Soul Market

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Eternal Press www.eternalpress.com.au Copyright ©2009 by Sonnet O?Dell First published in 2009-03-07, 2009 NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

CONTENTS Dedication: Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen

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Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-one Chapter Twenty-two Chapter Twenty-three Chapter Twenty-four Chapter Twenty-five Chapter Twenty-six Chapter Twenty-seven Chapter Twenty-eight Chapter Twenty-nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-one Chapter Thirty-two Chapter Thirty-three Chapter Thirty-four About the Author ****

Soul Market I'd walked for a while when my feet began to sound louder than normal, like they were giant feet. I stopped but the loud sound didn't. It wasn't the sound of my feet that had been drowned out, by something or someone coming along the tunnel behind me. I looked behind me now my eyes had grown a little used to the dark, but I still couldn't see anyone. I kept walking, faster until I was power walking. Then I was jogging until finally I broke into a run, trying to lose whatever was behind me. My pulse beat fast in my neck. I couldn't see any turnings or openings so I kept going straight ahead, until I ran out of places to run. I came to a wall and knew it was a dead end.

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Soul Market © 2009 by Sonnet O'Dell All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. An Eternal Press Production Eternal Press 206—6059 Pandora St. Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada, V5B 1M4 To order additional copies of this book, contact: www.eternalpress.ca Cover Art © 2009 Ally Robertson Edited by Pam Slade Copyedited by J Coffey Layout and Book Production by Ally Robertson eBook ISBN: 978-1-926647-51-1 Print ISBN: 978-1-926647-61-6 First eBook Edition * March 2009 First Print Edition * March 2009 Production by Eternal Press Printed in The United States of America.

Dedication: To my friends and family, whose souls are treasures that no money could ever buy. [Back to Table of Contents]

Soul Market A Cassandra Farbanks Novel Sonnet O'Dell [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter One It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that a parent will lie to a child to soften the burden of reality. It's part of their job and you can't hold it against them. My mother kept a huge secret from me, but on her deathbed, she confessed everything. That there are two parallel streams of reality—the one we know and another, a dark place of mystery, horror and

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magic. Mother had escaped that world, although what it cost her to do so she wouldn't say as in that world, she had been in command of a great magical force. What little of her power was available to her on this side, she used to stop my dual nature from pulling me into that darker reality. But she knew when she passed, the spell would break and I would be taken into a deadly world that she needed to prepare me for. Her best guess made her sure that it would take me at night. Having been born during the day, my bond to this reality would be stronger. I will always remember the last words she said to me. "Nothing is free, everything, even trust, has to be earned." She passed away days after I turned eighteen, on a Wednesday just before sunset. With fresh tears on my face, I watched the sun vanish. I closed my eyes tight and for the first time, I felt that other place take me. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Two Three years later, I opened my eyes and looked at the blue tiles of my shower cubicle. The hot water was running over me washing away the day, reviving my tired body and soul. I was aware that, at some point during my shower, the sun had gone down and I'd crossed over. The Chinese amulets—in the apartment's corners—assured that all my belongings shifted realities with me. I turned off the faucet before I began wringing my hair out. I have a lot of it—some people like it long and my chestnut curls fall to just below my waist. I pushed open the glass door, putting my foot down on cold marble, and reached to pull a fresh warm towel off the rack. I secured it around myself and with my hand drew a streak through the steamed mirror. Green eyes stared back at me as I ran fingers over the lines of my face, feeling my skin with their slightly wrinkled tips. I stepped back in a vain attempt to get my entire body into the reflection of the small mirror. I called myself a healthy size—slim waist but hips and a bust to make me curvaceous. Satisfied with myself, I grabbed a second towel for my hair and walked out into my room. Eyes closed and humming with a last tune you heard on the radio hum. It's where everything about the song, title, artist, lyrics all escapes you. The hum you do when you're pretty sure you're alone and no one can hear you. "So contrary to popular belief, you do know how to let your hair down." I opened one eye and with a grumble, replied to the figure sitting on the old French couch back towards the balcony doors. "Aram, if you're gonna just keep letting yourself in, I'm going to retract your invitation." Aram smiled, showing just the tiniest hint of his fangs. Aram is a vampire, one of many that exist in this reality. Many creatures like him exist here, but none quite as annoying.

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What really got up my nose about him, was that he was handsome, attractive in a way that's distracting. A cascade of deep rich-brown and red curls around deep hazel eyes. Eyes that were like a forest, a forest in which delights awaited. He was unnaturally attractive—hell he was just damned pretty. He turned his gaze to me and his smile widened. "Your words do not match your eyes. Why is that?” he questioned. "You know very well why, Aram." If you stare too long into a vampire's eyes, you fall in. They have a power that can hypnotise you. Once they get you with the eyes, they can do this thing with their voice. In this state, you can't lie to them or disobey them and you won't remember anything they don't want you to. They command you. Many people have been used to carry out tasks for vampires after they'd left a command in their brains, one little trigger word and you do whatever it is they want. It's like subliminal advertising but a whole lot more fucked up. Aram found me especially intriguing because if I wanted to, I could ignore him and he couldn't make me do anything. Aram sat back, his arms sliding over the back of the couch. His loose blue shirt billowed open exposing a V-shaped segment of his pale chest. He crossed his legs—the leather of his trousers sighed, as he clicked the heel of his boot against the wooden frame of the couch. He chuckled at me as I watched him. I felt angry but all I could think was, that I wished he'd worn a green shirt. He looked better in green. It took me a moment but I finally found my voice. "You know your invitation did not include my bedroom,” I said crossly. Atta girl, get back on subject, you're mad at him for violating your privacy yet again. "Yes, but a man could get old before he ever got invited here,” he purred in a dulcet tone. He motioned to my bed, a four-poster in dark mahogany draped in red sheets to match the walls. "If this is business, state it and get the fuck out,” I snapped. "And if it's not business?” he asked. "You get to go straight to part two of my previous statement." I hated the speed at which vampires move. One second he was on the couch. The next, he was tracing his fingers—so gently—over the water drops on my shoulders, sending shivers down my spine. "You were first in my thoughts tonight,” he said softly. Such sweet, meaningless words. "That does not sound like business,” I stammered. "Depends on what your business is,” he purred. I felt his fingers creep around my elbows to find my waist and he whispered, there was something he needed of me, wanted of me. I pulled away. I wasn't dressed for a fight but neither was I in the mood to take his crap.

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"Business or pleasure, Aram, make up your mind." He coughed, poorly trying to hide a laugh. I amused him no end, which was another reason he really got on my nerves. "How about a little bit of both?” he offered in his version of compromise. I turned to face him, my fingers apart to demonstrate the size of my remaining patience. "I am this close to revoking your invitation,” I said. Something crossed his face. Was it anger or passion? But either way, I ended up on the bed, trying to keep my towel from slipping as he pressed over me. He waited for a fight, for me to hit him or struggle, but I refused. I was in no mood for one of his games and there was no way he could make me. "You do not fight?” he asked curiously. "I'm not going to indulge you." "If you will not fight, then maybe I shall finally kiss you,” he chuckled. I found it funny, how a threat and a promise sounded the same coming from him. "You bite me and you'll regret it." A vampire's kiss is its bite, to pierce a body and take the blood that keeps them alive. "When did I mention biting you?” He made a small laugh. Damn, he was playful tonight. He meant an actual kiss. His face came down towards mine, his lips lean, smooth, perfect. For a second, a blip in time, I wanted to know the feel of those lips. I waited for that touch of breath but there was none. Aram didn't breathe. The rise and fall of his chest was just a simulation. I came back to my senses, his lips an inch away from mine, and I stopped him with his name. Our eyes locked and I revoked his invite. A warm wind bristled over my skin and Aram was washed away with it. I sat up alone in my room, the balcony doors blown open. I re-secured my towel as I walked over to the doors, where Aram was resting against the railing, a little dazed. "I warned you but you just don't listen,” I said a little happily. "That was childish, Andra,” he growled. I smiled. If he wanted to see childish ... I slammed both doors shut in his face—he could have childish. Aram and I were always like this. He'd push it, I'd revoke his invitation, but then something would come up. He would be invited in again only to end up going back to pushing his luck. He was getting worse as we averaged three times a month for an eviction and re-invite. This was the fifth time this month and counting. The apartment in which I lived was spacious. It had, after all, been the perfect size for our family. We

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were three, then two, and now just me. I don't remember a lot about my father, he died when I was two. As far as I was concerned, I'd only really had one parent, my mother. I now slept in the master bedroom. My old room—I was in the midst of redecorating, was turning into a study. I needed a space in which to do my college work. I'd left college when my mother's illness got worse and spent two years taking care of her. When she passed away, I'd decided she would want me to finish my education. Some of my friends always wondered how I got by with such a large apartment. My parents had owned it out right and it was left to me in the will. In this other reality, although my apartment was in it, the building was actually abandoned. I liked it in a way, as it deterred intruders. I did need money though. I worked jobs in this reality, mainly finding lost things and other small magical jobs. Over here, the abilities my mother had possessed had awoken inside me. In the day, when I was in the other world—the world of my birth, the one I considered the real world—it was still there but minimal. Just tingles that let me know when things were going to happen, a little extra luck, a few tricks and I could turn a fiver into a fifty. I never let anyone know though. I didn't want it to turn into a sad routine I ended up doing at parties to impress people. Money was the one thing that was the same in both worlds. I could take it back with me during the day as long as it was in my apartment, part of the reason why I insisted on being paid cash in hand. I dressed in torn up jeans and my Ruby Gloom baby tee and went into the kitchen to rustle up something to eat. The main room, was split into two squares and two rectangles. The living room and the kitchen were squares, at diagonals to each other. There was a rectangle of bare floor where the door was and another on the other side that had two doors coming off it. They led into a bathroom and the second bedroom. Geometrically sound and on the top floor, you couldn't get much better. I'd grown up in this space and there was no other place that could be home for me. I mean, I had considered moving out and selling it. Maybe getting a smaller place and using the extra money to do things I wanted to do, but with me shifting realities every time night fell, it was safer to stay put. Moving could only create complications. I opened the refrigerator, scanning through the shelves. I needed to go shopping desperately but it would have to wait until the morning. The supermarket on this side was a little bit weird, suffering from a constant state of temporal flux, you could go down aisle six and end up in aisle three. I hadn't yet finished mapping where all of them were. I wanted to be able to navigate safely so I didn't end up inside a freezer again. Towards the back of my fridge were the remains of a pasta salad. I scooped it out, found a fork, and tucked in. I wasn't much of a cook but what I could do, I'd mastered. It was enough to keep me living. I cheated a bit, having at least one meal a day at college. I moved the bowl, pushing it with my fork around the side, and ate while I rummaged through the cupboard above me for some cat food. Gourmet tins because Nancy was so fussy, she would only drink cream. She ate better than I did most of the time but I was responsible for her. It wasn't like she could go shopping for herself. I finished the pasta off, rinsed the fork under the tap, and wiped the wet on the back of my jeans. I dished the tin of cat chow onto Nancy's saucer by the bottom of the fridge. As I came back up, I caught a glimpse of the clock on the microwave and swore under my breath. I was going to be late, if I didn't get a move on. I didn't think Nancy was inside, so I opened the bathroom window so she could get in from where ever she was. I grabbed my coat and headed out the door.

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Chapter Three I was due at Virginia's for evening tea at seven. Virginia Toogood was verging on her centenary. I was in for cucumber sandwiches and enough tea to drown an army. I didn't actually care a great deal for tea, but Virginia said anyone who didn't like tea just wasn't British. She lived in a creepy old house, which would have been a housing estate, on the other side of Nunnery Wood. On this side of whatever mystical curtain separated the two worlds, it was still woods—extra creepy—and the house looked like the woodcutters house from the Grimm version of Sleeping Beauty . The kind of house you'd expect to find a witch in. Virginia Toogood is a witch but the good kind, the Glenda Good Witch of the North kind—except without the ridiculous ball gown and wand. Besides, she was far too old to pull off the red hair. I pressed the doorbell, and somewhere inside a big gong vibrated and the cracks in the ancient wood grew a little wider with the agitation. The door opened on its own and closed behind me as I moved into the hall. "Virginia, it's Cassandra,” I called but got no answer. I looked at the stairs in front of me, a faded carpet ran up in the middle and everything else was wood. It had to be the only carpet in the house. The kind you can only find in the home of an elderly person. It was as if normal carpet transmutes when its owner reaches a certain age. The right side of the house was one room entirely made of glass—a solarium that was like a jungle, where she grew all sorts of plants and herbs. Sometimes we had tea in there during the summer when it was warm, the flowers would blossom and the scent of them was intoxicating. A fire roared in the parlour on my left but the antique furniture had no occupants other than a thin film of dust from age. The smell of fresh baked bread came spiralling through the air from the kitchen, where a loaf was no doubt left out to cool. Virginia was a real cook, and when she wasn't teaching me control, she was teaching me to make proper food. "Virginia?” I called again. I heard her old and raspy voice coming through the floors. "I'm in the attic." I took my jacket off, laid it on the banister, and started up the stairs. I could count the times I'd been invited into Virginia's attic on one hand; it was her sacred space. I'd suggested she have a sacred space that wasn't up two flights of stairs, for health and safety reasons. I mean she was old and one wrong step away from a hip replacement. The second staircase is metal and it spirals up into the attic, where large circular windows let the moon shine in from all its points as it crosses the evening sky. A circle sectioned the room; there was everything in the circle and everything outside of it. In the far corner was a cauldron

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that Virginia had a long time ago assured me was purely ornamental. Modern witches could boil potions over a gas hob, there was no need for the old ways. The other general clutter that finds its way to the attic was here too—an old rug, photo albums, and a lamp that was a Spanish dancer some friend had brought back to her after a holiday. A tacky gift, one you only bring out when you know they're going to visit. Virginia was up to her waist inside an old chest, under the far window, routing around. She was a small woman but immensely powerful. Power was not something like sight that began to fail you as you aged. Power matured like cheese or wine with a taste that was just as unique. When someone used power on you, you could taste it on the back of your tongue and no two powers tasted the same. I'd heard identical twins did but it was debateable. How often did you come across identical twins that were magically inclined, outside of a J K Rowling novel. "Virginia?” I asked questioningly as to what she was doing. "Sit down, on the edge of the circle,” she said insistently. Virginia was one of the few people I trusted, so I took what she asked of me at face value. She was also one of the few people I knew that crossed realities and the only one, who knew my mother had jumped, from theirs to my father's. It wasn't something you broadcasted, even among the weird, because you could be considered abnormal. She moved backwards with a kick and landed on her feet, holding a box made of dark wood, delicately carved with a gold latch. She sat down smoothing her ruffled skirt and placed it on the floor in front of her. Her face was long and in her youth she'd been quite ravishing. Her looks were now obscured by the wrinkles, that her life and times had given her. Her white hair, which was tied loosely in a bun, had fallen loose to frame her face. Her eyes, although grey in colour, looked incredibly young and still full of life. She flipped the catch, with the delicate nails at the end of her needle like fingers. The top came back and golden backed cards sat inside, with crowns printed onto the Celtic pattern in the centre. I'd never seen anything like them before. "Hold out your hands,” Virginia said. I didn't mind that she didn't say please or anything. She was my elder, my guru, and for all that she gave me, I could let things like that slide. I rubbed my hands on my jeans, as if I hadn't only recently had a shower and held them out palms up. The box shook and the cards moved out, filing themselves into the same neat pile they'd started in, still face down but now in my palms. "The last few days, these cards have been calling to me in my dreams,” she said. “They were calling your name. They have something they need to tell you." "Don't tell me they speak,” I said, with more than an air of doubt. "You need to shuffle them,” she continued, ignoring me. “Begin focusing your power, thinking about your life, question where it is going and they will speak." I looked down at the cards, feeling my eyebrow rise questioningly. Three years of doing this and there was a part of me that still wasn't quite a believer. "Just do it,” she said with a raspy gripe. "I am yours to command, O Yoda,” I said with a slight smile.

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A whip of wind connected with my head, enough to sting but not enough to show. Virginia's hand had returned to her side. "Just because I'm old, doesn't mean I don't know who you're comparing me to, young lady,” Virginia chided me. I made a weak apologetic smile and focused on the cards. I'd worked for ages to make sure my face didn't screw up and I looked like I was desperate for a bowel movement. I closed my eyes, feeling my power come up from inside me. It was like a heat—warm, electric and exciting. They opened as the cards moved from my hands and slid back into the box, save three. They lay in the middle of the circle before me. "What now?” I asked. "These cards are the Goddesses of guidance, one for the past, the present, and the future,” Virginia explained. I looked at the three cards lying there. "So it's like tarot?” I asked. "Similar but not the same,” she said with a smile. "Hence, the use of the word ‘like,'” I mumbled under my breath. I treated tarot reading, much the same as I did my horoscope in the local paper. As a bunch of bull that never came true because it was far too generalised. They didn't tell you anything specific enough to actually do anything about it. It could tell you that you were going to experience some bad luck but it was always sketchy on the what and the when. "So tell me, what do they mean?" Virginia pointed her nail at the card to my left; she whipped her finger in a circle and the card flipped over. The card was called Rhiannon, sorceress. It pictured a woman with plants securing a lacy veil to her head. She wore a blue dress and was astride a unicorn under moonlight. Underneath were the words, you are a magical person who can manifest your clear intentions into reality . As I read them in my mind, I swear the woman riding the unicorn gave me a gentle look. I shook my head and put it down to my imagination. "This card represents the past,” she said. She moved her finger to the middle card and it flipped over. The woman looking up at me was coloured by the blue of the space around her; her third eye, yellow and green, stared at me. Her hand held a bright lotus flower and her lips seemed to curve into an almost evil smile. Kali, endings and beginnings, the old must be released so that the new can enter . "This is the present,” she continued. “Something in your life is either about to end or begin—something that could bring the end."

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"I don't like the ominous, Virginia,” I said with a slight warning in my voice. If I wasn't going to like this, she should really stop it. She rolled her eyes to the third card and flipped it. A red headed woman, held fire in her hands and Celtic marked trees grew up behind her. Brigit, don't back down; stand up for what you believe is right. If I was following it correctly, this last card symbolised the future. Something was coming in the present that would make me fight for what I believed in. Trouble was I wasn't sure I believed in anything. Virginia scooped up the three cards and turned them back over putting them into the box. She flipped the lid closed and whacked the catch down. I took a deep breath and turned my eyes towards her. She looked serious for a moment, then stood to put the box back in the trunk before shutting the lid. "Now.” She turned back around to me and gave me an elderly grin. “Tea?" I was still nodding, dumbly, as I took a seat at the kitchen counter. I watched her potter back and forth between the different cupboards in which she kept her tea, her cups, and her sugar. The sugar was for me. Virginia used sweeteners. Those little white pills that make your drink sweet but aren't actually sugar somehow. I didn't get the concept. I liked Virginia's kitchen, as all the cabinets were grouped close together. It left the rest of the kitchen free for a rocking chair in the corner and a huge hearth with a real fire in it. The house was so old, it had no heating other than wood fires and she didn't go in for appliances. No kettle, which meant she brewed the water for tea over the roaring flame. It whistled when it was hot enough and she used floral pattern oven gloves to take it off. They were burnt a little on one side, perhaps this Christmas, she'd like a new pair. Of course, I had no idea where to buy a pair of oven gloves. When things came out of my oven, I used a towel from the bathroom. The double click of her sweeteners brought me back to the room as she slid the cup under my nose. I thanked her and watched her lower herself into the rocking chair. She relaxed her shoulders, sunk into the cushions, holding her favourite china cup. There were cucumber sandwiches on the counter between us, that I must have missed her producing. I took one and nibbled on it. I actually like cucumber sandwiches and it often helped me manage through the tea. "So how are things?” she asked with genuine interest. Some people ask you even though they really don't care what the answer is. Virginia never asked questions unless she was sure she wanted them answered. "In general?” I asked. She nodded as I took a sip of the tea and kept the cringe to a minimum. "Things are all right,” I said. “It's the beginning of term at college, all my professors are nice." Virginia smiled gently. She could be the harshest teacher in the world but other times, she was everybody's grandmother—all soft and old like she couldn't hurt a fly. "And how is Nancy?” she asked. "She's a cat, Virginia,” I replied, perhaps a little too bluntly. "I know and rightly so, but that doesn't mean I can't inquire as to her health,” she said serious faced. Nancy isn't the normal name you would give a cat. Mainly because Nancy hadn't always been a cat.

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Two years ago, she'd been a regular human, a witch with amazing power. I met her after a month of switching sides and I'd confided in her. She was my first friend on this side and she was the first person to start to show me magic. I didn't know Nancy was considered headstrong and reckless. I followed her into trouble after trouble, until one big catastrophe led us to being arrested by the council of elders. Nancy, being older than I and the main reason for the trouble, was punished. As it wasn't her first offence, she was punished severely. The punishment had meant being demoted and forced back to a level four life form for the duration of five years. In her case, she'd chosen a cat. I, however, wasn't punished. No one had explained why I was given Virginia's number and sent on my way. No offer of a place in the school of magic. No request to take the official licensing exam. I apparently wasn't required to do either. What it meant, I didn't know, and whenever I asked Virginia, she very quickly and affectively changed subjects. The only explanation I'd ever been given was four words long. I wasn't a witch. I was fine with that but sometimes I thought, if I'm not a witch, how can I do magic? Anyway, Nancy was supposed to be left as a stray. Something in me couldn't allow it. She was still my friend. So now, she lived with me. I was responsible for her. "I haven't seen her tonight,” I said with all honesty. “I left some food and the bathroom window open so she can get in if she wants. But apart from that, I don't control her." "I see,” said Virginia coldly. Virginia didn't need to say much because body language said loads. She'd known Nancy when she was still apprenticed to a wizard. Nancy had broken from him after she'd gained her licence to practise and we both knew that had been a mistake. With no one to monitor her, she'd become a ticking time bomb. "Virginia, she's a cat,” I said. “There's nothing she can do." "She can still use telepathy,” she commented. "Only other witches and magic users can hear her. She can't do any harm, the council made sure of that, didn't they?" Virginia looked at me. I was young and she knew exactly what I was thinking. "You don't approve of the punishment?” She asked, taking a shot in the dark. I didn't know how to answer her. Nancy had done something wrong, I got that. In law, when you do something wrong you get punished, so in magic law it had to work the same way—otherwise, misuse would occur. Turning someone into a cat, however, seemed on some level to mess with human rights, mainly by taking the human out of it. What was worse, I was in it up to my elbows as well—so why wasn't I a cat too? I'd done the only thing I could, when you a) don't know what to say and b) don't want to get into an argument. "I'm fine with it." I lied. The one good thing about dealing with humans is that you can lie to them. There are other races on this side that lying to is virtually impossible. Elves are among them. "That's good,” she said, a smile returning to her face. “Drink your tea or it's going to get cold."

