting you stay with us." She stood before him, staring down the stairs of the faery mound.

He suddenly turned, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Yes, that would be good. I think that since our blood bind is still in place, I will have to stay near you somehow. I guess that would be best, at least until the bond's requirements are fulfilled and it lets me go home."

Shade beamed. She could feel his anxiety pulsating out toward her. Something about the fountains linked them even closer. She flushed red as she remembered the burn of his lips against hers. She hoped for Dylan's sake they wouldn't be bound for too much longer. However, as they descended into the faerie court and out of sight, she knew she wasn't ready to let him go.

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About the Author

Alexia currently lives in Las Vegas, Nevada–Sin City! She loves to spend every free moment writing or playing with her four rambunctious kids. Writing has always been her dream, and she has been writing ever since she can remember. She loves writing paranormal fantasy and poetry and devours books daily. Alexia also enjoys watching movies, dancing, singing loudly in the car and eating Italian food.

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 Ever Shade (A Dark Faerie Tale) Facebook Fan page

 Reign of Blood Series Facebook Fan Page

Also by Alexia Purdy:

Reign of Blood Series:

Reign of Blood

Disarming (Reign of Blood #2)

Elijah (The Miel Chronicles):

A Reign of Blood Companion Story

Amplified (Reign of Blood #3)

A Dark Faerie Tale Series:

Evangeline (A Dark Faerie Tale #0.5)

Ever Shade (A Dark Faerie Tale #1)

Ever Fire (A Dark Faerie Tale #2)

Ever Winter (A Dark Faerie Tale #3)

The Cursed (A Dark Faerie Tale #3.5)

Ever Wrath (A Dark Faerie Tale #4)

Elemental Fire Series:

History of fire (Elemental Fire #1)

Short Stories:

The Faery Hunt

Never Say Such Things

Poetic Collections:

Whispers of Dreams

Five Fathoms

Anthologies:

Beyond the Never

Soul Games

Faery Worlds

Faery Realms

Shades of Chaos

Lacing Shadows

Destiny's Dark Fantaasy

Crimson Dreams: A Vampire Anthology