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Chapter Four I was glad when I got back home. There was something about visiting with someone so set in their ways, that was so tiring. My opinion on everything and everyone were still open to change. I saw a flick of a tail, just before Nancy leapt up onto the back of the armchair in front of me. She curled it around her and turned her cat yellow eyes to me. Her Persian face a little puckered. Where have you been? It always weirded me out when her so human voice came barging into my brain. Especially when I knew the voice was coming from the cat in front of me. "I had tea at Virginia's,” I said aloud. “She had some Goddesses talk to me." That old card trick. Never comes true. Nancy's upper body rolled, like she'd tried to shrug but had forgotten her body was no longer designed with shrugging in mind. "And here I thought I was the sceptic." I slid away from the door while taking my jacket off, and hung it on the nearby hook. All I wanted to do now was relax a little. If I had time, I could read a chapter ahead in my textbook. I had the strange feeling that if I didn't get ahead now, I'd fall behind later. Nancy jumped down onto the chair and hit the television remote. The screen came to life and she curled up happily to watch the latest in a long stream of reality TV shows she'd been into. I wandered into the back bedroom and looked at the half-stripped wallpaper and the newspaper sheets that covered the floor. I would finish decorating it eventually. I had the paint all picked out and everything. But, until the wallpaper was gone and the walls re-c0vered, I couldn't even think of purchasing paint. My textbook was sitting on my desk, which was pushed up against the one patch of wall where the paper had been taken off. A thick, chunky psychology textbook. I was taking psychology because I wanted to be a counsellor. I wanted to help people but I couldn't be a cop, because I didn't like guns. British police don't carry them, but the sodding criminals do. I wasn't getting shot at for bad pay and an unflattering uniform. So, I would settle for a chunky book full of a lot of cases I would have to learn the clinical terms for. I settled into a little groove on the couch. I've noticed, that people will always choose to sit in exactly the same place, in the same position, in a living room every time. My mother always used to sit in the armchair, her legs over the side, her head lolling over the other side, telling me how awful her working day had been. I would always sit on the couch, my back against the arm, my feet up, so I could rest a schoolbook on my bent knees. Now all I had was Nancy, engrossed by the TV. She could complain about her day to me but she'd really go on and I wasn't in the mood for one of the headaches it caused. Not that I was ever in the mood for a headache. Telepathy took a lot out of me, even receiving messages, and it's why I always talked out loud to Nancy. I knew she understood me. Once you've learned a language fluently, it's hard to forget, even if you do suddenly have four legs and fur.

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I was half way through a long study that Freud had documented when the phone rang. Freud was simple to get, as eventually, no matter the argument; he could bring a man's psychological problems back to their mothers. The phone kept ringing. I looked at where the receiver was and groaned; deciding, as I turned onto my side, to let the machine get it. Anyone who had my number on either side could call me no matter which side I was on. It meant I never missed a call. I didn't always answer them, but what were machines invented for if not to screen and ignore calls. Nancy laid her body on the remote and the TV volume shot up, drowning out all other sounds. After a minute, I stopped trying to strain to hear who was bothering me at this hour. Why did I need to be a psychologist? People already brought me their problems whether I wanted them or not. It was close to eleven o'clock and if I didn't have a job to do, I usually started thinking about bed. I closed my book and let out a deep breath. My concentration had been ruined and I couldn't get back into the text. I left it sitting on the couch and stretched while getting up. "If you don't want to switch over, remember to leave the flat before day,” I said, patting Nancy affectionately on the head. Her disposition was no sweeter as a cat than it had been as a human, because she bobbed her head away. I know the drill. "And turn the TV off this time." **** A dream came to me, as dreams often do, but none quite as strange as this one. I felt as if my skin was on fire, burning up from the inside of me, even the air in my lungs was short. Fingers wrapped around my wrists, holding me so I couldn't move, and I couldn't escape the heat. I felt my lips part as if to scream but no sound came out. It was like I couldn't manage it, then I felt as if a touch of ice was on my skin and it would only bring steam, when all I wanted was to make it stop. Aram's face was there in the dark near to mine. The expression in his eyes was something I'd never seen before, he was frightened. I could hear the groan of something, a thump and his mouth was open calling my name. "Cassie!" Something in my mind turned over, they were his lips, but the sound from between them wasn't. Aram had never called me Cassie, ever. The voice wasn't his. I sat up straight in bed, sweat was running down my body but my temperature was no higher than normal. The banging was coming from the front door and on the other side was the person calling my name. Sunlight was pouring in through the drapes. I was back on the good side. I pulled myself from bed grabbing my dressing gown to go open the door. I pulled it open and stared at my friend Incarra. She'd legally changed her name at eighteen before I'd met her. I didn't know whom she'd been born as. She was small, dressed in black combats with a silver chain hanging from her belt to her pocket. Black gloves with the fingers missing covered her hands as she held her sketchbook tight against her side. Her black hair was tied in high bunches, the ends dyed red and her thick black rimmed rectangular glasses perched on her pierced nose. Her tee was one of her favourites. Miss Muffit taking cupcakes out of a little pink oven with the words, ‘easy bake, my ass’

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underneath. She looked at me with her blue eyes, like she was going to burn a hole through me. She might have been threatening if I hadn't had six inches in height on her. "Cassie!” she steamed. “We were supposed to meet for coffee before morning classes." "I overslept. What's the time?” I asked sleepily. "Nine,” she said without even checking her watch. "Come in,” I said standing to one side, “I've got coffee here." "Yeah, but you don't have the cute barrister that Coffee Republic does,” whined Incarra. "I'm not gonna charge you two fifty." "Point,” she admitted with a small nod. I moved further aside and she walked in. I let the door slide out of my grip and close, then watched her walk into my kitchen. She knew where everything was. I looked down at her feet, she wore striped socks and a pair of canvas all stars that she'd attacked with glitter and stud guns. I'd never seen her not wearing them, she claimed she was born in them and she'd die in them. I believed it. "Go put some clothes on, we might be late as it is,” she said, waving me to the bedroom. I wandered back into my room, checking out the corner of my eye for Nancy. She wasn't in the armchair. She'd probably gone back out the bathroom window, as she didn't like the geographical changes the switch entailed. I sort of worried about her around Incarra. Incarra is what I would call sensitive. Something in her could tell there wasn't something right about my cat. I pulled on jeans and a plain green tee, then rooted around the room for my trainers and a hair tie. I sat down on the end of the couch. Incarra handed me a coffee. "You all right? You look a little flushed,” she asked. She walked back into the kitchen to get her cup, then stopped. "You've got a message, she leaned forward jabbing her finger down on the answer machine button. His smooth enchanting voice filled the air as I put my coffee down on the table. "Andra. We need to talk,” came Aram's smooth seductive voice. I leapt off the couch and slammed my hand down on the stop button; Incarra didn't need to know about Aram. It would lead to too many questions. "Damn it, girl, he sounds hot. You've been holding out on me." "It's not like that,” I stammered with embarrassment. “We're not ... We're barely even friends." She raised her eyebrows and her glasses slid down her nose so she could take me in with her eyes. "You do not jump a couch to stop a message, when it's no one.” She smirked, pushed her glasses back

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up her nose and sipped her coffee. “Let me guess, he's older than you." I nodded. Aram had once admitted to me that he was five hundred and twenty five years old. I guess that saying he was older than me was a little bit of an understatement. "Older men are so complicated, I stay away from them,” said Incarra. I nodded again, turning into a doggy on a dashboard. I couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't be stupid or suspicious. "You aren't with it this morning, are you?” she said. "No. I guess I'm not,” I said, scratching behind my ear. “I didn't sleep well." I went back to my coffee on the table and managed a few mouthfuls before I couldn't bear anymore. I set it down in the sink, running the cold tap into the top of it, watching a cascading fountain of caffeine. "What a waste of perfectly good coffee!” she whined. I looked up at her. Incarra was pouting a little as she watched it. She was a person who couldn't survive without coffee. "Finish up,” I said, “I'm gonna get my bag together." I wandered into the back room. My bag sat under my desk—a large carry all to manage my textbooks, notes, and sometimes my sports equipment. I was athletic without going overboard. I swung around the corner into the bathroom, closed the window, and grabbed my skates from where they hung over the tub. I shoved them into my bag and checked myself in the mirror, I couldn't leave the flat without knowing I looked alright. I skidded back out to stop in front of Incarra. I quickly raised my arms up and gave a broad smile. "Ta da!” I exclaimed cheerily. "You're stupid." I shrugged, grabbed my keys from the dish by the door, and ushered her out. I lived on the top floor. There was a lift but it was so slow, we took the stairs down and walked out into the sunlight. It was nice that September was still bright and warm. The leaves on the few trees along the street were turning from green to rustic yellows and oranges, on their way to brown before shedding for the winter. I felt sorry for them. They were caged; little wire circles surrounding their trunks to keep them in, their roots buried under layers of pipe and concrete. I stretched, took in a deep breath, then headed left towards town where the college was. "What have you got?” I asked Incarra. "Key skills. Hate it. Who decides that these are key skills and that we need to know them? If they could, they'd still class key skills for a woman as knowing how to cook and mend socks,” she complained. "It's only an hour a week,” I said it like it was nothing. "An hour a week that I am not going to get back." I gave a little laugh, I wasn't going to argue with her, she could get very self-righteous. I liked it about

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her, but only when it was safely directed at someone else. She walked a little ahead of me, as I had a tendency to walk slow, long, relaxed strides. I didn't really enjoy hurrying. I hated to run even more. She turned around looking at me. "Key skills make me depressed,” she said with a heavy sigh. “How about after classes we go to a movie? I hear there's a new one by Torentino." "I'd love to but I have two classes today and then I'm going to the rink later." Incarra looked at her watch. “Jeez, is it Wednesday already,” she chuckled. "You saying I'm becoming predictable,” I said with mock anger. She held her fingers apart a little and I swiped at her. Of course, her being six inches shorter meant there was little danger of me hitting her, if she ducked out of the way. She laughed at me, poking her tongue out turning around and walking ahead of me again. Incarra took art classes most of the time. She was going to be famous. She liked to paint and draw but she was heavily into metal sculpture at the moment and very secretive about letting anyone see it. **** The college complex is on the hill above the river. I like the psychology classroom, as it has a great view down the gardens to where the Severn flows serenely through Worcester. I wasn't paying attention in my lesson, as my head was on the images outside. Where a mother watched her toddler running around the shooting water fountains in front of Browns. Running into it when they were down and running back out, as the water shot up through the ground. The mother sat at a table in front of the Browns café enjoying lemonade. I couldn't actually see what her drink was from this distance, but it was my imagination. I decided it was lemonade, to quench the heat of the day. The window was ajar, letting a light breeze flow through the room, turning the page in my book. I wasn't even reading it anymore as the droning voice of my teacher became little more than background noise. I couldn't concentrate, because my mind kept drifting back to the dream I'd had this morning. Why had I felt on fire? Why had Aram been in my dream, only to be the voice on my answer machine in the morning? He wanted to talk to me. He could have said something to me last night, rather than hitting on me. If he didn't mess about so much, maybe I wouldn't have gotten angry with him and we'd have got to the point. I was not going to run after him to find out what it was, the less I had to deal with him the better, most of the time. "Miss Farbanks?” The masculine voice shook me from my peaceful thoughts. I turned my head and my teacher was bearing down on me. I looked at the other students around the room; they were all looking at me as well. "Do you want to pay attention or do you already know what I'm going to say?” he asked haughtily. I let my eyes roll down to the page we were on, then raised them back up with a little bit of a smug grin on my face. He was not going to make me a fool or ashamed. "Yes, sir,” I said politely. “I read this chapter three days ago." He coughed, and there was a little snicker, as most of the people in my class are younger than me. It didn't take a lot to make them laugh, as most of them weren't long out of junior school. He moved away from me continuing to go through the chapter. He didn't come back to me again, no matter how absent-minded I looked. As long as I wasn't disrupting the class, he was smart enough to leave me alone.

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I was so glad when class was over. I headed straight to the canteen to find out it was Mexican day. Every so often, the canteens in any institution, to increase foot traffic, come up with some loony marketing idea. Yesterday had been Spanish day; seeing as the two were so related, it was just a way of using the leftovers. I settled for chips—no matter what day it was they did chips, and some chilli con carne in a dish. I settled into a chair by the window. I put my feet on the chair next to me, leaned back against the glass, and tried not to think anymore. I closed my eyes, twirling a spoon around in the thick dark chilli. I thought I was going to fall back to sleep until a tray banged down on the table next to me. I opened my eyes and rolled my head to the right. "Hey, girlfriend,” he said, his voice cheery. "Hey, Anton,” I said back. Anton smiled at me, it made his entire face light up and you had to knock about two years off how old you thought he was. His smile was deceptive because you should be adding years on, not subtracting them. He had brown hair cut to short little spikes that were immaculately gelled, tips bleached blonde, the base still his natural brown. His brown eyes seemed so innocent, and although approaching his late twenties, he was dressed in torn jeans and a red styled tank top, the fashioned for the teen market at the moment. I like Anton, although he couldn't be gayer if he bled rainbows. He liked women in the wanted-to-be one way, but not an ‘it puts the lotion in the basket’ way. He had a new boyfriend every two weeks. If a relationship of his lasted longer than that, we started holding pools. He was always falling in love, convinced that this one was the one . He was my biology lab partner and we had biology this afternoon. He was studying to be a nurse. There were few career opportunities open to you, when you wanted to be gay and ironic at the same time. I was making my own little bet in my head on how long it took us to get onto his newest relationship. "What's up?” I asked. "I think I've met the one ,” he said, with a shiny look in his eyes. Apparently, not that long. I took my fork from the side of my plate, remembering I'd come in here to eat. "And what's his name this week?” I asked, trying not to laugh. He gave me a cross look, he hadn't appreciated my tone. It was only because he didn't believe he was truly like how he was, but since I had nowhere to write ‘classic denial,’ I moved on. "So tell me about him?” I feigned interest. He cheered up and was in instant gossip mode. "He's called Gary. I met him at the tap. He's a musician." There isn't a huge gay scene in this town, and what little there is, is known by all. The tap was a pub. It's known as the gay hang out, if it wasn't one originally, then it was now. They all go there, with the theory they will meet others of the same persuasion. "A musician? That's not your usual type,” I said, with some astonishment. "I know but he's just dreamy,” Anton cooed. “If you saw him, you'd want him." I shook my head, blowing over the chilli and taking a big mouthful. I did my best thoughtful face.

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"Somehow finding that we both like men as the only thing we have in common might be a little downer on the relationship." "Then it's a good thing he's not for you." I laughed. I didn't understand people who got all gooey over relationships. Especially people who thought they were in love with someone after only seeing them once. That whole ‘love at first sight’ stupidity. "Mmm, good thing,” I said. He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at me with those innocent eyes all a gleam. "Speaking of men,” he said slowly. “Who was the mysterious voice on the answer machine this morning?" Damn. Incarra. It smelt of her, right down to the text message that had to be in the inbox on his phone. I knew I would someday regret introducing the two of them. I just wish it hadn't been today. "Like I told Incarra,” I said, trying to stop the conversation before it got started, “nobody." "Nobody?” he asked quizzically. "Just somebody I've worked with,” I replied, trying once again to wave it away. "Oh. From your mysterious night job, which we are not allowed to know any details of. If men are involved,” his smile widened, “you're not a call girl, are you?" I spat my mouthful right out, all over the table, to strange looks from the people around me. Anton had leapt back a little in his chair. I started laughing and pulled the napkin from under my dish, wiping it up. Anton slowly moved his chair back in. "So that's a no,” he checked. "That's a ‘hell no.’ Of all the things I've ever been accused of,” I said, half way between a cough and a laugh. Aram would have loved that thought. Me being in any way salacious; he'd have laughed himself a heartbeat. "I didn't mean it like that,” he said. I raised my eyebrows at him. "Okay. Maybe I meant it like that. It would be a little fun if you were. Well fun for me." "I think you have issues,” I pointed out, using my fork for emphasis. "I have hunger issues,” he grinned. “You gonna eat the rest of that?" I looked at the screwed up napkin in my hand and pushed the tray over to him. I'd suddenly lost the

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desire to eat. He devoured it like a starved puppy. Sometimes I swore the boy didn't eat, not unless there was someone else's food going. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Five I was relieved to be done for the day and moving on to do one of my favourite things. During the months of September through to March, the Sheriff Street pool became an ice rink. During the spring and summer months if I wanted to skate, I had to go to Birmingham. Ice-skating wasn't a passion. I wasn't going to go professional, even though I'd been told I could. It was something I liked to do, to relax, for the sheer joy of gliding across the ice. The rink wasn't packed. There were a few free skaters in the middle and an instructor was taking a class of three around the edge to build their confidence. I've had my skates since my feet stopped growing in size. My mother had bought them for me as a gift to mark the occasion. She marked the most inane occasions. I'd been skating since I was a little girl. My mother always used to watch from the bench at the side, she'd never been on the ice. She didn't swim either. I think she may have even been afraid of water, but she was never one to admit to her fears. Neither had she been one to try and conquer them. She'd been happy just to be. When I'd been a little girl, it had been Torville and Deane doing the Bolero that had made me want to skate. Just watching the poetry of their movements had inspired me. It made me want to learn to move with the same grace that they showed. I took to the ice like a penguin. Skating simple patterns at first and then testing myself by upping the difficulty. I ended by skating backwards through the middle, careful to avoid the others around me, turning to a gasp from the new learners. I was modest everywhere else but on the ice—here I showed off, because my audience was always complete strangers. Then a knot tied in my stomach. I slid into the edge and grabbed the side. I could feel a tingle in my arm. I'd been skating longer than I'd thought and the sun was going down. I hobbled up onto the matting by the bench where I'd left my bag and shoes. I grabbed hold of them and it hit me like a wave. A wave that washed me between dimensions and suddenly I was standing in the dark, clutching my bag. On this side, everything closed by sundown in town. Things came crawling out after dark that people were too afraid to meet face to face. I dropped my bag aiming for the bench, and raised my hand up making the warmth that was my power come to me. "Lights,” I cried out. One by one, the lights overhead flickered on and I stood in the rink. It was completely empty, the ice was all mine and I couldn't resist. I left my bag where it had fallen and went back out onto the ice. The freedom to move how I liked, to jump, to spin, then glide around, without the fear of running into anyone. Glorious. Then I began to think. I'd been standing right by the edge of the rink. I hoped nobody had noticed that I'd suddenly disappeared. If I was out and about at switch over—which to be honest I wasn't a lot of the time—I liked to be down an alley or hidden so no one could see me. Most people would dismiss it, like they'd blinked and missed where I'd walked off to. But there were some, the sensitive or the paranoid type, who would see it as odd. I should have been keeping an eye on the time. I skated to the edge, almost tripping as I made it out to the bench to change my shoes. I had to get home, Nancy would be waiting for something to eat.

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I unzipped my bag and the sound was loud in the empty room. I pulled my left skate up, clicked the black guard into place and moved to the second. I stilled as I heard a sound that wasn't me. It sounded like a window breaking; I was quicker getting my second boot off and my shoes on. Footsteps were coming closer. I didn't think they had night security here and if they did, why would they break the window? I hurried to make sure I had everything and moved to the right side lockers where there was a juice bar. If I waited, whoever was coming towards me would pass it. I could cut through and go back along the path they'd just walked. It was the only way to the fire exit. I kept my breathing quiet and listened to the footsteps coming closer and closer. I couldn't hear their breath or their heartbeat only the echo of their footsteps. Whoever they were, they were good, stealthy. Maybe it was a burglar; even on this side, you still had crime. I leaned around the edge of the lockers looking across the way, the figure was moving towards the rink. If I cut the lights now, it would be easy to escape. I closed my eyes, focusing. The lights blinked out, like snuffing out an electric candle, and I ran. The figure turned at the sound of my feet but they would never reach me in time to stop me. I slammed into someone and was grabbed from behind. He wouldn't have reached me if he was human and he'd been alone. A torch shone in my face. "Is it her?” he asked the other. "Yeah that's her,” he said, with a lot of confidence. The grip on my arms increased and I squealed. Whoever was holding onto me definitely wasn't human, the lack of breath and no heartbeat made sense now. The man holding onto me was a vampire. I was in for a trip to a place I really didn't like to go. **** I'd not stepped foot inside Dante's Inferno more than twice since the night I'd met Aram. As I was pulled through the oh, so familiar scenery, I was left with the same feeling I had each time. I did not like this place. On the other side, this was Tramp's Nightclub. I'd been inside once or twice when my mother was alive and it was a lot nicer. Dante's however was a private club and bar for vampires and vampire lovers. It was like being thrown into the lion's den dressed like a pork chop, as they all looked at you like you were dinner, even the female ones. I had been forced into a car, then taken by the two guys into the club. I was unable to get any purchase on my feet as they were dangling an inch or so from the floor. Whatever I had done to them now, I was not worming out of it. Of course, I had no idea what I'd done to piss off the local vampires. I was dropped rudely on the main floor. I was a little dazed but not enough to forget to protect myself. I felt for a piece of chalk, loosening it from its hidden pocket in my jacket sleeve, made a circle with it bringing up a shield before I even turned to face the chatter behind me. I was kneeling right before Jareth, the kiss leader—kiss being the name for a group of vampires. He controlled all the vampires in the city and was the top badass vampire. Next to him stood Aram, his body leisurely positioned to rest against his chair. Jareth scowled at me, his face was more masculine than Aram's, older. His eyes were meant to be menacing but they didn't scare me. Not only was his anger a lot for show, but I was hugely pissed off myself for being dragged there. "Ok,” I said, breaking the silence, “you're mad at me. Care to tell me why?" His fingers dug into the arms of his chair, my tone had obviously been disrespectful. Jareth was very old

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fashioned, he was in charge and he believed that demanded respect. I'd always believed that respect had to be something you earned. "You refused our brother's invitation to meet in a place of your choosing, we will now do things on my terms,” he said gruffly. I stood up, my shield extending with my stature. I was not staying on the ground before him. I was not less than he was. "I do not recall..." "My brother visited you, did he not?” he barked interrupting me. I looked at Aram; he was pretending to be oh so innocent, even though his smile betrayed that he'd enjoyed seeing me dragged before them. Sometimes, I forgot while looking at them, that in life, the two of them had been siblings, and now together they stayed in their undead state. You wouldn't know they were related by looking, as Jareth's hair was much darker, nearing black, longer and straighter than Aram's. His shoulders were broader and he looked like he'd been a soldier, while Aram had been a social parasite. I mean socialite. Jareth's mouth was framed by the smooth black hair of a van dyke beard. I'd never seen him clean-shaven but I was sure it would take years off him. As he was now, he looked a bit like he should be a sheriff in Nottingham. "You're brother propositioned me, but he mentioned no meeting,” I said, crossing my arms. Jareth cast his eyes and only his eyes in his brother's direction. Aram just smiled at him shrugging his shoulders. "You said she refused you,” he questioned. "In a manner of speaking,” replied Aram, the first signs of guilt beginning to show in his voice. Jareth groaned and rubbed his temples with his fingers. "Your manner of speaking and the truth hardly ever correlate these days,” he said with a long sigh. “I apologise for my rough treatment of you, Miss Farbanks. You may lower your shield. You shall not be harmed." "Your word?” I made it a question. "My word.” He made it a statement. If there was one thing I could trust from these people, it was that their word meant something. They were not what you would imagine from the things you watch on TV, as a group, in general, they were extremely well mannered and cultured. There were your groups of vindictive anarchists, but the main body of vampiric society suffered as much from their misdeeds as humans did. I wiped the chalk outline away with my foot and came forward. "So he did not make our offer?” Jareth asked. "He had his invitation revoked because he cannot behave himself. I thought you were all supposed to have good manners."

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He looked at me with his cross-eyes again. "My brother is a lover of obstinate women. I am not,” he admitted. “You will kindly speak with less of a tone towards me." "You said you wouldn't harm me,” I said, taking a step back from Jareth. "Yes,” he said. “But here you have no control over Aram, he may charm you to death. We will discuss our business more in private." He stood up, sweeping the large cloak that draped around his body. I turned away from him, looking toward the edge of the floor, where one of the vampires that had dragged me in was holding my bag. I walked over to him. "I believe that is mine,” I said, reaching for it. He rolled his body back so that I couldn't take it from him. Jareth and Aram stopped to look at the vampire who was holding my bag. "Are you carrying a weapon in there?” Jareth asked. "Not unless you find books and ice skates terribly threatening." He made eye contact with his underling. "Give her the bag,” he commanded. I took it sliding the strap over my shoulder and turned to follow along behind the two brothers. I felt eyes burning into me and looked carefully to my left, and saw Dusk staring at me. Dusk was a young female vampire. When I say young; although she was in her twenties when she was made, she hadn't been a vampire for very long. Ten years at most and she hated me. She hated me because Aram paid attention to me, a mere human. I was technically socialising above my station. I didn't care a lot for her either. She was a bitch beyond all measure, snotty and forever young. I ignored her stares and followed in through the doorway that Aram was holding open for me. I could hear her getting all riled up as I walked through, not even thanking him for holding it. I probably would have thanked him if she hadn't have been giving me the death stares. We travelled into the back where the higher up vampires had rooms. Jareth lead the way into his where we could have this conversation that required privacy. His room was like stepping into the past, oaken dressers, a carved bed larger than anything we made today. A table with chairs, for sitting and playing with the chess set sitting on top of a cabinet. There were no windows, so the overhead light was an extremely high wattage. Candles around the room were burnt down, showing a preference for mood lighting. He shrugged off his huge cloak laying it over the corner of his bed. Jareth stretched and his hair fell down his back, stark against his white shirt. A dark red cloth was wrapped and tied around his waist, above black trousers so tight the material hugged his buttocks seductively. I averted my eyes as he turned around to face me. I didn't want either of them to see the way I'd watched him. When he turned around, his face was still serious. I don't think I had ever seen Jareth smile. He was the complete opposite to his brother in all ways. "Please take a seat,” he said waving his hand in an offering gesture. I moved towards one of the chairs. I fell into it and let my bag slide off my shoulder onto the floor; it made a clunk sound, drawing attention.

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"What did you say was in there?” asked Aram "Books and my skates,” I said slightly annoyed to be repeating myself. "I did not know that you enjoyed skating,” he said. I looked over to Aram who was settling himself on the end of his brother's bed, reclining back on his arms. "That's because, contrary to your belief, you do not know everything about me." "A little mystery is so romantic though,” he said with a smile across his lips. I rolled my eyes away from him as he flexed his body until he was further up on the bed. Jareth remained standing. "Brother, please—this is a serious matter,” he said, reprimanding him. Aram rolled his shoulders elegantly while flicking his curls back from his face, his eyes for me and me alone. "What can I do for you, Jareth?” I asked. “I'd like it if we got to the point." He nodded in agreement, pacing back and forth as his words came to him. "Some of my people have gone,” he hesitated, “missing." "Hunter?” I asked. It was a one word question that needed no explanation. Vampires were not the favourite preternatural group. There were people out there who would prefer to see them all dead, if they had the time and the manpower. "One missing, I would have believed that perhaps they had run afoul of a hunter, but three are gone,” he admitted sadly. “One was a dear friend, careful and true." "Did you talk to Rourke?” It was the first thing I could think of to suggest. Samantha Rourke, as much as I didn't really care for her, was good at her job. She was in charge of PCU, the Preternatural Crime Unit. She hated the job, felt as if it was punishment for dismissing the advances of her pigheaded boss. Rourke was a strong woman with a doll's face, it was as if the Hulk and Lady Penelope had had a child. "She is of little help. She is more concerned with the crimes committed by our societies than those committed against us,” he said, the tiniest tinge of anger entered his voice. I couldn't argue, as Rourke tended to see the world in shades of black and white. Humans good, monsters bad. She forgot there were all sorts of shades of grey. There were times when the worst crimes committed by humans led to the use of the word ‘monster.' "Any leads?” I asked, trying not to head into anything blind. "I am afraid we know little,” Jareth sighed. “There have been no bodies to speak of. People do not just disappear, Miss Farbanks."

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"If you want me to help, you can start by dropping the formality." Jareth looked at me questioningly. Obviously, he didn't understand why he, being so polite, made me uncomfortable. I didn't either, but I suppose it made me feel too on the outside, to be addressed by surname and title all the time. "I do not understand,” he stammered. "She wishes you to use her name, don't you, Andra,” said Aram in an attempt to be helpful. "Only you call me that, but it's what I would prefer." Jareth's face remained serious, although something about his eyes took on a more gentle persuasion. I felt a little more comfortable than I had done. "Very well, Cassandra,” he said, taking the time to roll his tongue over my name. “I have come to you because Aram believes that not only can we trust you, but that you could use your craft to locate them." Locating spells were easy enough but I needed something personal, something that had belonged to each of the missing. It had to be something that had their touch—their scent on so that the spell could follow. I nodded. "I can do it,” I said, with confidence. “But I will need something of theirs." "I will speak to their hosts,” he said, standing abruptly. “Aram will entertain you, I shall return momentarily." He was out of the door before I could object. Being left alone with Aram was not a good idea, as he had said before, here, I had no control over him. If he went too far, I could not force him to leave. Aram smiled at me. "Why do you sit so far away from me?” he said, edging forward on the bed. "It's safer." He laughed and my skin tingled. I pressed my fingers into the chair so that the skin ached just enough for me to focus on it. "I cannot entertain you,” he grinned, “if you will not come near me." "I don't care for your type of entertainment, Aram,” I reminded him. “I thought I'd made that clear when I evicted you from my apartment.” I blinked and he was gone from the bed. His hand came from behind me stroking the flesh of my neck under my chin. The caress was soft and slow. "You only evict me when you let your body go further than your mind likes,” he said. His lips were just inches from my skin so that he could blow air over it, making goose bumps ripple up my neck. I shook myself while pushing out of the chair. He stood behind it with a seductive smile on his face. I ran my eyes over the open gap in his shirt, at the sleekness of the skin underneath, as his hands ran down the silky material around it knowing that I was looking. "Aram,” I said, anger creeping into my voice. “Stop it!"

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"Stop what?” he asked, with a graceful shrug. "Whatever vampire trick you're using." He moved toward me, raising my chin with his fingers and I was forced to look into those eyes. I saw his desire shining in them, reflecting only my face, and it brought heat to my cheeks. "When have I ever tried to trick you?” he asked. His thumb slid away down my skin following the line of my throat as I swallowed hard. His face came towards mine. I put my hand on his chest to stop him but my finger slid on the slick silk and onto his skin. "You're so cold,” I said, with some surprise. I went spinning and I was on my back, the softness of the bed enveloping me, and he pulled his shirt over his head in a quick fluid movement. The whole of his chest was like an alabaster sculpture; there were muscles there that I didn't even know a person could have. He pressed it all over me and I was beginning to see a pattern emerge in our meetings of late. "Perhaps you could warm me,” he cooed seductively. He tried to move closer to kiss me, but I turned my head away. The pulse in my neck thudded and suddenly it had his undivided attention. His grip on my arms became painful as I turned to look at him. His eyes were hungry, one look at my pulse and I was food. He hadn't taken blood tonight. "Aram? No!” I cried out. His hand wrapped in my hair, holding me so that I couldn't shield my neck. His eyes were growing dark with lust of a different kind, blood lust. He moved down, his tongue ran over the skin, wet and rough. "Aram! Stop!” I made my voice come out louder, hoping someone in the corridor would hear and come in. "Your blood would be so warm." He hissed as his mouth widened and I could feel the brush of his fangs. I began to panic. This wasn't the first time he'd tried to bite me, he'd tried when we first met. He had mistaken me for a vampire groupie and my power had blasted him across the room in self-defence. I had more control now, but I still didn't want to hurt him. "You smell of fear,” he said, taking the smell of me in deep. “You smell so good." "Aram! Don't!" I pushed my hands between our bodies, which was the last warning I was giving him. I didn't want to hurt him but it didn't mean that I wouldn't. His hand in my hair really tightened and I knew he was gone. I was bringing my power forth when he went hurtling backward. Jareth's hand gripped his neck and he threw him to the floor. "Have you become a blood thirsty beast, brother?” he growled.

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Jareth stood between Aram and me as I pulled myself up, wiping a hand over my neck. Jareth touched my shoulder. Aram looked at him angrily. "She is mine,” he snarled. "I am not taking her from you but we only take blood from those that want it—or have you forgotten that. Leave, drink, and only come before me again when you are civil,” said Jareth, authority filling his voice. Aram pulled himself to his feet and stormed out of the room. I let out a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding. Looking at the two of them, I'd thought they were going to fight. Jareth's hand touched my face but only to move it so he could see the line of my neck. "You are not hurt,” he said with relief. “That is good." "Yeah, lucky for him you came in or he was about to get a very sore trip across the room,” I said gruffly. I couldn't help it, I was so angry. He extended his hand to me and helped me to my feet. I could do with some standing. I'd been pinned down twice in two days. I have to say I didn't care for it. "I talked to my people, they will bring those things to me tomorrow night,” he said, getting back to business. I moved towards my bag taking it as an excuse to leave. "Contact me tomorrow and I will come back." "Do not think ill of him,” he said softly. “We have less control before we feed." "Is that so?” I said, sounding like I didn't believe him. But the truth was that I really did believe it and that it made them all the more dangerous. I picked up my bag sliding the strap up my shoulder; he was watching me. I could feel his eyes on my back and for some reason I suddenly felt shy. "He wants you!” he said rather bluntly. "And let me guess. You don't see why?” I said, not sure whether I was prepared to be offended or not. "No. I see exactly why. I am not blind." I turned to look at him; he turned his head to the side. It may have been my ego swelling, but I was pretty sure the big kiss leader had been admitting, he had checked me out. I moved towards the door. "Guess I'll be seeing you,” I said, trying to make it a goodbye. "I think my brother is quite in love with you." His words stopped me dead in my tracks as I was walking through the doorway. Did vampires know how to love? I looked at Jareth.

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"He speaks about you often. He thinks of you more. Do you think about him?” Jareth asked. "He thinks too much of himself to require the help of another person." Jareth half choked as a laugh erupted from his throat. A deep masculine laughter that filled the room. Something about that laugh unnerved me and I couldn't leave fast enough. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Six I took the quickest route home but at the slowest pace. I kept thinking about what Jareth had said and what I'd said to him. The streets were quiet. The further out from the centre the less noise there was. Town was safer; there were places you could hide. Nancy was sitting leisurely over two steps at the front of the building, her tail swished impertinently. Do you know how long I've been here? "Relax,” I said, bending down to pick her up. “I was accosted by the vampires." Be careful it doesn't happen again. Behind you. She scurried up inside the building and I swung my arm back catching the edge of the hooded figure behind me. They jumped out of the way. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to sneak up on people?” I was defensive as if expecting another fight. "Cassandra Farbanks?” The voice that asked was deeply masculine. I eased out of my stance to stand slightly more relaxed. "Who wants to know?” I asked, trying to peer through the shadows that were hiding his face. "I have a job for you." His hands were darkly tanned, as they rose up to the edge of the hood and pulled it down, revealing platinum blonde hair. His eyes were grey like storm clouds and ears stuck out from his head, pointed to a greater angle then humans. I sneered and turned to go. "I don't do work for the Dark Court." The guy was an elf and what was worse, he was a Dark elf of the Dark Court. Dark Court Elves reviled all lower beings, practiced dark magic, and still held sacrifices. I didn't approve of their practices and the rest of the magical community, frowned upon anyone who was involved them. You could tell Dark Elves from their tanned skin and white coloured hair. Elves of the Light Court were the exact opposite, pale and dark haired. They were users of pure white magic and had co-operation treaties with almost every

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race in the preternatural community, except the Dark Court, who were their sworn enemies. Both sides were famous for their stoicism. "I'm not a Dark Elf!” he exclaimed. He was a little off colour but mutations happen. I moved closer. He didn't move away as my hand moved up to his face. I poked him in the cheek. "Well” I said. “You are slightly paler then most." "Do you mind?” He pushed my hand away, looking slightly cross as if he got that sort of treatment a lot. "And you have emotions? You're not all vulcanised." He cocked his eyebrow at me suspicious. "Rubbery?” he asked. "Ok. I'll take it that you're not a Star Trek fan. If you're not Dark Court, who are you?” I crossed my arm waiting for his answer. "My name is Magnus Reynolds,” he said, with a tiny theatrical bow. That wasn't a Dark Court name; they had names made up of words like ‘black’ and ‘blood.’ In fact, it was a rather human sounding name so I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Keep talking,” I said, not bothering to keep suspicion out of my voice. "I'm from the Whittington commune." "You're a long way from home then,” I said, turning towards the building. “I suppose you'd better come in." He looked at the building we stood in front of. The downstairs windows were boarded up and it looked as abandoned as it was. I started up the stairs. "You can stand here in the cold or you can follow me." I kept walking not looking back toward him. I heard his footsteps follow hesitantly. I headed up to the cage elevator, it still worked but you had to kick the controls when you passed the fourth floor. He hesitated at the threshold of the elevator. "You're welcome to take the stairs, if you don't mind that part of the third floor landing is missing." He moved into the elevator and watched me press the buttons for the top. I kicked it as we passed the fourth floor and he clung to the bars. "What are you doing?” he asked, fear clear in his voice. "Don't ask.” I replied smiling.

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We continued up to my floor. The doors jutted open and Nancy was sitting in front of the apartment door, giving me her best catty smile. I routed around in my pocket for my keys. "You can't seriously live here,” he said, looking around at the deteriorated condition of the corridor. "The outside may not look like much but that's good,” I pushed the door open allowing him to see the inside of my apartment. “It means people don't bother me." Nancy went in taking up her place on top of the armchair. I held the door open and he came inside. His eyes opened wide as he looked around, as if unable believe this was my place. He's not too bright, is he? I shut the door choosing to ignore her being catty. I was going on the theory that these days she just couldn't help it. I dumped my bag on the kitchen counter and stripped out of my jacket. Magnus had his head in my bedroom. "Do you mind?” I said, imitating the same tone he'd used on me earlier. He stood back and moved around into the living area still staring. "You must excuse me, but what magic is this?” he asked. "It's not magic. It's called interior design. Sit down before you injure your neck or something. You want something to drink?" "Drink?” he asked sceptically. "I'm being polite." He nodded, saying a drink would be nice and taking a seat in the armchair. Nancy coiled around him, then moving down into his lap, she brushed against him. He stroked her head gently. I made her some dinner and placed it on top of the surface. "Nancy, din dins,” I said, in the voice people only use on animals or babies. She skipped off him and headed for the plate. She had to be starving by now. I don't know if she ate during the day when I wasn't around. "Nancy is an unusual name for a cat,” he commented. "True but she's only going to be one for three more years." Magnus looked a little unsettled. "You mean she's a human in cat form.” He shifted in his seat. “That's disturbing." Wasn't so disturbing when he was tickling under my chin. I gave her a look, telling her to keep things to herself, when I realised he was looking between us completely oblivious. He couldn't hear her.

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"You're not pure elf are you?" He didn't seem too shocked by my question. I guess he'd been asked that before as well. "No. My mother was human. I am not magically inclined." That explained it then. Only magically inclined people could hear Nancy when she transmitted her thoughts. He looked like a Dark Elf but if he were half human, neither court would have welcomed him. "You said you come from the Whittington Commune. What is it exactly?” I changed the subject quickly. "It's a community free of either the Light or the Dark Court. Elves and humans, and Light and Dark Elf families can live in peace without judgement. My step-father is leader there.” He said the last bit without any pride. I'd heard rumours of a safe haven for court outcasts, but I'd not actually been to it or met anyone from it. I tended to have as little to do with elves as possible. Elves weren't completely emotionless; they had great control and self-restraint. However, they tend to view humans as a race ruled by their emotions, weaker than themselves. But even elves were not above love. Elves fell in love just like everyone else. Sometimes with elves of their own Court, sometimes with humans—and even sometimes with elves of the other Court. The last two often meant they could no longer live among other elves, and living among humans left them open to just as much prejudice. "Well I always guessed they had to live somewhere.” I reached around pulling open the fridge door. I had a four pack of beer sitting in the back and the milk was beginning to look iffy, so I ruled a cup of coffee out. I flicked the caps off onto the side and, holding the neck loosely with two fingers, dangled it over him. His hand took it and cradled it against his chest gently, but he didn't drink. I dropped down onto the couch and downed half of mine before even giving him another look. His face was filled with worry, something was seriously wrong with his life and he'd brought his problem to me. I swear there was a sign on my door saying ‘emotional baggage welcome.' "You mentioned you had a job for me?” I said, striking up conversation again. He turned his head toward me, his storm cloud eyes looking like the rain would come any minute. My face must have softened because he made a weak smile. "My sister is missing,” he said, fondling the beer in his hands. "Missing?” I didn't realise I'd said it aloud until he nodded in acknowledgement. "When did you last see her?” I went straight into business mode as I dug out a mental notepad in my mind, ready to make notes of the important things. "A week ago, but her father was the last to see her. That was yesterday morning." Right. I scratched my head. I told myself to remember to ask all the questions you've seen the police ask people on the TV, when something like this happens. "Not to sound insensitive or anything but are you sure she's missing? Is there somewhere she could have gone? A friend? A boyfriend? Someone she might have run off with?" "She is too young to be interested in men,” he sneered in that big brother way. The way that denotes

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protectiveness and naivety at the same time. “Her friends are all at the commune and none have seen her." "So she could have a boyfriend?” I asked. "Didn't I just say...?” he said gruffly. "Unless she's five or something, you're her brother; you don't think about her and men. You say no, but really you just don't know for sure." He sat back in his chair a little brought down. His mind was probably rolling through all the things he didn't know whether she had done or not. Great, I'd probably ruined the perfect image of his darling baby sister as some sort of angel. "How old is she?” I got back to the questions. "There are six years between us,” he said, contemplating his words. "What sixteen, seventeen?” I asked, because that didn't really give me an answer. "Forty-six." Suddenly I felt my mouth drop, so far that it would have rolled across the floor with disbelief if in a cartoon. The half elf man who sat before me didn't look as if he was even in his twenties. "No way." "If I am fifty two, then,” he said, completely straight faced, “yes, she was forty six this year." I found myself staring at my feet dumbly, trying to work out exactly how many years that put between her and me. Twenty-five. It made me wonder what I could possibly do to help. I was a child in comparison. "You're shocked? We're both half elf, and elves age at a quarter the rate of humans. We age at a half rate. By my step-father's standards, we are both still children." "Well, you don't look your age, so I suppose that's a good thing,” I said, with a smile, trying to hide how embarrassed I'd been. His eyes were soft and gentle as he looked at me, as if seeing for the first time how terribly young I was by elf standards. I liked his eyes. They were the focal point of his handsome face; they drew you to look at him. His jaw was sort of squared in a masculine way but his skin was tight and young. He wasn't clean-shaven but a five o clock shadow hadn't taken hold yet. With worry, men tended to forget to do things like shave. His bottom lip was thicker and fuller than the top, making his smile almost a movement of his upper lip. My heart skipped a little beat and I downed some more of my beer turning away. "Did you call the police?” I asked, trying to compose myself better. "Yes. They said I must wait for forty-eight hours before I can file a missing person's report. Even then there is no guarantee they will look very hard for a missing half breed."

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Rourke's department was getting all sorts of bashing tonight and I wasn't going to sit there defending it. Mainly because I had a tendency to agree. His teethed clenched a little as he said the word ‘half-breed.’ I did that when I didn't like using certain words although technically they were correct. "I'll see what I can do. I'm doing a location spell tomorrow for another—” I gritted my teeth. “— client with a similar problem. I don't see why I couldn't expand the spell to include your sister." I hated the use of the word ‘client.’ It always sounded slightly shady to me. ‘Client’ was a word used as an euphuism often for—as Anton had so delicately put it—call girls. "What will you require?” he asked. "Something of hers." "That I can provide." I moved from the sofa to a draw in the kitchen, where I kept an actual pad and pen for writing down information. I wrote down my numbers on it. "The top one's my home but if you can't get me here, that's my mobile. Call me tomorrow. I'll have figured out a where and a when by then." "What about,” he paused trying to word it right. “I assume you charge." "We can discuss it at a later date. I mean, I'm not totally convinced she hasn't gone off to do something on her own and will be back tomorrow or something." "It's not like her to leave the commune without telling anyone." "Can we go there?” The words came out before I could stop them. "Where?” he asked. "To the commune." He didn't speak for a minute. I didn't know why I'd said that. I'd only just gotten home. There was just something about this that felt hinky, like I should believe him. But I didn't accept anything at face value anymore. It was weird for me to be approached once about a missing person. Twice—and in the same night—made my own version of a spider sense tingle. Magnus put his drink down on the table and nodded. He'd not even touched it. "We can go, but we must go now before it gets any later." "Alright,” I said, a little flustered, because he was being so obliging that it was disarming. “Just let me grab a coat and put my machine on." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Seven

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Riding in his old Ford as we went up to the commune, for some reason left me a little disappointed. Not that I'd expected a magical carpet or something, but his clapped out brown car just made it so ordinary. Not that I minded that Magnus drove there, it saved a hell of a walk after the evening I'd already had. He didn't even mind that I had the window open, even on such a chilly night, as I was always warmer than most people. We didn't speak, because neither of us really knew what to say to each other. The only sound was the soft music of the radio turned down low enough so we could talk it we wanted to, but we didn't. Neither of us moved to turn it up in case the other did want to say something. I think, he was as surprised by my desire to see the commune as I was. If I got the point of the commune, it was a place for mixed Court Elves to live with their respective partners. With all those magically inclined people about, why had Magnus come to me for help? In magical respects, I was pretty damn sure that an elf outranked me. When we got there, I was surprised by the rows of neat little semi-detached bungalows. Each with its own yard, all hand built. No estate agents, just a plot of land on which they'd built a home with their own two hands. Simple, easy living. If there was anything to credit elves with it was that they were no strangers to architecture or the manual labour, to create the simple but elegant. Magnus pulled the car to a stop in front of a slightly larger home at the end of the street. He sat, staring over the steering wheel at the lights glowing from the other side of the window. He was nervous. "What's wrong?” I asked. He turned his eyes to me—relieved, I think—that finally one of us was talking or that he'd not been the one who spoke. "I'm not really sure I was wise to bring you here. My step-father doesn't approve of humans being permitted to use magic,” he said, finally turning off the engine. I looked at him straight on. "Then why did you bring me?" He shrugged giving me a warm pleasant smile. "Because you asked." I looked at the small porch. The light had come on above the door and a shadow had crossed the window at our approach. Someone was waiting on the other side of the door. I got out of the car. Magnus pulled himself out and looked over the top of the car. "Are you sure?” he said. He seemed like he was perfectly prepared for me to say no and drive me home, without so much as a look around. I wasn't chicken. "I won't tell him I do magic if you don't." He gave a slight chuckle. “He'll know." I let Magnus lead the way up to the front door. If I had led, it would have seemed a little presumptuous. It's not like I needed to be invited in, but it was polite enough to wait to be. I could also tell from his hesitation, that this was no longer Magnus's home. He knocked and the door opened. The face that greeted us did not seem friendly. It was the face you expected to see on an elf—blank, a nothingness that

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came from a complete control of emotion. He regarded us with stern eyes almost azure in colour. His dark black hair was tied neatly back, but even away from his face, it made the pallor of his complexion almost ethereal. "Aziel,” said Magnus with a nod of his head. "Magnus,” he said, not even a smile appearing on his face to greet his stepson. “It is a little late for visiting and you have a guest." His eyes turned to me with an unnerving amount of scrutiny. I kept my face blank, because there was one thing I'd learnt, never smile at a pure blood elf. Smiling made them think you were stupid. It's the insincerity of it. His eyes started at my feet and rose up very slowly, while he was trying to sum me up. He gave me a look of puzzlement, it told me I'd given him exactly as much as I'd intended, nothing. "Come in and we'll talk." He moved aside to allow us past the threshold. Magnus walked in without a word but I thanked him as I passed. Aziel grabbed my arm quite firmly. Magnus turned, unsure whether to intervene or if something was about to happen. "I didn't get your name,” he said. "I didn't give it. I'm Cassandra Farbanks. Please let go of my arm." I stayed calm. His fingers uncoiled and pulled away from the flesh they'd been so firmly fixed into. He closed the door. "My apologies,” he said, with a graceful bow. “One can never be too careful about who one lets into their home. I do not believe you are dangerous." "Oh,” I said, a little surprised. "You do not look dangerous,” he confirmed. "Something doesn't have to look dangerous to be it. Belladonna is quite a beautiful plant but it can still kill you." "True. Magnus...” He came closer at the command, his body a little rigid. “Make our guest a drink. We will take it in the lounge." Magnus nodded, then moved in the direction of the kitchen, leaving me to be escorted into the living room by a still hugely suspicious elf. He sat down in a high-backed chair by the burning wood of the fireplace. I took a seat on the edge of a battered looking couch. I was not about to relax. "So, Miss Farbanks. How do you know Magnus? Do you work at his theatre?" I shook my head. I had no idea what Magnus did. A lot of elves were fortunate to have lived long enough to build up little troves. I guess the more modern ones did normal things, like hold a nine-to-five. "My acquaintance with him is slightly more recent,” I said, honestly enough. It was the truth but evasive; you can't lie to elves but you can not really answer them.

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"And what is it you do then?” He kept up his interrogation. "This and that.” I avoided giving him a direct answer again, not that I was ashamed of what I did, but I was taking into account what Magnus had said. He nodded, as if he was coming up with his own little list of jobs I'd be suited for in his head. Ruling out ones that probably wouldn't have brought me into contact with his stepson. He settled on something in his own mind and left it there. I tapped my fingers on the back of my knee—where the hell had Magnus got to? I didn't like being left alone with this guy very much. I had no fondness for elves. "Sorry to keep you waiting but you've moved things around in the kitchen again,” said Magnus, coming in carrying a tray with glasses on it. "It was your sister's doing. She has a passion for Feng Shui,” said Aziel. “Apparently there was a huge negative force because our plates were in the wrong cupboard." I wanted to laugh but his face was still deathly serious. He hadn't meant it as a joke; he was just stating a fact. Most elves didn't get cynicism or sarcasm at all. Hell, most of the time I was surprised when they got jokes. I turned my head, what makes wanting to laugh even harder to resist, is if everyone else is being so stony silent. Magnus handed me a glass, touching my hand. I looked up into his eyes. There was laughter in them and I knew he was as bad as I was—he was trying hard to keep it inside too. We gave each other a little strength. I managed to sit up, take a deep breath, then turn back toward Aziel who took a glass from his stepson. "So...” He took a delicate sip, waiting as Magnus took a seat next to me. “What brings you to my door?" Magnus seemed hesitant to speak up. I was beginning to see that Aziel had been a tough figure in this household. Elves tolerated little nonsense or being spoken back to by those they considered their younger. So it was up to me to speak. I didn't fear upsetting him or that he wouldn't like me. In the end, I was going to get paid to do this job and if there was a snowflake's chance in hell, I wasn't going to let anyone stop me from doing it to the best of my ability. "He's worried about his sister. She's missing, isn't she?" I don't know who was more surprised, the man next to me or the one across from me. I used a tone both of them were not used to, when addressing Aziel. He looked harshly at me but I didn't waver, so he turned to Magnus. "I do not appreciate you talking to an outsider about a family matter.” He turned back to me. “And you, Miss Farbanks, must understand something. She is not missing, she has wandered off for a while. We elves do it all the time." "As I understand it.” I said, taking the same air he used to me—with a very matter of fact voice. “Neither of your children are full elf." He was silent as he looked at me for a long time, not saying anything. So I continued along on my train of thought. "From meeting Magnus alone, I gather he's certainly more like a human than an elf, and the simple fact

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that you claim your daughter is into Feng Shui, proves to me that she probably is too. Humans don't often go wandering off. They think the people who love them will worry. That's why they tend to stick to patterns and routines. If she broke her routine, then Magnus has all the right in the world to be worried." "You make it sound like I do not care about her,” he said, sounding angry but still with that complete blankness of face. "No, but the fact you are not concerned is a little alarming. You live with her, do you not notice she always does things a certain way in a certain order?" He shook his head. I turned to Magnus. "I think I get why you came to me, none of the elves here believed any different. They all think she'll just come back. They don't understand that outside of their little world is another that is far more dangerous than they realise." "I resent your implication that I'm not intelligent,” snapped Aziel. I looked at Aziel directly in the eyes, keeping his stern gaze locked with mine. "I didn't say you were not intelligent. I merely meant perhaps naïve. No matter how old you are. How long you have been outside the citadel. You still think like an elf living in the safety of his own little palace." Aziel took a quiet sip of his drink. Magnus was holding his glass shakily, probably not quite sure whether he should grab me firmly by the arm and run for the door or not. I stood up, placed the glass down loudly as I wanted both of their attentions. "I want to see her room,” I demanded. Aziel didn't move as Magnus motioned me out into the hall, leading me down through a line of corridors to a back room. It was decorated in a way that was distinctly feminine. Pastels and plushies were on the walls. The bed was neatly made. She hadn't been home at all since she'd vanished, which meant she either had some place else to stay or she was being held so that she couldn't go home. There was a third option, but I didn't like to think about it. Try to always think optimistic, that was my motto. Don't go wishing the worst on people, even by accident. I looked around at the photos of her, with Magnus and a woman that had to be their shared mother. She looked a lot like their mother. I wondered if that meant Magnus looked like his father. "It's occurred to me that I've not asked your sister's name yet." "Bethany,” he said. “It's Bethany Silvias." "Is Silvias your step-father's name?” I asked. He nodded and added, “Reynolds was my mother's maiden name." I nodded gently. There was something sensitive there that I didn't want to poke at. My last name was Farbanks, but I had no idea whether it was my mother's or my father's name, he having died when I was three. I'd never really known him and my mother although one to talk, didn't talk about things like names.

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I moved into the room and could feel her energy. Everything that people held, they left part of themselves behind on. Forensics found the physical, the DNA, the fingerprints. I could find the spiritual, the energy of that touch. "She spends a lot of time in here,” I said, feeling the power of her on everything. "How do you know that?” Magnus asked. "I can feel it." He moved around to the side of me and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I've never met anyone who could talk to Aziel like that,” he said, sounding impressed. “Let alone not get a sound tongue-lashing back. You are a very strong person." "Am I?" I didn't really have the notion of strength, there were things that frightened me and things that didn't. I quickly decided when it came to people—whether they frightened me or not. Whether they irritated me or not, was a close second decision most of the time. "You must be stronger than me,” he said, looking down at his feet. “I've wanted to talk to him like that for years, but have never been able to. I want to be able to find my sister and you've never met her but you can feel her, just like that." I lay a supportive hand on his shoulder and he seemed to accept that. "But as you told me at my flat, you aren't magically inclined. Is your sister?” I asked. "I think so. She has always had a talent." "It's probably why I can feel her so strongly. My power is attracted to hers.” And in truth it was, there was something about its residue, its signature that spoke to me metaphysically. "What do you mean by attracted?" "It's metaphysics,” I started trying to explain. “Like normal physics but supernatural. Virginia explained it to me once. Power is like our own little energy that is unique to us. Good ones feel other good ones embracing them, and feel bad ones but repel them." "Like negative and positive ends of a magnet?” he asked. "Exactly,” I said, smiling at him. I liked it when people got the concept so quickly. I ran my hand over her furniture, stopping at her desk. There was something missing from it, something that had left a larger imprint, something she handled a lot. I looked down at a wire for a phone charger. "She has a mobile phone?” I asked. Not sure why I was surprised. "Yes. She's not as technologically phobic as my stepfather."

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It was something she carried with her at all times. If she'd gone out, she would have taken it with her. "Do you have a number for it?” We could call it. If it rang and she answered, we would know Aziel was right. If it rang and no one picked up—well, it might mean that Magnus was right. I don't know why he'd not thought to do that himself. "I might, in the diary in my car. Will you be alright to wait in here?" I nodded. I waited for him to go before walking back into the living room. Aziel sat still staring at the flames flickering in the dark of the hearth. He didn't turn to look at me but he knew I was there. "What was the last thing she said to you?” I asked him, trying to keep my tone slightly more polite than I'd been before. "She was going under the bridge to the other side of the commune, to see an aging widow. They have tea together and play backgammon. She did not come home.” He paused slightly and then asked. “You are a witch?" "No,” I said flatly. Although, to practically anyone else, I would probably have said yes and had done with the whole conversation. He moved his head in a long graceful movement; there was sadness in his eyes if not in his face. "You do magic, do you not?” he asked. "I do,” I said, raising my finger to make a point that had been made to me more than a few times before. “But technically, I'm not classed as a witch." "You are a human?" I found the question a little impertinent, but he wasn't the first person to ask me that. I had been asked it once before and my answer had sent silence through the entire room. "Of course I am.” My answer had that tone about it, that said I was offended to have even been asked. "Then you are a witch." He said it with such conviction, that I was sick of it and wasn't going to argue the point any further. Magnus came in. Reaching over my shoulder, he handed me a piece of paper with a number on it. "This is it, I think." He didn't look sure but it was a perfectly good place to start. If I called it and it was a wrong number, it didn't mean anything other than a moment's inconvenience for the person on the other end of the line. "Perfect. Is there a way into the garden? The signal in here isn't going to be good." Magnus showed me through the kitchen where there was a back door. He unlocked it, letting me outside and I dialled the number. Magnus hovered in the doorway. It rang, repeatedly. No one answered it. Not good. I pulled it away from my ear but I could feel something, hear something close by on the wind and thought, that's even worse.

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"Magnus,” I called into the house. “Does your sister have a novelty ring tone?" "Yes,” he said, stepping outside to join me, “ Phantom of the Opera, I think." I pressed my middle finger and index finger together. I felt the power in me and tapped the receiver, thinking, louder, make it louder, so I could hear it clearer. If I could hear it, I could find a direction. "Magnus, follow me!" I headed for the back fence. I couldn't be bothered with the gate. I threw my power behind me and jumped it, following the sound through the ground behind. There was a line in the grass where this path had been walked often, beaten into the grass by the constant footprints. I knew Magnus was somewhere behind me as I kept going. I slid down a bank, seeing what looked like an underpass. Sitting in the gloom there was something, shaking, glowing and the sound of ‘Music of the Night’ echoing between the graffiti covered walls. Magnus stopped at the top as I reached down to pick it up. I held it up reading the little green screen, unknown incoming call, flashed up. I clicked the call off my phone and the other stopped, stating a missed call on the screen. I held it up to Magnus. "It's hers,” he said with dismay. "I'm sorry,” I repeated. He lowered his head taking a deep breath, obviously unsure what he should do now. It was confirmed, something truly had happened to his sister. I pocketed both phones and closed my eyes letting my power bounce along the walls. There was other energy here, powerful energy. It made a shiver run up my arms and goose bumps erupt. "Magnus,” I shouted to gain his attention. “Run back to the house. I need dust." "Dust?” he asked, looking at me like I had asked for the oddest of things. "I don't know if your stepfather keeps sand, so dust from a vacuum bag or brick dust, ash, anything." He headed back. I moved around in the dirt under the bridge, something had happened here. The negative energy residing between the walls was trapped, nipping at my skin, vicious and dark. Negative energy tended to have that effect on me. Magnus came back carrying a velveteen bag, not what I'd expect to come from a vacuum cleaner. I guess Aziel did keep sand in the house. It did have quite a few practical uses. "Stop there,” I said, not wanting him to come closer. His heightened emotions could disturb it. “Throw it down to me." He halted halfway down the bank and tossed the bag over to me. It was full of fine gold sand, the kind you find inside an hourglass. Perfect. I slid my fingers into it taking a handful. "I call upon the Goddess of memory, Mnemosyne,” I chanted. “Remember from the echoes and show me in the sand." I threw the handful of sand into the air, and it fell upon the bodies of three people. Two looked like men

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struggling to keep a grip on the figure of a smaller woman. She'd fought not to go, which is probably how she'd lost her phone, but there was something else toward the back. Another hand that didn't belong to any of the three figures I was standing by. I threw more sand but nothing stuck, all I had was a hand. What kind of person, could leave barely any memory of themselves, on anything? I swatted my arm through the frozen sand and it fell to the ground. The imprint had begun to weaken, the minute it had come into contact with something stronger that itself. Namely me and my little power. "What was that?” he asked. I turned to Magnus who was now at the entranceway; his eyes were wide from trying to understand what was going on. "There was a struggle, with three people, one I couldn't get a clear picture of as the magic here is thin. Tomorrow, I will put your sister into the spell and I'll locate her.” Even to me that sounded more like a promise than I'd meant it to be. "You will?” he double-checked. "I will." I reached out my hand to him for a handshake. He took it and pulled me into his arms, tight, hugging me for all it was worth. I pushed him back a little too hard, he stumbled almost going over. "I'm sorry,” I said, embarrassed, “you were just too close.” I was nowhere used to strangers hugging me, I barely liked it when friends did it. It felt like some unspoken agreement to love them and not disappoint them. "Sorry, next time I'll ask first,” he said, letting me see the slight blush beginning to creep into his face. I smiled at him as I walked passed. "Next time?" We continued back to the house talking a little about my price. It wasn't like I had a set list of fees, I never knew exactly what kind of job I was going to be doing. I usually accepted the best offer and tacked on expenses. It wasn't foolproof but I got paid. Aziel was waiting to show us out. I think I had far over stayed a welcome that had been frosty to begin with. I'd shattered his peace of mind tonight. Now he knew his daughter was in trouble, and there was precious little he could do about it. Elvin magic was stronger on hot spots, centres of mystical energy, and the commune was almost a complete dead zone. Magnus waited outside as I handed the bag of sand back to Aziel, who clutched it harshly. "So you are a witch!” he said, as if all his suspicions had been confirmed. Usually I would just let him have it, but I shook my head. "No,” I argued. "And what makes you believe you are not?” he asked. I smiled at him for the first time, a deep confident smile, the smile that unnerves very serious people

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rather quickly. "Witches are trained, I was born this way.” And with that, we left. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eight The one hand stayed with me in my dreams. Who did it belong to? It was the only trace left of that person's involvement in what could only be described as a kidnapping. What was going on? Three vampires and a human/elf hybrid were missing. I had no proof that the three vampires had been kidnapped or that they had anything to do with the missing girl. But for some strange reason, I had a feeling it all came back to that hand. The sun rose while I was sleeping and I woke up on the other side. The side where that world should no longer matter but it did. It stayed in my thoughts and refused to leave. Instead of concentrating in class on Freud's Oedipus theory, I found myself doodling a little map of the local area trying to locate hotspots. I was going to need a little boost to cast a citywide location spell, let alone to do it for four separate people who, for all I knew, could be in four separate places. I needed to remember to bring aspirin, because I was going to have a hell of a headache afterward. The corner of my map became the beginning of a shopping list, until the ringing of the bell meant that class was over. I made a beeline for the campus library, although good for all the books you needed for your classes, it was usually deserted. Deserted was good, especially when the one thing you were dying for was to be left alone. I found a study desk at the far back, hidden by at least two bookshelves, and settled in to work out my plan of attack. A four-person spell meant four times the powders and the smells. Big spells smelt. It was an unfortunate fact of life. If you're going to do things the witch way, with a big showy part so the customer thinks they are getting their monies worth, there's going to be a hell of a stink. Mixing your herbs & spices to make magic, instead of southern fried chicken like the colonel, meant there would be funny whiffs a plenty and no sleeping animals to conveniently blame it on. There were an awful lot of hotspots in the alternate Worcester. It tended to be the reason why it had attracted so many preternatural groups. Elves, especially, tended to build their enclosed miniature communities on them. Luckily for us, there were two huge ones either side of the city so both courts settled there. Happy they could be as far as possible from each other while still being in the same city. They weren't the entire court by any means. The citadels held maybe forty elves each, with a regent and a local leader who reported to a main leader in the country's capital. They in turn had to report to their rulers who lived on a nice little island somewhere, a place where all elves had originally come from. All nice and safe from the world around them, where they could spend their days listening to the reports from various settlements and lounging about. I really didn't know what it was elves did all day except live in an elfie type way. Other hotspots were similarly in use. The College of Magic was located on top of one. The same one I was sitting on now, except on this side it wasn't prominent, so it didn't have the same relevance. I'd only been in the Magic College once, following along behind Nancy who'd had something she just had to do. Unfortunately, that one thing had been casting an upside down spell on her ex teacher's classroom.

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Nancy had a flare for trouble, but to be fair it had been one of her lesser pranks. I closed my eyes while rubbing my temples, trying to think where the hotspots were. There was one in Nunnery Wood but I wasn't sure if Virginia would appreciate a spell like this one being done in her backyard. Most woodlands held a mystical spot of energy. The smaller the wood, the more concentrated the energy. It made for a bigger and better hot spot. All things, like trees and plants, take some of that mystical energy up; less foliage meant more power. Perry Wood was a huge spot by all estimates, smaller than Nunnery and far enough away from most settlements not to be a bother. The last thing you want is some idle human popping up right when you're in the middle of some mumbo jumbo, with vampires and a half elf on the side lines. They'd call the cops. They'd send Rourke and I'd have the She-Hulk breathing down my neck. It's not like she could stop me. Witches are supposed to carry a licence, to prove they've been through the college and are well trained. In my case, the college didn't require me to enter and the council of magic claimed I didn't need the licence to practise. Technically, I wasn't a witch. What I technically was, was something of great speculation, especially for me. I had about as much knowledge as anyone else. I'd never been taught to channel and use magic, I could do it naturally. In some respects, it made my jobs a little bit harder but in others there was freedom in it. I worked the way Virginia had taught me. She was still teaching me but there was a degree to which ingenuity and initiative could be used to bypass some of the more boring bits, moving on right to the good stuff. It was Virginia who'd taught me this spell, originally on a small scale to find my keys. But I'd changed and enlarged it so I could use it to find much larger missing objects, then people. In the original, I'd been taught to use a mental image to locate the object. To find a person, I'd used an object connected to them to find a mental image of their location. Most of the ingredients of the spell were either for show or to really get me into the ‘rushing images barging into my brain’ mood. Hence, the aspirin. I ripped the top page off my notebook and started a basic construct. The simpler, the better. It all had to centre on the objects and me. I was the vessel, they were the focus and as hokey as it always sounded that was the truth. The main circle had to be for my protection as much as the protection of those outside it. Once it was sealed and things set in motion, nothing could get in or out until the spell ended. It kept me safe from interference and if anything dangerous happened in the circle, like I lost control—although it had only happened once before. So everyone outside—the people that were going to pay me—would be okay. Next inside should be four other smaller circles. If I used the points of the compass, I could draw on the strength of it to use in aid of locating the people that were missing. I'd need something bright and something with a unique smell for each of them, so when I saw the locations I knew which was for which person. Chinese and Indian spices were good because they were strong and I couldn't mistake them for anything else. I needed that when I was lost in it. I wouldn't technically be in my body for the most part. I doodled a little me in the middle of the circle with a ghostly version floating over my head. Not entirely professional but who was going to see it. My throat got scratchy. That kind of itch at the back of your throat that you can't seem to get rid of by swallowing. It's the kind you need a drink to wash away. I left my note pad on the table and headed out the back way to a lone vending machine, riffling in my pocket for change. I had enough, but everything I ranked as a top choice was empty. I suppose the bad thing about a lone machine was that it didn't get refilled very often. I settled for a Diet Sprite and moved back to the desk. I stopped in the doorway when I saw her. Incarra had pulled a seat across to the desk, flipped it around so the back was against the table and sat leaning over it. She had her nose in my things on the table. Today, she was in a black skirt with a red-layer, black and red striped tights ran down into those same black all stars, and a long sleeved tee sporting the slogan ‘It starts with F, ends with OFF and has UCK

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in the middle.’ We had camaraderie when it came to funny shirts. I sat down at the table slowly. Incarra was up to her eyeballs in my spell sketches. I tapped the can down on the table and she looked up at me, placing the notepad down. "You went out last night!” she said, sounding a bit cross. "Is that a question or a statement?” I asked. "Statement.” She gave me her best serious girl eyes. "Yeah,” I said trying not to let it escalate. “But I told you I wasn't going straight home." "The rink closed at what, eight? I called you way later and all I got was your machine." I wasn't sure if it was a lie or not. I hadn't remembered to check my machine this morning, but I'm pretty sure I would have seen the blinking light. I leant back against the chair. I had to be very careful. One wrong thing and I could end up in a hell of a lot of trouble or with a very angry friend. "You didn't leave a message,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. "You know I don't like answer machines but that's beside the point. No changing the subject. You were out." "Yes,” I admitted it. “I was out." "Where?” she asked. "Just out,” I said with a shrug, not sure what she was expecting me to say. She adjusted her glasses and gave me her ‘it's time to talk seriously’ face. I tried my best not to morph into the rebellious, ‘you're not my mother’ one. "There's something odd going on with you, you've been ‘just out,'” she said, making hyphens with her fingers, “a lot recently and I never see you. Not at night anyway. It's like you've got a secret." I did my best to look completely innocent and put my hand over my heart. "Who me?" One look at her face told me she wasn't going to buy innocent. Not from me. Damned if we didn't know each other too well. "M'mm, and what is this stuff?” she said, picking up my notepad only to drop it down again. “I saw you sitting here but if I'd approached while you were still sitting down, you'd have bundled it all up into your bag tout sweet." "They're just Doodles Inc." "Uh huh, and this list is weird,” she continued. "It's just a little shopping."

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All my lies had a well rehearsed ring to them, I knew Incarra just wouldn't buy. She was like a human polygraph, it was extremely hard to lie to her but I could do it. Sad fact is—I was practised at it. The tension between us was thick and heavy like smog. Neither of us was speaking now. It was a staring contest, a battle of body language. Could she read the tightness of my spine? The one way to tell if I was lying was when my back straightened. Had she noticed? I'd always had better posture then her, even with the chair turned the other way around and her legs wrapped over. She balanced her arms on top of it, resting her chin so she could bore those china blue eyes into me until I cracked. If there had been a desk lamp, I'm pretty sure she'd have it turned on and would have been shining it into my face. It was the vibrations that made us both turn our heads. My mobile, although on silent, was doing a merry little glowing jig as it danced on the table towards me. Incarra's eyes turned back to me. "You going to answer that?” she said, her voice a little deeper than normal. I didn't really want to, not now. It was like giving her ground, but it would also seem too weird to her if I didn't take an incoming call. I grumbled, snatched it up, and clicked it on. "Hello." Damn it, bad timing was my forte, it was Magnus Reynolds. Even with my mobile, I managed to get calls from both worlds, no matter which one I was in. I still didn't understand how it worked. "Mr. Reynolds, now's not—” I stopped as he interrupted me and just let him talk for a minute. I looked at Incarra whose ears were perked. She'd never heard me talk to anyone on my mobile but Anton. "All right, Magnus, if you like but as I was saying, now isn't the best time." Incarra was nodding along, getting every word. "I'll be free to talk after six or so. Yes, on my mobile will be fine. Goodbye." I hung up quickly and passive aggressively threw my phone into my bag. What the hell was I gonna say if she asked about it? And by her eyes, she bloody well was gonna. It's at times like this I wish it were possible to tell your friends to piss off, without any ill effects. Of course it wasn't, so I was bound to get into the most uncomfortable conversation of my life. "Who was that?” she asked. Okay, perhaps it was time for the truth. At least an abridged version of it while I was thinking of a more convincing lie. "Magnus Reynolds,” I said calmly. But that was giving no more than she could have pieced together from my end of the conversation. "Is he the mysterious voice from your answer machine?" "No. That's someone else. Someone I don't want to talk about." She shrugged, giving me the fine roll of her eyes. I got one ‘get out of question free’ card and I'd just used it. I didn't want to talk about Aram, he was a lot harder to explain then Magnus would be.

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"How old is Magnus?” She enquired, with almost an airy snobbery reserved for parents. "He's fifty two, Mother." She stared with wide eyes, as if hoping her ears had gone dyspraxic and muddled the two numbers. "Fifty-two?” she said, repeating it again under her breath. I nodded. Technically, he was only about twenty-five given the half elf thing, but it was an abridged version of the truth after all. "Is it about money?” she said, looking at me worried. “Seriously, you can move out of the flat and move in with me. I can clear it with my mum but you don't have to.” She stopped and started to look a tiny bit embarrassed. "To what?” I encouraged her to finish her sentence. "Sell yourself to fifty-two year old men,” she blurted out in a big long rush. I burst out laughing. Oh my God! She was on a delirious trip again about why I was out so often. "I am taking away yours and Anton's speaking privileges. I am not—” I lowered my voice. “I am not a call girl." Incarra had the good sense to at least look a little embarrassed. “Then what is this mysterious job of yours?” she asked. I smiled using it as a guard to give me a minute to think, refine, and shape my answer. With Magnus being fifty-two, she'd automatically gone to escort, when there could be a lot simpler explanations for everything. "I, Granny sit,” I exclaimed. "What?” Her eyes gaped. "Some elderly people can't get around much. I do shopping, help around the house, play endless games of backgammon and gin rummy." "Oh!” She said, beginning to buy it. "Those ingredients,” I said tapping the shopping list, “are for an old Chinese lady with a dodgy hip. That's how I earn money, doing odds and sods." Incarra looked at me hard, another question burning inside her brain. “Why are you out so late?” she asked, like she couldn't quite puzzle it out. "You ever tried telling an eighty-four year old it's time for bed.” Okay, I thought, please don't tell me I've over done it with the last bit. Incarra leaned back in her chair looking a little less intense. “Why didn't you just tell me?” Phew! I

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thought. I hardly believed I was getting away with it. Just stay calm, I told myself, stay calm. "I didn't know what you'd say. I might suddenly be so uncool, I would be shunned by every human being on earth." "And these,” she asked, pointing at the drawings. "Doodles. I was bored in class; he was going on about Oedipus and Freud skipping merrily hand in hand again. I was bored out of my tiny little skull. I was so ready to move onto psychopaths, so that they and Freud would be occupying my mind at the same time and I could see what happened." "Carnage candy,” she said her voice taking on a slightly singsong lilt. "As a card carrying psychopath you'd know." She smiled, a big wide grin, the yeah we're friends again grin. I relaxed my shoulders, slinking back into the chair. I'd have wiped my forehead and let out a deep breath if I didn't think it would have given the game away. I'd fended her off for the moment, but it was only a matter of time before she would have her suspicions aroused again. Damn amorous little suspicions of hers. Its not that I liked lying to my friend but in my life there had come a time where I'd had to draw that invisible line. The line between ‘acceptable on a need to know basis’ lying and a ‘true betrayal of a friend's trust’ lying. I was pretty sure I hadn't crossed the line yet. Just to be sure, though, the border was brightly lit with warning signs—things I swore I would never do to a friend, things I'd never do period. If I bypassed all of those then I would be crossing over the line and officially become a horrible person. "Can we pretend you're a call girl just to see how worked up Anton gets?” she pleaded with me. "You're cruel!" "He, he,” she chuckled and then sighed happily. “Yeah." Incarra talked and I took on a half listening role. As long as the conversation was no longer about me, it didn't really matter, but from the little bits and pieces I did hear, it sounded like she had an obsessive crush on her art class's new nude model. Apparently, his name was Brian and he was totally hot. I didn't get the appeal of dating someone you'd already seen completely naked, where was the mystery? "Anyway, about Anton,” she said, with a grin that I can only describe as ebil . Which is like evil, only not as dangerous and slightly fluffy. “Don't tell him you're not okay." It was wonderful how an entire female topic could circulate and come right back around to the first topic we'd started off at. "I'm not though,” I said, just to confirm to her that she had to stop thinking it. "But he doesn't know that,” she said, pressing a finger to her lips in a little ‘shush, don't tell’ gesture. "Yes he does. I told him yesterday at lunch." "Well he called me last night and he's still completely convinced you are, so, please."

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She gave me puppy dog eyes, knowing damn well that I couldn't say no to them. If she quivered her bottom lip, I'd be putty. "All right I won't spoil your fun. But you've only got to the weekend to tell him the truth,” I said, not wanting this to go on. "It's Thursday,” she said, looking at her watch. “So I've got one and a bit days to totally mess with his mind. This is gonna be fun." She got up from her seat. "Where you going?” I asked. "Well, I'm not gonna waste any time. I'm on an Anton hunt. Call you later?” She turned and started to go. "On my mobile,” I reminded her. "On your mobile!” she repeated. “Ja ne!" She waved back over her shoulder to me, as she ran off on her way to find Anton and totally mess with the inside of his skull. He would pretty much believe anything she said. Incarra had one of those very convincing temperaments she could put on at will. He'd throw a hissy over being lied to over the weekend, but he'd forgive us both by Monday. Why I needed to be forgiven escaped me. Usually, it was in time for her to find something else with which to wind him up. I let out a deep sigh and bundled everything back into my bag, grabbing my phone. I slung it over my shoulder and hit recall. The last number in my incoming memory dialled itself. "Hello, Magnus Reynolds.” His voice was strong and confident. He had to be at work. No one answers their home phone with their name like that. "Magnus, Cassandra." "I was going to call you back like you asked, you know." I gave a little snort of laughter. "It wasn't that,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I said that because I wasn't free to talk, but I can now." "Why weren't you free to?” he asked. I was beginning to believe that people asked far too many questions when they didn't need to. "I was with a friend. They don't know what I do at night for people like you and I'd like to keep it that way. They couldn't handle it." He sighed heavily into the phone. "Unfortunately, prejudice still survives in this modern age,” he said, sounding tired.

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"In bucket loads,” I sympathized. He gave a little sound of agreement and waited. I suppose I'd called him so it was up to me to keep talking and get to the point. "I'll be ready for the spell by seven-thirty tonight. I want you to meet me in Perry Wood and bring Bethany's mobile phone." I hadn't felt right keeping it after I'd found it, even to use in her location. So I'd given it to Magnus in the car as he drove me home. Magnus was a real gentleman. He'd opened my car door and waited until I was on my balcony, to make sure I'd got inside okay, before honking the horn twice and driving off. I liked him for that. "I'll bring it but why Perry Wood?" I sighed. People sure did like to ask a bunch of questions. "If I have to explain it to you, we'll be here forever and I don't have a lot of time or credit." "Okay but do me one favour." "Depends on what it is.” I'd never agree to do something before knowing what it was. Anyone who does, knows that once you've agreed, you could be asked to do anything and you can't get out of it without being a bitch, since you'd already agreed to do it. "Tell me who the other client is so I won't be too jumpy when someone else shows up." I smiled. “Vampires,” I said plainly. "Vampires?” he repeated it to me to make sure he'd heard right. I gave him a minute to adjust to it. Vampires were not as well liked as some groups, but there were others that were hated a hell of a lot more. After a minute, I felt he'd had enough time and spoke up when I still got silence. "Are we going to have a problem?” I asked. "No. It's just odd. I mean, missing vampires. Surely they don't keep track of each other just like the elves don't." "Apparently they do. Very complex social structure. They have live-in donors who reported them missing but as Rourke doesn't really give a rat's ass, they came to me for help—the same as you." "I didn't mean to sound so shocked,” he said apologetically. "No one ever does. I'll see you later. Don't be late." "I never keep a lady waiting." And he hung up. He'd called me a ‘lady.’ Magnus was getting classier by the moment.

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I headed out of college, up Broad Street through the market, to the sound of the fruit seller trying to talk up bananas. I rounded the corner, leading me to go across Foregate at the lights and down to Asda. My cupboard had been borderline anorexic for days; it was time to fill them and to get in the shopping for my spell as well. If I had them put on separate receipts, I could bill it to both the vampires and Magnus. None of the preternatural community had ever thought twice about my charges. I gave them a number, they paid it. It was only with other humans that I had to haggle and boy, did some of them like to haggle. I now had a policy of pre-payment when it came to humans, no dough, no show, simple. Humans only ever wanted basic stuff so I knew exactly what I would need and how much it would cost in advance. After the second time I'd been stiffed for labour plus expenses, I'd decided never again; something humans loved more than haggling was skipping out on the bill all together. Asda was a fairly new development on this side. There'd been one in the other version for a while and some of the night staff were a little ghoulish but mostly human as far as I could tell. The worst they could do to you was run your cabbage a little heavy handed over the infra-red, leaving you with a lot of coleslaw you didn't come in for. It wasn't so bad middle of the day; most people were still at work so it was mainly grandmothers and students who were in at this hour. Both didn't like to rush and didn't want to be here when it was packed. I was not a sardine, therefore at no point during my day should I be forced to live like one. I headed straight for the cooking section where they have all the spices. I had some left over's, but you'd be surprised how much one spell used. I didn't cook. It's why I charged spices as expenses; I didn't keep a lot of it on hand. I microwaved occasionally, which reminded me I had to check to see if they were still doing ‘buy one, get one free’ on meals for one. I had one of those small trolleys instead of a basket. I could never get everything into a basket. I tended to shop sporadically. I'd eat everything down to my last tin of beans and then go mental buying in again. I found cruising the aisles quite peaceful, looking at the bargains, but I got this little tingle in the bottom of my spine and knew something was coming. Incarra zoomed around the corner, threw something into my trolley, and ran off whispering that I hadn't seen her. I saw Anton then, he was bobbing at the end of the isle looking around. He spotted me, so I looked down scanning my trolley quickly. The additions were a giant pack of Durex, body lotion, and a home pregnancy test. I had five minutes before he reached me. I could ditch one item without him noticing so I grabbed the pregnancy test and stuffed it behind tins of new potatoes. He ran his hand along the metal of the trolley until I turned and smiled at him. "Anton.” I said, trying to be pleased to see him. "What you doing?” he asked. I gave him raised eyebrows, did I really have to answer that? He was distracted so, yes I did. "I'm shopping, Anton, this being a supermarket and all." "No need to be snippy, Cass." His eyes dropped to my trolley looking at what Incarra had dropped in. He swallowed slowly. I knew she'd done it on purpose, but now I knew exactly why. She'd found him after I'd seen her and had been winding him up. I was starting to think about killing her, horribly. She needed to find a better way to entertain herself. "So, plans tonight?” he said with a salacious grin.

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"Yeah, actually,” I said. I wasn't trying to play along but I also wasn't trying to spoil Incarra's fun. I should have stopped it right then. 'Really? Anything fun?” he said drawing out the ‘u’ in fun so it sounded longer than it should have been. He moved to stand at the end of the trolley to make sure I couldn't leave. I guess my shopping was halted for now. I leaned my weight against the handle. "I'm meeting some people tonight." "People, as in male people or female people?” he asked. I tried not to shake my head. I was disappointed that he was so gullible; it should have been enough for me to just say ‘no’ to something and have that be enough. Be the truth. "I suppose most of them would be male, I don't quite know yet,” I said truthfully. I honestly didn't know if others were coming or I could just expect Aram as his brother's emissary to appear again. "Is it a party?” he cooed. I didn't like how his tone was dropping the conversation further and further below the bar. Incarra wasn't the only one who could wind him up and right now, he deserved it. "Mmm,” I said, starting to smile, “sort of, I guess. It's a group activity." "Can I come?” he asked. Anton loved a good party. I shook my head. I'd be in another reality so there was definitely no way he could join me. "It's by invitation only,” I said smugly. "How did you get invited?" Incarra was going to thank me for this later; I knew she had to be nearby somewhere; she had to be listening to this. "I'm being paid to be there,” I said, trying not to let out a little laugh. His face lit up, my mind was switching to Anton mode, and I was putting together in my head everything he'd just heard. "It's an orgy,” he shouted pointing at me accusingly. Maybe winding him up more hadn't been a good idea. I looked at an old woman across from me and tried to pretend he was crazy. She tutted, shook her head, and walked away. "I am not going to an orgy. I can't eat in front of other people, let alone anything else. You have an over active imagination." "So it's just one tonight, a date?"

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I looked at my watch, time was winding on. With it being autumn and the sun was setting earlier and earlier, I needed to get through the check out by then. Otherwise, I would lose everything I'd just sorted out. "Mind your own business, Anton. I've got a lot to do." I pushed the trolley away from him while heading down the aisle. I still had half the shopping to do. He turned and yelled after me. "How much are you?” he shouted. "You're allowance wouldn't be big enough,” I yelled back. I turned the corner and found where she was hiding; she looked up at me with wild eyes. I was glad at least someone was having a good time. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Nine I could hear the phone ringing from the other side of the door. The sun was just going down and I was going to drop all my shopping if I didn't get in soon. If I dropped it in my apartment then it would be fine. If I dropped it in the corridor, I'd have to wait until tomorrow morning to see if it was still there. I burst through the door in a flood of plastic bags, smacked the door shut with my foot, and leapt for the phone. "Hello?" "Ah, Andra,” came Aram's voice, soft and smooth. “So, you are home?" "I just got in, Aram.” I would recognise that voice anywhere. "You know my voice, pet, that is encouraging,” he said, with a smug sort of joy. Trust him to think something like that was an important sign. "You're also the only one who calls me Andra, but I think I already mentioned that.” I said, hoping it would deflate his ego somewhat. "Perhaps.” He paused as if taking a breath. “I am coming over." Now there was something, he'd never called first, he usually just showed up. It gave me the chance to say no. "As I said I've just got in. I've got shopping, can't you wait?" "Then I shall help. I will be by momentarily,” he barrelled on ignoring me. Then the dial tone sounded. I put the phone back on the hook, managed to pull the bags into some kind of order when there was a knock on the balcony doors. Vampires move fast. How he got up onto my balcony when I was on the top floor, and why he couldn't use the front door were mysteries to me. I

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walked through my bedroom and opened one door. He looked at me and I remembered I'd retracted his invitation. "If you come in, are you going to behave yourself? That means no hands,” I warned him. He gave me a huge grin—flashing glittering fangs at me under the gathering moonlight. "My word as a gentleman.” He gave a little bow at the waist. I looked him over cautiously before I asked my second question. "Have you had blood tonight?” I was not in the mood for a repeat performance. "I am flattered you cannot tell, but I have." I sighed. I had no reason to deny him. "Come in, Aram." He strolled passed me into the bedroom a looking a little smug. He'd been let back in the same week he'd been evicted. It was something else that hadn't happened before, but Aram was my link in this job, so I needed him. I could put up with his crap as long as he kept his hands off. "So you have been to market?” he said, eying the contents of my Asda bags. I thought it was quaint that Aram still referred to grocery shopping as ‘going to market.’ I suppose the last time he had to consume food that's exactly what it was. "As you're here, you might as well help put things away. You can start by carrying them to the kitchen counter because I'm all out of energy." He lifted the four bags effortlessly. There was nothing like super human strength to make you feel pathetic for struggling to carry them a few blocks. He dumped them on the counter things spilling out. These items, he scrutinized very carefully. "What, pray tell, is my Andra planning?” he said, humour filling his voice. I looked at the items that had fallen out—bandages, lotion and the giant pack of Durex. I was going to kill Incarra. I'd been so bothered about getting to the checkout before the sun went down that I'd not taken them out. I'd put them on the conveyer belt with everything else and paid for them. Bandages I'd been buying anyway, sometimes spell backlash gave me some nasty cuts and bruises. "Have you been thinking of me?” he said with a smile. "No,” I grabbed the condoms and threw them into the bedroom, shutting the door. “They must have fallen into my trolley when I was reaching for something else." His smile remained. A huge grin on his face as we unpacked the rest of my fairly normal shopping. But every time he passed me something, our hands brushed and I felt the blood fill my face with embarrassment. I wasn't embarrassed because he'd seen them or that I'd bought them—but the minute he'd mentioned it, I'd thought about it. About having sex with Aram. A whole mental image and everything, that was embarrassing. I was thankful he couldn't read my mind.

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I stuffed the empty bags into the garbage while Aram relaxed against the counter behind me; I knew he was watching me so I prayed for a distraction. An indignant meow drew my eyes to the corner where the bathroom was as Nancy appeared. I'm starving; I want real tuna, none of that organic crap. She came into the kitchen, saw Aram, and her whole demeanour changed. She forgot about the tuna as I put it out on a plate for her. She coiled around Aram's legs purring loudly. "Hello, Nancy,” he greeted her cat countenance. His tone was light but it didn't have the same gentle intimate tone he used for me, it made it hard to register what he thought about Nancy. Nancy of course was Aram's number one fan. When she was still human, one word from him and she'd have found a vein and had her knickers off. I was surprised that he'd never taken her up on the offer, and believe me, she'd offered. Aram. She cooed his name, forgetting that although vampires had power of a kind, it was not technically ‘magic’ like I was not technically a ‘witch’ so he couldn't hear her thoughts as I could. I stared at her and concentrated. He can't hear you, you know! You'll just have to tell him what I'm thinking about then. She turned her glassy eyes to me and her thoughts pounded into my head. "Oh God!” I yelled, and tried to find something to throw at her. “Keep that to yourself, filthy animal." Aram picked Nancy up from the floor. She rubbed the line of her back against his neck and chin. I rolled my eyes and went about arranging my spices to make up what I was going to need for the spell. She settled against his chest so he could stroke her head. If Aram thought I'd ever get jealous over him fussing with a cat, then he was going to be waiting a long time. He was, however, wasting my time. "Is there something you wanted?” I asked him. He put Nancy down on the work surface. She strutted along it, like she still had a body he'd want to look at. She sat next to the dish of tuna but didn't eat, not wanting to humble herself like that in front of him. He pushed his hair back out of his face. "Jareth wished to know a price before tonight,” he said, his eyes intent on me. I shrugged a little. "What's your offer?" "May I use your phone?” he asked, being very polite. I shrugged, I didn't see why he couldn't. I pointed it out and let him by me. He dialled and talked while I fiddled with getting things into bags. He was watching me, as he always watched me with such a child like interest in his eyes. He placed his hand over the receiver and brought it to his chest. "Is three hundred alright?"

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I swallowed like I got the offer of three hundred pounds every day of my life. "Plus my expenses,” I added and felt slightly cheeky. He brought the phone back up, talked for a minute, and pressed the receiver to his chest again. "He accepts. He wants to know where and when?" I turned my head to look at the clock on the microwave; it was showing ten to six. "Perry Wood, in an hour-forty." Aram relayed my time into the phone and then nodded, as he was answered. "He says, he will meet us there with the others." "Jareth wants to come?” I asked, surprised at the turn of events. He nodded as he hung up the phone. Okay, I was more than a little surprised. I didn't expect him to be participating. I thought he would have just delegated to Aram, surely he had better things to do. I made sure all my spices were bagged and ready. It felt somewhat rude not offering Aram something to drink, but since his drink of choice was rather important to my remaining in tip top condition, it was prudent that I didn't ever offer. Not that I'd ever really thought I would. What I didn't get, was why he was hanging around? It would be ages yet. Most of the time was for walking up to the woods, it was the other side of town give or take a little. I got this suspicious little feeling that he was guarding me, unwilling to let me out of his sight. It was a little unnerving. What was he afraid of? He caught me looking at him with probing eyes and smiled. "It appears we have time,” he said, grinning and sliding his hands down over his hips. “How should we amuse ourselves?" "I'm going to get changed.” I pointed to the couch. “Take a seat." I had to quickly add in anywhere but my bedroom and he gracefully took a seat in the armchair. Men really seemed to favour that chair. I guess it was the most throne-like. I went into my bedroom shutting the door. I walked a few paces before I turned back around and locked it. It was better to be safe than sorry. I pulled my top over my head, looking at myself in the mirror. I had a scar just under my ribcage on my left side. I'd gone down into the sewers following a routine missing pet spell. Over here, goblins live in the sewer system, they find cat and dog a very tasty dish. But if a stupid human wanders underground into a pack of them, they think banquet. I managed to escape with only that one wound, where one had tried to scoop out my stomach. It was a constant reminder that within worlds are other worlds, and that I shouldn't go underground without a flashlight. Goblins can smell magic but they can't smell a torch. I might have been able to sneak up on them if I hadn't been following a magical, glowing ball. Now when people come to me about missing pets, first thing I check for is nearby manhole covers. Goblins only come above ground for food and they didn't like to stray too far from the dank sewers. I changed into my skinny jeans and a pair of black knee high boots that I could fit the leg into. I didn't

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want to catch them on anything or to have to wash mud out of them. The basement of this building during the day had a communal laundrette. You had to buy your own soap and pay for the machines, but the money went to the up keep of the building, keeping things like the elevator and washers up to code. I put on a tight fit black tee with short sleeves, I didn't need sleeves in the way while I was mixing and black was good at hiding blood. If I got any metaphysical backlash, the last thing I wanted the vampires to know was that I was hurt and bleeding. If they smelled it, it was all fine and good but in politeness, they wouldn't mention it. Visual confirmation was a whole different ballgame. I plaited my hair so that it was out of the way as well and checked the heel on my boots with a quick tap. They'd seen a lot of wear and I didn't want them to give tonight. Falling over because of your shoes was not a cool thing to do, especially in front of people. My foot connected with the packet I'd thrown into my room earlier. I went into my bathroom and put them in the medicine cabinet. It should keep them out of the way and anyone from getting the wrong idea. I pulled out a smaller bag from the bottom drawer of my dresser, and put a bottle of aspirin in it. The bandages, spices, oil, and matches would also fit in there nicely. I'd also make sure to take my thermos. It contained a mixture of salt and Vodoun powder to use to create my circle to protect me. I couldn't use chalk on the grass—it was the same mix, just in stick form. I didn't make the chalk myself, a warlock I knew did it for me. I didn't need that kind of contraption lying around my flat waiting for someone to find. His price was reasonable, even if it wasn't one hundred percent morally centred. I'd met him through Nancy. I'd met a lot of people through Nancy and it burned her a little, that they liked and trusted me far more than her. She was one to run instead of fight, she didn't pay her share, and she was two faced. That was on a good day. No wonder she'd ended up a cat. I opened the door, tilting my head to look at Aram who was slightly tense about having Nancy curled up in the centre of his lap purring away in that deep cat like way. Her tuna was still sitting on the side, untouched. "You two seem quite cosy." He stood up, not even trying to gently move Nancy from him. She skidded onto the floor, then walked with her tail high in the air to sit unhappily in a heap under the coffee table. "Andra,” he gasped, “you look so serious." I laughed, ; as far as compliments went, I'd heard some good ones but he could do better. "I'm not going to play around. I'm going to work and if you're coming, you can carry." He nodded gracefully, catching the thermos awkwardly as I threw it at him. I stuffed the packets of spice into my bag. I was almost ready to go. I made sure I had my keys and took my mobile out of my side bag. Hitting the answer button on my machine was the last thing I did, before I left the house side by side with the vampire. The only thing that separates the two woods is a small group of houses that belong to the dwarven people. Much like the munchkins from The Wizard of Oz , they lived separately from normal people isolated by the woods on either side of them. Virginia lived to the north in Nunnery Wood and once, when I'd referred to her as the Good Witch of the North out loud, I'd been smacked around the head. In an effort not to repeat that pain I'd not called her it again, strangely though, it hadn't stopped me thinking of other things to call her.

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The dwarves of Perry Nun, as they called their settlement, were wonderful crafts-men and women. They made fine weapons, jewellery, and recently, I heard they'd moved into electronics to keep with the times. The one thing you could be sure of though, if it was dwarfen made it would be of the finest quality. They didn't do magic, but they respected those who did with great reverence; they always welcomed them into their town and into the woods next to them. I had no fear that they would interfere once they knew there was magic going on. I'd phoned their chief earlier to inform them I would be occupying the woods west of them during the evening. He thanked me for my consideration, telling me that at seven, they closed their gates for the night so everyone would be safe inside. So I felt free to go all out. Aram walked slightly behind me as we went along side the railway lines at the edge of the woods. He kept looking into the darkness of them, as if unsure whether anything lurked within. An old brown car caught my eye. It was parked at the end of civilization, by the tracks that signalled the cut off, where the woodland stretched for endless miles of green. I ran my hand along the side of it, reaching the bonnet, I found it was still warm. I smiled. "Good, he's not been here long,” I said, meaning for it to be to myself. "And who would that be, pet?” he asked curiously. I smiled, flicking my hand palm up. I called upon the light and it came to me, in a burning ball of sunshine sitting right in my hand. I lowered my arm to my side and it hovered in the air, a light to guide our way in through the trees. I took a step into the darkness and Aram followed. "Magnus?” I called out. My voice echoed through the silence of the night so clear, with those ears of his, he was bound to hear me. "Cassandra?” he shouted back from somewhere in the darkness. "Where are you?” I shouted, trying to decide where his voice had come from. "Just ahead, there is a large clearing. I'm there." I walked forward and I saw where he stood, huddled in the darkness from the slight chill of this time of year. It would grow steadily colder as winter got closer and closer. Aram came out of the woods behind me, his night vision was so astounding that he could study every aspect of the other man in the woods with us. "And who is he, Andra?” He sounded a little jealous. "He is a man whose situation, like yours, warrants my attention and skill." I reached out and encircled the ball with my hand. I blew my breath into it, hot and fresh, sending my will along with it and threw it into the air of the clearing above us. It grew bigger, shining so brightly the whole area was illuminated. "How did you get here?” Magnus asked, giving me all his attention and completely ignoring Aram, who was standing right behind my right shoulder. Aram glared at him unflatteringly. "We walked,” I said.

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"You needed but to ask and I would have given you a lift,” he said, very politely. I looked back at Aram who was clutching the flask tight, with what I believed had to be another twang of jealousy. "I will remember that,” I said, not sure about how long after this we would be associating. I turned to him flicking my hair so that it swept back through the air, careful not to hit either of them as they were both standing extremely close to me. "I will need that before you crush it to pieces." Aram relinquished the thermos, realising he was being very obvious and of course, he could not have that. He turned to Magnus offering his hand. "I am Aram of Trelawny, second of Worcester." Magnus raised his hand taking hold of Aram's. He looked surprised by the cold of it, obviously forgetting I'd mentioned the other parties involved were vampires and shook it. "Magnus Reynolds." Aram increased his grip. I could see it in the tension of his knuckles. He was letting Magnus feel a little bit of his strength, to assert some sort of macho dominance. Magnus took it lightly. "How is it that you come to know my, Andra?” said Aram. Magnus flinched at his use of a possessive pronoun. He gave a sideways glance to me, questioning what my relationship with Aram, a vampire, really was. I sighed, turning away from the pair of them, if they wanted to compare size, let them. I wasn't going to get involved. "I am a customer, same as you,” he said, but his voice was uncertain. I didn't have to turn around to know that Aram was smiling once again, quite wildly. "I have known her for far longer than that. Haven't I, pet?" "And everyday you've been just as irritating. Do you mind if we get on? When is Jareth arriving?” I asked, getting impatient. "I would assume momentarily, my sweet." "Then stay out of the way. Magnus, come over here." Magnus pulled his hand harshly out of Aram's grip, obviously unappreciative of his goading, and moved toward me. I was settling down on the grass on my knees. He stood by my side. "Are you and he...” He chose his words carefully. “...dating?" I smiled, keeping the laughter on the other side of my teeth. I had no doubt that even though he was keeping back to the distance I'd asked him to, he was listening to every word very intently.

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"Not in this lifetime,” I laughed. I laughed, to let Aram know I found the idea seriously funny. Magnus seemed strangely relieved but I let it pass. "Did you bring her phone?” I asked. I was going to keep my mind on the task at hand, even if no one else was going to. He reached into his pocket, bringing it out wrapped in a tissue. I'd told him to be careful not to contaminate it too much with his own energy by touching it too much. It seemed he'd taken my warning very seriously. "Put it here on the grass before me and then stand back as well." He did as he was told. I turned the top of the flask and poured the mix into my hand. Using my fist clenched tight, I piped it out through my fingers so that I made a perfect circle around the phone. The strong smell of the salt filled my nose and stayed on my hands. A twig snapped, the sound came from ahead of me as people melted out of the darkness. I knew in an instant the sound had been deliberate, so as not to surprise me when I raised my head to find them there. Jareth stood, cloak draped around his body so he looked like one large form of black, his pale head was all that stood out in the darkness. Now and again, the breeze blew lifting the bottom corner up just enough to see his shined boots underneath. Dusk was with him. Her natural blonde hair was dyed an interesting shade of pink in tresses pinched at the side by clips and not dangling much around her ears. There was a collar around her neck, pink leather with studs, and I found myself thinking, it was such an apt accessory for a bitch. Her vest top had a smiling cartoon skull with a daisy tucked behind where its ear should have been, and fishnet gloves ran up her arms to her biceps. She ran a hand across the smooth pale flesh of her stomach where it showed between her top and the electric pink tartan of her skirt, jingling the silver chains that wrapped around the top as a belt. Fishnet continued from under the skirt down to plain black boots. She smiled at Aram, flashing her lashes over her still so very human blue eyes, giving him every come-hither look she could muster. Like Nancy, she wanted him bad. I took a moment to examine the third person in their group. A male, tall, dressed in baggy combats and a tight fitted shirt. He had blonde hair in loose spikes and a silver hoop pierced his lip. There was nothing to him. Everything about him screamed normal in every way—he was human, flesh and blood living; there was no power to him. I looked toward the base of his neck, following the lines of his blood vessels. There were scars there, where he'd been bitten repeatedly in that same spot. He had to be a vampire's meal on a regular basis; I was guessing he was the live-in of one of our three missing vampires. "Did you bring what I asked?" Jareth looked at me. I wasn't sure whether he was fighting not to be amused or not to be pissed off, but there was a definite twitch to his face. "We are not going to begin with the niceties?” he asked. "Why? I know who you are. I know who she is. Who he is...” I nodded in the direction of the human buffet. “I can mostly guess and really don't care. Is there anything left to cover?" "Who is he?” Jareth's hand raised up brushing back his cloak to reveal that he was dressed pretty much as he had been the other night, except his waist was adorned by a rich purple instead of red. His index finger flexed over my shoulder. I did not need to turn around, he would not have been pointing to his own

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brother. "He is here on business and is none of yours. Let us get on, we're burning moonlight." He changed the direction of his hand, signalling to Dusk to move forward. She traipsed towards me, revealing that she was carrying a bag. I looked up only to watch the bag crash down in front of me. She'd dropped it—not thinking about the items inside—rather than hand it to me. One fang showed over her bottom lip where she was trying not to growl. She didn't like it that I was talking to Jareth how I liked. But she was too worried about upsetting him herself if she took action against me. I waited for her to step back before taking my eyes off her, that close to me, it wasn't a wise thing to do. I pushed back the edges of the sack, peeling it away from the two objects. One, a metal jewellery box, had a large ruby in the centre of its lid and next to it was a well worn, ivory handled smoking pipe, carved with the image of the death of the very animal that had made it. It was very lucky that when Dusk had dropped the bag, the heavier box hadn't dropped on it and broken it. I ran my hand over both. One was definitely the property of a female and the other a male. "There are only two items here,” I said, feeling silly for stating the obvious. "Tarquin has the third, he would not allow anyone else to touch what is his master's." This time I gave more attention to the young human male that had accompanied them. He was rigid, cross looking, and wouldn't move towards me. "Are you going to give it to me or not?" "I thought you didn't care who I was,” he said, glaring at me. Oh. I'd offended him. He was the meal of a very strong vampire, but he still felt somehow that he deserved to be treated as more than that, especially by someone who was technically of the same species. "And I still don't. If you don't want your missing party to be included here, then I won't include him. However I've already agreed a price with Jareth, and I will not discount because you are going to be pissy with me." He still didn't move, so I slowly raised up to my feet—he wasn't much taller than me. I wiped my hands on my jeans to get rid of the rest of the salt and his eyes followed the movements. Jareth had said ‘master,’ indicating that Tarquin's vampire was a man. I had no problem with that kind of relationship, but the fact he let him feed off him like he had no meaning but to be food for him—that I had a problem with. If it had been a woman, I wouldn't have had any less of a problem with it. He may have liked women as well, from the way his eyes looked at my hips but it still didn't change the fact, I felt he needed help. When he still didn't move forward, I took the steps towards him and held out my hand, he looked at it as if expecting something to appear there. "You can either give it to me or you can bugger off and find him on your own, make a choice. Shit or get off the pot." I heard a tiny snicker behind me. Aram was trying not to laugh, but there was stony silence from Magnus. I'd not used language remotely as bad to his stepfather or, in fact at all in front of him. He was going to be a little surprised, but I was not going to be dictated to by the walking blood bank, that was

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trying to take an attitude with me. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out an elegantly engraved silver fob watch. It was beautiful, on a silvery chain that he used to lower it into my hand, so he didn't have to touch me. I closed my fingers around it carefully and I felt the energy of his master and strangely, love. There was a great deal of love between them, a bond that could be much easier to follow than his energy alone. "Be careful with it,” he demanded. I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply. I turned and went back to where I had begun in order to begin. Each item got its own little circle as planned, the spices puddle by a little oil in front of each ready to be burned. I started on the main circle. "All right, everyone who's not a happy about a little magical girl—move back. Stay out of the circle, and do not cross or break it while the spell is in progress." I checked the eyes of everyone who was staying; they all gave me some sign that they understood what they were not to do. It was for their safety as much as it was for mine. With the large circle complete, I was safe inside its protection. I took the matches from my bag, then took it and the sack while moving to the edge of the circle. "Magnus, hold these for me." He moved close to the edge, not enough so that his feet where anywhere near the powder, causing him to lean to take them. "Be careful." He said it in a whisper to try to keep it from the ears of the vampires around us, and I nodded. It was nice of him to be so concerned. He'd just earned himself a brownie point. I went back to the middle, the circles at the points of North, East, South and West around me. I knelt. I felt for the power inside me, compelled it to the surface and raised the shield around me. Magnus stepped hurriedly back, as if the air close to him had suddenly become too hot to breath, and it had. My power was warm, always so warm, but it never burnt me. I bit my thumb hard, holding the skin tight until blood welled up to the surface, and let a drop fall in each pool of spiced oil. Blood was a part of magic sometimes and it helped to spill a little. I sucked my thumb until the bleeding stopped, lit a match and began lighting the piles. The flames burned pink, blue, red and green. Smoke of the same colours rose up into the air, filling it with the rich smell of spice and the tiny metallic after taste of the blood. "I call to thee, Aradia, Goddess of the lost, through the woods of murk, through the darkest night. I call thee. Lead me along the path, to find whom I have lost. Aradia, guide me." The wind whipped through the circle, through the very flesh of me. The smoke mixed and filled me, drawing in with my breath through my mouth as the last of my words tumbled out. "Let me see beyond sight." The wood around me vanished. I could hear nothing; there was nobody around me anymore. I had no sense of them there at all. I knew I was still there in the woods, they were still there watching me but they

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were also so far away from me now, that they were as distant as a memory. The world in front of my eyes was different now. I felt as if the wind had wrapped my body up in itself and was carrying me over everything, to see where they had gone. I focused to direct me to one at a time, but as I did something felt wrong—terribly wrong. The colours and scents that should have guided me were mixing, they were blurring together so that everything was an ugly grey with a foul odour. It was the smell you get when things that shouldn't be mixed together, have been. And there is nothing pleasant to the smell that wrinkles your nose and scratches the back of the throat. I was nowhere. I couldn't see any of them but I was still going somewhere. What did it mean for them all to become one like this? It wasn't that I was using the spell for more than one person at a time, I'd used it before for many people, much more than four, but never had it failed me like this. There was so much darkness approaching me, it became blacker and blacker. It was the darkness of death, the darkness inside the dead when the light that is them, is no longer there. The vampires that should have been awake were not. "Bethany." I called her name with my voice and with my mind. I did not know how Magnus would react to hearing the name of his sister on my lips, but I had to call to her. She was the only one living, the power in her was liked by mine, and it was strong. I felt it through the darkness, glimmering, two bright pools and I knew they were her eyes. If I could pull our powers closer, then I could look out through them as if they were mine. I could see what was around her, who was around her, so she could be found. This was sight beyond sight. I felt a need, a demanding need to hurry and I threw everything I had into it. I felt my own body move to its feet to stand as I crashed into her with everything I had. My head dropped and I was looking down at my feet. They were not my feet—they were too small, in different shoes set against the dark grey and hard ground. I felt the body around me and it wasn't mine, it was smaller by comparison, lighter and elegant. This was Bethany. This was her. I forced the head to rise. I had to look around to find out what I was there for. Where was she? What had happened to her? I caught a glimpse of a table on the way up. I couldn't see much of it, but there was a body lying on it. I saw the arm of a man, pointing down towards the ground. His shirt was ruffled and secured by a delicate cufflink of mother of pearl and silver. The skin on his hand was waxy, pale and greying. The man on the table was a corpse. A corpse that shouldn't have been. I pulled the neck upright closing my eyes as pain shot through it. It had been lying down and to one side for a long time. It brought with it the ache of the wrists, which were raw, suspended above where her head now was. I forced the pain back with the promise of rescue and opened her eyes. The room began to come into focus, as did a loud angry shout. I could not hear the words, I couldn't tell if it were male or female but it had been so close that it had rung through her skull. The room never came into full focus. I managed to see the hand, the same hand from under the bridge, come harshly forward. The line of the index finger and thumb were pressing against her face, the palm suffocating the nose. The sharp whip-like pain that followed ran through me—not just through Bethany but also through me as well. The boiling rage of another power, cruel and dark, threw me like a lead weight back into my own body. A lead weight that was white hot. I could hear screaming now and I knew it was me. I didn't fight to hold onto Bethany, I couldn't. This power was ruthless, it had meant to kill me, to burn me out like the possessing force that I was. I could see the woods again and the sky as I did what I could to save myself, protect myself from the wound I felt. When it all stopped, I had not quite beaten it, but I had tried so hard that it had stopped attacking. It had felt my power resist and had been silenced by it. I felt relief fill me as I felt the world begin to go dark. I felt gravity pull for me and as my eyes closed, I knew I was heading for the ground but I never felt it come. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Ten I woke up under a wooden beam supported ceiling. The light around me was dim candlelight, enough so that the darkness ebbed around me. I was lying on a couch, it felt old, almost skeletal in places; I could feel it through the cloth. I was wrapped in something, something that felt soft against my bare arms. I moved my hand through it to find the edge of it, black and smooth. I realised what it was, it was Jareth's cloak. It swarmed around my body, swallowing it, so that almost none of me showed; it was wrapped around me tightly as if to keep me warm and safe. I tried to sit up but the movement made every part of my brain ache. I let it pull back down and lay there wrapped up in the dark. After another minute I tried calling out, it took me a few tries but I found my voice even though it didn't quite sound like mine. "Hello?" I coughed. I'd inhaled a lot of smoke and it was probably still in my lungs. I heard the sounds of footsteps and Magnus came running, slower footsteps coming behind him. "I thought I heard something,” he said, his ears giving a slight twitch. “You're awake." "And feeling like crap, which means I've got to be alive.” I tried to sit up again and failed. “Where am I?” I said, feeling rather defeated. "You're in the upstairs parlour, child,” came Virginia's elderly voice. I knew it so well. Magnus moved to sit behind me, using his body to help support my upper body. I rested my head against him and it didn't hurt quite so much. I sat looking at Virginia; she was dressed in a long nightdress, wrapped with a woolly looking floral robe loosely draped around her. She moved along slowly in her blue slippers, eating a tomato like an apple so the juice stained her bottom lip. "How long have I been out?” I asked. "About three hours,” she replied, behind a slurp. "Three hours?” I asked, finding it hard to think. “That makes it midnight, give or take." Virginia nodded; she understood why I was worried about time. I had to be out of sight of these people before daybreak. I would probably be slow moving for another hour yet, and then there was getting home. I had the feeling I was going to miss my morning lecture due to over sleeping. "How did I get here?” I asked. Magnus's hand stroked my hair. I rolled my eyes back to look at him, he smiled down at me softly. "I carried you,” he said nobly. "How very—"I paused to smile. “—Superman of you." I pulled my arms free of the cloak and checked for scratches but there weren't any. Whatever had tried to hurt me, hadn't tried to do it by anything other than burning my insides out with power. "What happened to you? When you screamed, no one knew what to do,” asked Magnus. Concern and

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fear were heavy in his voice. "I was going to ask how you knew to bring me here." "It was clear you were out,” said Magnus. “So the dark haired vampire wrapped you up and lifted you. Aram suggested we bring you here, so we came." I looked around the room; it was just Magnus and Virginia in the room. If Aram were still here, he would have come into the room too—that is if he'd left it. Maybe I was over estimating my importance to him. "Where are the vampires?” I said, visibly checking around. "Sitting on the porch. I wasn't about to invite them in,” grumbled Virginia. Virginia looked tired. She'd probably settled in for a nice quiet evening and I'd dropped all of this right in her lap. I rolled my head toward her. "I'm sorry to be such a pain, Virginia.” I apologised. "As long as you're alive and well. But I think perhaps an explanation would be helpful." I smiled at her. She was ever the responsible adult in my life, my teacher and my friend. "I'll give one, if you can help me downstairs. I'd rather not have to go over it twice." Magnus helped me to stand. He supported my weight against his body as my feet felt like they weren't there. Pins and needles ran up my legs, making each step feel numb and unreal. I was glad he was there. "You know,” I said, looking up at his handsome face, “you didn't ask my permission." He looked at me strangely, like hitting the ground had damaged my head somehow. I was picking a pretty odd time to try and be funny. "I mean you are practically hugging me." He smiled at me. "I still need to ask in a situation like this?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. "I'll let you off then." We reached the top of the stairs. I had to take them really slowly, as every time I put my foot down it sent a shaking feeling all the way up into my hip. Whatever had hit me, hit me good. "I could carry you down,” he said, motioning to sweep me back off my feet. "Appreciate it but I've got to get my legs working again, or I'm not going to be any good to anyone." He nodded like he understood, it was a strength thing. I had to prove that I wasn't as scared as I was; that I could beat whatever had happened to me, that I was still in control here. It took nearly ten minutes

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but I got down the stairs to the front door. Virginia opened it and I looked out at the vampires who were sitting waiting. Jareth was leaning against the railing. Dusk and the human food cart, Tarquin, were sitting on the steps leading up to the porch. Aram was the only one who sat in the solitary chair. "Cassandra, you are awake?” said Jareth, greeting me warmly. He moved away from the railing and slightly towards me. When Aram and Dusk both watched his movement with curiosity, he stopped dead. "Seems that way don't it.” I felt the material grasped tight in my hand, realising that I must have pulled it all the way down the stairs with me. Slightly crumpled, I held it out to Jareth. “Thanks for the loan." He took the cloak from me, draping it over his arm, and moved back with a curt nod. Magnus helped me out just a little further. "Where do you...?” he asked. He looked around for some place he could put me. I pointed towards Aram. “Over there. If Aram wouldn't mind letting me have the chair." "That I didn't offer immediately, shows that my manners have been impeded by my worry,” said Aram. He stood up, taking hold of my outstretched arm, and with Magnus's help, sat me down in the chair. I looked out at them. Virginia was standing in the safety of the doorway, knowing one step back and the vampires could not touch her. Dusk sat with her back to me. Tarquin, who was opposite, faced me but he kept his eyes down to the ground. Neither of them looked like they wanted to be there. I was surprised they were. Aram I had half expected, but not all of them. "You didn't all have to stay, you know,” I said, not even trying to hide my surprise. "I want to know what happened.” Jareth said. His voice was firm—he did want an explanation—but there was a hint at the back of it that this was not the only reason he had stayed behind. I was injured; surely I could push my luck. "Aram could have given you a full report." "I stayed because Aram stayed,” said Jareth sharply. "And we stayed because he stayed,” came Dusk's irritated voice. It was obvious to everyone that she had hated sitting out here for three hours, waiting for me to wake up. "You could have left,” I commented. If I sounded bitter, I guess it was because I was a little. I couldn't stand her. She was so eager to please them, that she'd stayed even though she didn't want to and then to have the nerve to gripe about it. In the end, she'd still had a choice—she'd chosen to stay. She grumbled a little more as I settled into the softness of the chair. "What happened to you, pet? You screamed like you were dying,” asked Aram, edging closer to me. At the time I thought I was dying, but I wasn't about to let them know that.

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"Something big and bad decided it didn't like me poking my nose in. I think it tried to kill me." Dusk laughed. “If it had been that big and bad, then you wouldn't be alive,” she sneered. Jareth moved to scold her, but I held my hand up to stop him and for the life of me, he actually stopped. "She's right in a way,” I said, hating to admit it. “But it stopped." "It stopped?” Jareth looked surprised. It wasn't often you saw a vampire show surprise. "Whatever, whoever was wielding that kind of power into me stopped. I fought against it and it stopped. I don't know why." Aram crossed his arms and leant back against the railing. "Could the simplest explanation be, that it didn't want you dead?” Aram suggested. "Probably,” I said, rolling my head to look at him. “I didn't see a lot, not really anything to get a location, but what I do know fills in a few blanks." Magnus moved a little closer to me, hoping what I was about to say was good news. "Bethany is alive. The people that took her also took Jareth's people, but they are not so living." "It is dark, pet,” said Aram, obviously hoping I was confused. “What do you mean they are not living?" "I mean they are supposed to be up and about but they weren't. They were just corpses, no life in them what so ever." Tarquin stood up so suddenly it made me jump a little. His face was angry, he moved towards me menacingly. Both Magnus and Aram moved to protect me, and both of them noticed each other had done the same thing. "She's lying,” he shouted. “My master rises earlier than others. He is powerful. He would not sleep now. She is a fraud." I lowered my eyes and thought back. into that room. There had been one of the vampires. I was positive it was one of their missing—his arm was all I'd seen but it had to be enough. "I saw only one,” I said slowly, trying to stay with the image. “A man, I think. Just his arm, but his cuffs—they were held by a cufflink; silver with mother of pearl inlay." Tarquin stopped moving as his eyes rounded with horror. "He was on a table; there was no movement in him. His skin was so deathly that he was either dead or had not taken blood for several nights. I tried to reach out to the vampires but in the end, all I could reach was Bethany. All the others were in darkness, complete darkness." Tarquin looked crest fallen, like he was going to cry. I put two and two together, the body I'd seen lying on the table had to be his master's.

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"I'm sorry,” I said, trying genuinely to provide a little comfort. "Why? You don't mean it!” Tarquin snapped. I looked at the sadness in his face. Yeah, I wasn't all torn up that one walking dead had stopped walking, but the pain he felt because of it—that was something I was sorry for causing. "Just because I don't approve of what you do doesn't mean I don't see who you are. It doesn't make your pain, your emotions any less real than my own. All I had was bad news and I'm sorry it's upset you. But it doesn't mean I'm about to wash my hands and walk away. If you think it does, then you don't know me." He looked very surprised behind his tears. He wiped them away and moved back down the steps, to stand in the grass at the bottom. He needed a few moments to collect himself. I wasn't going to begrudge him that. "What do you mean you're not done?” asked Magnus. "You are both paying me to find people.” I signalled to Jareth and Magnus. “They're not found yet, but finding them is of the utmost importance. I won't make any of you pay until they are back where they should be." "No!” barked Aram. I looked at Aram who eyed everyone in the group defiantly. His arms were crossed and his shoulders tight—he was getting serious, which was a rare and frightening thing. "This is my decision, brother,” Jareth reminded him. "They are dead and that is all there is to it. We are not going to send her chasing after them, risking her to this thing that nearly killed her, for people who are of no use,” he said calmly. "Excuse me,” I said, butting in. “'Her’ is sitting right here and has already said she'll go." "I am telling you no,” barked Aram, turning his eyes toward me. I gaped at Aram. Since when did he think he was the boss of me, and could tell me where and what I could do. If he thought I was going to let this go, then he was sorely mistaken. "Well I'm going after Bethany anyway. I don't see the harm in picking up what's left of your people along the way." "You are not going after anyone,” barked Aram again. "Like hell I'm not." I stood up, wobbled and Magnus was there to stop me from falling. Jareth watched me with careful eyes, trying to work out whether he should believe my words or my actions. "Even if you've forgotten, you are not the only client here."

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"If the half-breed knows what's good for him, he'll cancel and find someone else,” said Aram, his tone never softening. Magnus’ grip on me tightened. He didn't like the use of the term half-breed ; he'd told me so himself. So to spite Aram, he was going to stick with me. "It's up to her if she wants to finish the job or not,” said Magnus firmly. Aram turned his eyes solely to me; the forest inside them looked like it was on fire with his displeasure. "Do not test my patience, Andra,” he warned me. "That is enough. I think you and me, and you,” I said, pointing at Jareth, “need to have a conversation, in private." Jareth gave me the barest of nods. "Dusk, take Tarquin home,” he commanded. She stood up, glared at Jareth for a moment for being dismissed, before storming down the steps, grabbing Tarquin roughly by the elbow and dragging him off into the woods. I gave a look toward Virginia, who gave a brief ‘as you like’ smile before turning to Magnus, who was still standing behind me glaring at Aram. "How about a cup of tea?” she said softly. “Magnus, wasn't it?" Magnus didn't look like he was going to go, until Virginia started in about having a bad back, being old, and how she could use the help. Magnus followed her in if only to appease his moral centre. He couldn't let an old woman struggle. Of course, he didn't know this particular old woman was quite capable on her own and just as cunning. The front door shut and I started in on Aram immediately. "First, you do not use words like half-breed . He's a person just like any other. Do it again and I have some very choice names for you, coffin boy.” I moved closer to the railing to use it as support as I walked closer to him “Secondly, since the early evening I've got the feeling you're watching my ass a lot more than is needed in the, ‘because it looks nice, pet’ sense. What gives?" Aram looked distinctly uncomfortable with both my accusing eyes and his brother's bearing down on him. "I've been hearing rumours about more vanishings. I put together that only the very strongest of our people had gone, those that were not as impossible to get to like Jareth and myself. Tell me about this Bethany—is she strong in any way?” asked Aram. "Yeah, magically. Her brother claims she always had a talent for it." "So am I so unreasonable to think that because you are also strong, that someone might come and take you. That this power who tried to kill an interfere, stopped, when it tasted what you had to offer. Would I be such a fool as to let you walk right into its arms?" He reached out and his hand touched my face. I didn't know what to say, but I sure as hell didn't want him stroking me. I pulled back and did my best not to turn scarlet from embarrassment.

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"Brother,” he said, turning to Jareth. “I ask for so very little, do not send her back. Pay her and end it." Jareth considered both sides of the conversation very carefully. He looked between his brother and me several times before finally settling on my face. "Do you think you can do it?” Jareth asked. Aram moved to interject, but Jareth raised his hand before his brother's face and he was silent. "Yes.” I said, with a confidence I wasn't sure I really had. "Then I will let you try but on one proviso,” he said. "That being?” I raised an eyebrow sceptical that this was going to be something I'd like. "That Aram goes with you where ever he can?" Aram and I both looked surprised by Jareth's requirement. He turned his eyes toward his brother and there was something both gentle and playful in them, at the same time. "If you are so worried for her safety, you should keep an eye on her, or do you think you are not enough to protect her? I have many handsome young vampires that would be happy to guard such a body." I was going to object, but it was strange to watch Aram getting so wound up—even as vampires, I guess brothers still knew how to annoy one another. "I will be ample, brother,” he said crossly. "See that you are, as I would be most aggrieved if something did happen to someone you care so much about,” Jareth said, keeping the smile from his face but not from his voice. "It's all settled then.” I said, happy for it all to be over for the evening. “I'll see you tomorrow night then." "And how do you plan to get home without me?” Aram asked, turning to me and looking at how I was still leaning on the railing in order to stay upright. "I'll ask Magnus to drive me. I'd have let you come but after that last jab at him, I don't think he'd let you in his car even to guard me. I'll be fine." "I will indulge you one last time, but if I find you tomorrow in a worse state than tonight, I will hurt the boy,” he threatened. "You do and it will be the last thing you do." Jareth escorted him away before we got into another all out row. We could get along if we wanted to, but most of the time we fought like two cats in a bag. I moved back towards the front door letting myself in, my legs felt stronger now but I stuck to the wall, just in case I wanted support close at hand. I made it to the kitchen. Magnus was sitting hunched over the most delicate china cup, while Virginia rocked peacefully back and forth in her chair, an empty cup in her lap.

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"Look,” I said rubbing my temples. “I told him off about the whole name calling thing. There's no need to be so glum. Would it help if I told you he's an idiot?" Magnus looked at me and his face softened. I made it to a stool next to him all on my own and found my bag sitting on the table. "Oh good! I was wondering where it was?" "I'm sorry,” he said, sort of quietly. "What for?” I asked. "Not thinking about this putting you in danger. Just going along because I was angry at that self righteous...” He stopped dead, looking over his shoulder. He obviously didn't want to use swear words, in front of someone who was technically the right age and shape to be his mother. "It's okay. I don't like leaving things half done. I'm going to find them even if I do have to have Aram as a tag-along to do it." "He's going with you?” he asked. "Jareth kind of insisted." "Then I'm going to insist too. I am going with you as well." "Okay.” I said, without so much as a blink. "You're not going to fight me?" "Too much effort to bother. I'm still trying to remember how to walk here. Besides you're not that bad to have around. I mean, you can do heavy lifting and stuff. Speaking of which, is that offer of driving still open? I could use a lift home." He nodded and I started routing through my bag. My phone was flashing a little message of three missed calls, all from Incarra. I cursed under my breath and apologised quickly as Virginia opened one eye to give me a look. "Finish your tea. I've got to make a phone call,” I said to Magnus. I wobbled into the living room hoping that here would be far enough distance to make this call; I was also praying she was still up. It rang for a while before it was picked up. "Do you know how many times I've tried to call you?” she growled at me. Sometimes I hated caller ID. It didn't even give me a buffer, before she launched into a slightly pissed rant. "According to my phone memory, three,” I said, being as sarcastic as possible. "You're not funny." I sighed, rubbing my fingers over my temples again. “Yeah. I know. I'm sorry but something came up

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and I couldn't answer my phone." "What happened?" "I had a little down—still a bit shaken but feeling better.” It was the truth in a way and if it got me sympathy instead of anger, then it was worth it. "Oh, mate. You okay? What did you fall down?” It had worked, her voice went suddenly soft. "Just some stairs. Some of those old houses you know, loose floorboards and crash bam wallop and I'm out like a light." "Must have been awful." "You should have seen the poor old guy; he didn't know what to do and could have had a heart attack. It's alright now, everyone's all right now so I could call you back at last." "It's okay. You go home and get some rest, it wasn't important. I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?” she asked. "If I get to class. I don't know. If I haven't, I'll drop by before five and we'll chat then, okay. Got to go anyway, my ride home's here." "Okay, talk to you tomorrow." I hung up the phone letting out a deep breath and feeling bad for having to lie to her again. It was strange, but somehow being attacked by another power that really bloody hurt seemed more of an excuse than I fell down the stairs, but was certainly less believable. If I told her the truth, she'd have me tested for drugs in two minutes flat. I'd just have to keep making up the most inane boring lies I could think of. "Will you be all right here while I go fetch my car? It shouldn't take more than a half hour to get back to where I parked it." I looked at Magnus who'd stuck his head through the doorway. “You carried me and walked here. You must really have some strength under there somewhere." Magnus blushed a little too much so I reassured him I would be fine and he ran off to go get his car back. I wobbled a little less on my way back to the kitchen. Virginia was still in her chair but now she had both eyes open. "Are you sure about what you are about to do?” she asked. "Pretty sure but if I didn't have any doubts, I'd be a bit foolish." "You could be about to go up against something pretty strong and pretty dark. If you win, you might really piss something off. If you lose well..." "I understand the concern, thank you. But there is something you could do for me." Virginia moved forward in her seat.

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"I need a grounding charm." "What for?" "To keep me here over the weekend during the day." My mother had to have used one with a spell to keep me from shifting between realities for so long. I knew there had to be a way to keep me in this one, just for a little while, so I could have more time to spend on finding this thing. If I knew anything, it was that it was easier to move about during the day when all the big bad stuff was asleep. "I see. I think we could whip one up while young Magnus is out on his detour, but we must hurry. Let's get upstairs." Virginia seemed to find it amusing that she could beat me to her attic but in the state I was in—and just coming out of—a race did not seem like the best idea. When I made it into the attic, she was up to her elbows inside that old trunk again, the same one she'd pulled the Goddess cards out of. I thought back to the prediction they had brought me. Something changing or ending, to bring me to something that I couldn't back down against. It rang eerily through my mind. Maybe they'd been right and not just the old parlour trick that Nancy had said they were. "Ah, here we go." She came out holding a long silver chain, on the end dangled a locket carved with two silver doves. "This will do it. I need some of your hair and on the table over there should be a jar of dirt. I will need that too and the letter opener." She sat down in the circle and I moved over to the table, grabbing the things she'd asked for and bringing them back into the circle. I used the letter opener to slice through a lock of my hair and gave it to her. She packed the dirt into the open locket, laid the hair on top of it, and asked me for my hand. I trusted her so I gave it to her; she stabbed me in the finger making the blood drip onto the hair. "Ouch!” I pulled my finger back and into my mouth. “You could have warned me." "Stop your complaining. Do you want this to work or not?" I sucked until the blood stopped coming but the cut was still sore. She could have at least sliced the finger I'd already cut once tonight. I watched her power soak into the locket, then I closed my eyes and listened to the tone of her voice. I didn't understand quite what she was saying but it didn't sound bad. I opened them to the sound of the locket clicking shut and the feel of power washing away in a wave. "There we go.” She reached down to it with the edge of a handkerchief, wrapping it up tight. “It should work, but I don't think it will last more than a few days. I don't know what magic your mother used to use but it had to be far stronger than mine. Give it until tomorrow night to cool and then put it on when you're in this place. It should work like a tether, keeping you here, but only as long as you're wearing it. If it comes off, you'll be back to switching about." I took the wrapped up pendant, slipping it into the pocket of my jeans—it had to stay safe and out of sight. No one needed to know what it was or what it did. Virginia was one of a few who knew the truth

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and I wanted to keep it that way. My switching realities was a complication that nobody needed. I would have to find some excuse to tell my friends why I wasn't going to be home all weekend. But I was getting better and better at lying all the time. It was sad but true. The doorbell rang when Magnus came back. He was too polite to let himself back in. He watched me very carefully as I went down to the car, staying close in case I wobbled again but I was feeling much better than I had been. I'd always been one who was quick to recover. He held open the car door for me, making sure that I tucked my legs inside and that I put my seatbelt on before he shut the door. He was being extra cautious which was kind of sweet. I'd never really been one for old-fashioned manners, well not Aram's, but Magnus was different, for a start he had a pulse. We drove back in the revered silence we'd had, on the way to and from his stepfather's. Neither of us knew what to say, it was funny how we couldn't seem to talk to each other when alone in his car. He pulled up in front of my place, the engine died down as he killed the ignition and he sat with his fingers gripping the steering wheel tight. I'd never seen a man so nervous. "Well, thanks for everything you did for me tonight. I appreciate it." I turned my body to reach for the door handle clicking my seat belt off with my right hand. "I lied a little, you know." Those five words stopped me opening the door. I gave him my attention. He looked slightly sheepish. "Oh!" I tried to say it like I wasn't surprised. Normally I wouldn't have been, people lie, it's a fact of life. But I'd pegged Magnus as one of those people who couldn't lie, no matter how they tried. "I only carried you up the stairs. It was the vampire, Jareth, who carried you to the house but the old woman wouldn't let him in." I put aside the knowledge the big kiss leader, Jareth, had carried my unconscious body God knows how many miles on foot, and focused on the man in front of me. "That's not such a terrible lie,” I said, trying to comfort him. “I've heard worse." "I was trying to impress you, I guess.” He sounded a little embarrassed. "Why would you want to go and do a thing like that?” I asked. "Lie?" "Impress me?” I laughed a little. He didn't say anything, it was like he couldn't speak with my eyes on him. Maybe we were too close, stuck in the car like this. "Why don't you come upstairs for some coffee?” I offered.

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"Okay." I turned around, rolled my eyes up to the window and saw a hideous monster pressing itself against the window and peering inside. God help me, I screamed. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eleven "Jesus, Ben! Couldn't you have knocked or something? Your ugly mug scared the crap out of me,” I yelled as I got out of the car. Benjamin Hodgeson was a DS attached to PCU. I used to think he was an okay guy, even dated him a little. But I discovered he had a problem with preternatural people. It had had become clearer the more we'd got to know each other. He was a grade A jerk. "Didn't mean to interrupt?” he grumbled. Benjamin raised his eyes at Magnus. What he thought we'd been doing in the car wasn't his business, as long as he kept his mouth shut. I'd slammed the car door into him hard, bowling him over. It took me staring down at him to realise he wasn't some monster out to get me, just a bully and an idiot. Magnus got out as well and we stood on the pavement. "Of course you didn't. What do you want? You can't be out here for any other reason than looking for me, which means Rourke's got to be nearby." "Smart chick this one, gotta watch the ones with brains.” He jerked his thumb in my direction, but he was attempting to strike a fraternal chord in Magnus. "Where is she, Benjamin?” I asked, bringing his attention back to me. "Round the corner in her car,” he said. “She wants to talk to you but just you." I followed his line of sight to Magnus who was looking uncomfortable. "All right. All right. Magnus?" He raised his eyes to meet mine. "Rain check on that coffee, okay?" He nodded. I waited as he got back into his car, waved goodbye, and drove off. That's when Benjamin decided to get pushy. "Come on,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I've been waiting for hours for you out here." "All right, I said I was coming."

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I followed him down the block to the corner. DI Rourke was sitting in her car, nursing a cup of coffee and an extremely delicate if large ego. She did me the courtesy of getting out of the car at my approach. "Farbanks,” she said, giving me a curt nod. "Rourke,” I replied. The fact that we referred to each other by our last names, showed there was no love lost between us. "What do you want?” I asked. “It's late." Samantha Rourke seemed prettier than police-like. Her face was thin, with high cheekbones and an upturned nose, like she'd been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. But that's where it ended; from the neck down she was a She-Hulk—wide shoulders and muscle definition. She had probably delighted several times in imagining that she could snap me like a twig. Her hair was tied back sharply in a no-nonsense ponytail and her bee-stung lips were pouted. "Nice to see you again,” she said, without as much as a hint of a smile. "Don't start out by lying to me, just get to the point." She chuckled; to her, I was just a girl with a little bit of an attitude. "I heard you've been hired by the vampires to do a little detective work,” she said snidely. "Somebody had to." Her smile lost something at the corners of her mouth. Good. "So you're confirming the rumour?” she asked. "You want a written confession or something?" "Just ascertaining the facts. I think there's something you ought to see, and tell me what you know about it." She turned and got back in the car. Benjamin held open the rear door and more than a little forcefully urged me inside. I didn't like the smell of Rourke's car, it was like week old coffee and stale donuts. I heard the sound of the door locking and knew I was going exactly where they wanted me to. We headed into town. Down to Bank Street, where the central section of Crowngate from Broad Street to Huntington Hall, had been sealed off sometime around the nineteen fifties. A gunman, insane from not only the laws of equality emerging between whites and blacks but the growing number of preternaturals, had taken a gun to the shoppers. He was convinced they were evil; he'd killed twenty-nine people before turning it on himself. The ground there was still tainted by it big time. It had become a soul well, where those killed dwelled because the malevolence of the dead gunman's spirit kept them there. Many had tried to go in and save them but no one had ever succeeded. So they'd sealed it up, hoping it would keep normal people safe. It had until recent years when the rebellion of youth had found breaking into it cool, to either drink beer or as a shortcut. It had only taken a few deaths to bring the quiet foreboding reverence of the place roaring back,

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although many still came to catch a glimpse of the haunting beauty of the black pear tree. Rising up from the grave of the gunman was the tree. A beautiful if ordinary tree in itself but for the fruit. The black pear was normally harmless to humans—deeply sweet and only excess would make you ill. But these were tainted by the vile blood of a killer and his victims. It had made the skin become as black as pitch, the inside was a deep red flesh like raw meat and the taste although sweet as ever, was poisonous and deadly. Police and emergency vehicles were parked front to back down the smaller street where the boards were once again in need of serious repair. I could see light from inside. The dim torch light of ground teams looking for clues. Rourke pulled to a stop, eye-balling me through the rear view mirror. "We're here." I looked at the door next to me, heard the pin unlock, and I yanked the handle down so I could step out into some fresh air. I wasn't greeted by fresh air but by a muggy smell of smoke, blood and death. "Oh, Rourke,” I said, pulling a face to show my stomach was turning. “You take me to the nicest places." I slammed the door of the car shut, moving down so that I could walk between the cars. A small film of police tape was barring the way into the new door someone had made in the wooden boarding. I stopped at the tape knowing I couldn't cross it until Rourke caught up to me, so I shimmied along the front of the single fire truck so I could look inside. I could make out the reflective stripes on the firemen's jackets. They stood just inside the door watching the dance of the spotlight torches. The tape in front of me lifted and Rourke waved me inside. Now I'm not short for a woman, but when standing between two burly fire fighters, I felt tiny. The entire inside was a dark cavern, as this place had been taken off the electricity grid years ago. I was not about to scurry around in the dark like the cockroaches before me. "Lights!” I called out. I always felt as if my voice went just a little deeper when I was commanding something of my power. The lights above flickered to life, to an audible gasp from those suddenly brought out of the dark. "That's better,” I said, rolling my neck. "What the effin hell?” somebody shouted. "It's that voodoo you do, ain't it, Farbanks, it creeps me when you do that stuff in front of me without fair warning,” grumbled Benjamin. I just gave a smile and looked at Benjamin, who was grimacing at me. "What?” I eye-balled him back. He rubbed his arms and moved away from me. “This is why we never made it, you know,” said Benjamin. “All the witch stuff." "To my memory, Ben,” I said, an unfriendly lilt filling my voice. “We never made it because you're a pig."

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He turned at the titter of laughter, silencing all the younger officers with a stony glare. With the glow of electricity above me, I moved around careful not to knock discarded beer cans out of place. I stared down at the body not noticing anything other than the wrist, the white shirt bound by silver and mother of pearl cuff links. Three large welts covered the back of his pale hand where someone or something had scratched at him. I looked at his face. He was eerily beautiful as all vampires are. His face was a painting of a sculpture, curtained by hair the colour of blood. His shirt was ripped across the middle, and more scratch marks decorated his chest, some specifically across his heart. Rourke put a hand on my arm when I started to bend down to get a closer look. "Is he one of the missing ones?” she questioned. I looked up at her and without hesitation answered that he was. He was the very one I'd seen less than five hours ago, lying on a table somewhere else. Whoever was doing these things was very clever. They'd gotten rid of the only one they knew I'd seen. This was a red herring coming into play. "How long has he been here?” I asked. Rourke flicked her hair over her shoulder and shrugged. “How long has he been dead?" She answered my question with a question. I hated when people did that. I smirked and answered her. "Anywhere between three and six hundred years." Rourke's face went slack with disbelief and then very stern, when she realised she was being made fun of, and by me of all people. "You know what I meant, Farbanks,” she growled. "And so did you when I asked my question. It's obvious what happened to him didn't happen here." She gave me a little smile. She crossed her arms and her eyes said, she thought I was going to be out of my depth. "What makes you say so?” she queried. "Lack of blood. You see the welts. They are clearly visible because he had blood in him when they were made. That means, whoever's been holding him must have fed him as recently as tonight. If he'd been attacked here, then there should be blood." She wasn't so much impressed as surprised. She often looked at me like I was some kid, and to her, kids know nothing. "Are you telling me he was just dumped here?" "Yes. I'm certain because at eight o'clock, I was in the middle of a location spell and I saw him. He wasn't here and he wasn't cut up. It makes no sense." I ran my hand over the wound, not touching the flesh but enough so I could get a feel for their depth.

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"What is it?” asked Rourke leaning closer. "I'm not sure. Can you get someone to come over here and lift his head for me? And will you answer my first question, as you've dragged me here after I've had a very taxing night." "The call came in at about nine,” she sighed, conceding me that little detail. Rourke signalled to someone and I took a crab step towards the head and waited for them. Nine o'clock? They'd been fast to get rid of him. "Have you any suspects yet, Rourke?" "Person who found it—” she started to say with an air of boredom. You could always tell the people who took this side of the world seriously or not, those who didn't, referred to people like vampires as its . “Cutting through from the magic college stumbled over it. He was positive he saw someone running up the street, heading out of town towards Barbourne. We think it's a Were." I chuckled and craned my head to look at the back of the skull as the coroner lifted it—perfect, all intact under his pretty, long hair. The coroner laid him back down gently and I made direct eye contact with him. "Thank you,” I said. He gave me a little smile in return. I knew a lot of people who didn't like to work around people like this, even people like me. "What did you laugh at me for?” Rourke asked, getting cross. "Your theory is stupid." She placed her hand very defiantly on her hips. I was telling her that her work was flawed, so she had what I suppose was a right to get pissy about it. "He's all cut up,” she pointed at the body, “you said so yourself." "But a were didn't do it,” I stated flatly. "You so sure about that. I heard that vamps and weres don't get along." She looked down at me, like perhaps she finally had a piece of information that I didn't. I knew all about the hostility that existed between the two groups. "You're right, they never used to. They signed a pact about a century ago that brought an end to the hostilities." "But he's clawed up.” She jabbed her finger angrily towards the body on the floor. Rourke was clearly beginning to get frustrated. "Count them, Rourke. Three scratches! Weres have five pretty little digits just like you and me." I wiggled my fingers at her and she pulled a face, like I'd done something terribly obscene. I suppose in her book, I had. I'd compared the monsters to us and that was a big no-no when dealing with Rourke.

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"So we're looking for one with a missing finger. Accidents happen you know." I smacked my hand to my forehead. I wasn't going to stand here and explain to her about shifting limbs and re-growth. I was just too tired. "Fine, you go ahead and chase your Richard Kimble, Rourke. I know better, so I'll go after the one armed man and explore my own avenues." "What is it that you know and I don't?” She was quick. One thing I'd give her, was that she was quick. "His heart and his brain are both intact. It's after dark there's no reason why that vampire shouldn't be sitting up looking at us right now. Unless his soul's been taken." "He's a vampire, they don't have souls,” griped Benjamin, throwing in his two cents after being quiet for so long. It was a shame he had spoken, because I'd almost forgotten he was there. "Of course they do. It's that very essence returning to them every night that allows them to wake and walk and talk. His is missing, and there is no were that could do that." "You are saying to me that a werewolf can't be a wizard as well?" It was a sensible question for Rourke. I suppose if she didn't know the culture as well as she pretended, then the next few facts were going to surprise her. "Yep,” I said. "Why not?" I sighed and rolled my eyes to my watch, it was getting later and later. I was tired beyond all belief but there was no way I could just turn, walk away and not hear about it later. "If we're going to play twenty questions, can you at least get me some of that coffee that's going around?" Rourke smiled at me suddenly. I'm not sure why and it was frightening. She was one of these people that when they smiled, you got the distinct impression they were up to something. I moved out under the tape and Rourke told me I could sit in her car if I wanted. I was too tired to stand, so I opened the passenger door and perched on the edge. I was not getting all the way into the thing, not with the smell of it still so strong. Rourke reappeared and handed me a coffee. I think I understood why she'd smiled. Something in her must have remembered, that like her I was human and I had needs for caffeinated stimulants. "So, Buddha,” she said with the same smile still on her face. “Why can't werewolves do magic?" "Not so much a)—they can't as b)—they won't. Wolves, even werewolves, are of a canine sect. Like dogs, they don't like magic. It's why witches have cats. Magic is just one of those things the animal part of them can't understand, so it simply pegs it as dangerous and avoids it."

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"So you're not saying it's not a possibility?” she said, poking holes in my ‘werewolf didn't do it’ defence. "Technically, no, but it's highly unlikely. They'd have to fight their basic nature and that's a little too close to impossible." Rourke smiled again, with that same smile and this time I was positive she was up to something. Something I'd just said was justifying an action she'd already taken. She wouldn't have just sat on the body waiting until I showed up. It was nice to think that maybe I was that important, but I knew better than to let thoughts like that get too much weight. "What have you done?” I asked her, edging closer to try and read her face. "Beg your pardon.” She looked mortally offended. I felt even more uneasy now. She was trying to act innocent. "For the love of sanity, Rourke, what have you gone and done?” I stood up; I could just about match her height if I pushed myself up onto my toes a little. "I followed standard procedure!" She was avoiding answering me. I fixed her with my eyes, clenched my fists like I would use my talents against her. If there was one thing I knew about Rourke, it was that she was afraid to be on the business end of my powers. She caved. "I've imposed a quarantine on the Were community." "You did what?” I shouted, drawing several eyes. Rourke didn't show the tiniest sign of remorse. She felt she was completely right to have segregated a community, on the theory that one of them could have scratched a vampire. Technically, the vampire wasn't dead. Not that there were any laws that covered killing a vampire, but even so, the worst the perpetrator would be looking at was four years for GBH, if it even got to a trial. Most cases lacked credibility and were thrown out. Only one or two ever made it through, usually when a preternatural had committed a serious offence towards the human world, such as murder. But there'd never been a crime amongst two of the different groups come up before a judge. Rourke was doing this because she could and because she didn't like them, any of them, and she didn't like the fact she was the one who'd gotten stuck having to deal with them. "Jesus, Rourke, talk about your over kill." "I wouldn't have done it but they were unwilling to co-operate." I bit my lip to keep what I wanted to say inside. Rourke's idea of co-operation was allowing the police to march into their homes, trot them all out into the street, and interrogate them one after the other until they could find a weak one who would take the blame. They wanted someone to blame, a reason to shoot one of them. "Are you talking to their PR representative?” It was an obvious question to me, but I still felt I had to ask it. Rourke loved to cut corners.

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"Yes. He's been on our phone since the blockade went up, but he won't let any of us come inside. They've closed their gates,” Rourke said, very matter of fact, like there was nothing she could do. I looked down into the swirls of milk in my coffee, crashed back down on the back seat and knew, I was probably going to regret getting involved any further in this. "Let me talk to him." "What?” Once again, she looked surprised. "Put me on the phone with Urquhart." She raised her eyebrows at me. "You know this guy,” she asked. "I'm his kid's godmother. Just give me the goddamn phone." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twelve I managed to calm Urquhart down and arrange for a meeting. He wouldn't let a police presence in but he'd have me in—with one officer at Rourke's insistence. It was all set up for after sundown tomorrow. Rourke had been so nice. Since I was helping out anyway, she'd had me placed on the case as a consultant and laughed when she said the department might even throw a few sheckles my way as a kindness. Sometimes, I was convinced that I could do without their backhanded kindness. All I wanted was to crawl into bed but I sat down in the armchair making a list of things I had to do in the morning. Skipping class was secretly at the top of the list. I was going to have to call Dante's in the morning, talk to Tarquin and get him to meet me. Then, I could take him to properly identify the body. Which of course, meant calling the coroner to make an appointment and flashing the tiny bit of credentials Rourke had given me. I was going to get a call from the cop who'd got stuck with accompanying me through the blockade. I wasn't sure why, I guess it was a kind of introduction. My meeting with Urquhart was just after sun down—my preference, not his. He would have liked to do crumpets and tea in the afternoon. Then I'd come back here and wait for Aram to show up, as he was vowed to protect me. I suppose I'd also have to phone Magnus to let him know to show up at mine. I'd hit the morgue, then eat and figure where to go from there. With my list complete, I could go to sleep. I left my mobile on the bedside table, which is almost something I never do. I changed for bed and snuggled up under the covers, praying I was not taking too many steps towards becoming nocturnal. I had the same dream again. The dream where I felt like my insides were on fire, like the burning would consume me, while Aram's voice called my name. But this time, the hand was there, behind my eyelids, curling its fingers at me as if beckoning me. I didn't want to follow, but it hurt to struggle. That one hand was immensely powerful and haunting. I wanted to fight back but my power is a heat in itself and even I

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was smart enough to know, when you fight fire with fire, all you get is burnt. I rolled towards the sound of the Muppet Show theme and clear out of bed. The cold of the floor was a gruesome wakeup call. I reached toward the bedside table knowing who was calling before I even saw the ID. Muppets was only assigned to one number. The direct line from PCU. I rolled over onto my back, staring at the ceiling as I flipped it open. "Hello.” I grumbled, rubbing sleep from my eyes. "Ms. Farbanks?” came a youngish male voice. " MissFarbanks!” There was silence on the other end. “Look. I'm not married or incredibly stuck up, so it's Miss Farbanks." "If you say so." I thought I just had, but I was too tired to argue. Whatever time it was, it had to be too early for this call. I grabbed at the duvet, pulling it to the floor wrapping it around me. "And you are?” I asked. "PC LeBron." "French?” I queried. "On my father's side,” he admitted. "I'm sorry." "It seems to be a popular sentiment and I still bloody don't get why. Is it a joke?” He asked me the question with all seriousness. I couldn't help but laugh a little. “Uh huh and you're the punch line." "I'm not sure I'm going to like you,” he said hesitantly. "You don't know me, reserve judgement until you've met me. I take it you're the one that's coming with me tonight." "Into the land of the lunarly challenged?” He sighed. “Yeah, being new to the unit, I got the short straw." "I take it we're still to meet at the blockade before going in? If you're late, I'll go in without you." "I won't be. Benjamin told me you'd turn me into a frog if I'm late." He laughed. I'd let him have that one, only fair since I'd laughed at him earlier. "Him being a pig had nothing to do with me! I blame his parents, beer and late night TV." LeBron laughed and made muffled sounds. He'd obviously put his hand over the receiver to repeat what I'd said. Ben was probably sitting nearby.

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"He says he works nights, so it's not the TV's fault." "Doesn't deny the other two." There was more chatter and some laughter. "The drinking is apparently your fault, he's scarred for life." "I see. My telling him that I did magic was no worse than him, telling his parents he'd decided to be an asshole." Suddenly LeBron went silent as Benjamin's voice came booming into my ear. "At least my folks survived the shock." "LeBron, you tell that son of a bitch to go to hell." "I would but..." "Fine, put me on speaker phone and I'll tell him.” I was angry and I sure as hell wouldn't have minded giving him a piece of my mind. It'd be a nice change for him to have a piece of mind for once in his life, even if it was someone else's. "Jesus, this is turning into my parent's divorce. I'm sorry but I'm going to hang up before either of you say anything else you'll regret." "I will never regret anything I call that ass." "Fine, there isn't anything I'll regret repeating and perhaps being blamed for. I'll meet you later. Goodbye." I was angry as hell and it wasn't going away. Benjamin had gone below the belt, but there was no way in hell I'd ever force out of him the apology I wanted. I missed my mother like crazy. He knew that. She'd not been gone all that long, recent enough that it still ached inside. I'd never really known my father. He'd been killed in car crash on the M5 when I was three. I had tiny flashes of memories when it came to him but nothing solid, nothing I could really hold on to. Mum hadn't kept anything of his after he'd died. She didn't like to be reminded that her special person had been taken from her life. She'd never considered remarrying, truth be told, I don't even think she'd dated. She'd had her one great love and that was it. I wondered if I would ever find someone I felt that way about. My choices being very limited, I doubted if I ever would. Going from one reality to another did have its draw back, you were always keeping a secret from someone. The way my luck was going, any partner I did have more than likely wouldn't be normal. Normal people can't always cope with an abnormal girlfriend. I rolled so I was wrapped in the duvet like a sausage roll and stared at my phone. I had calls to make. I might as well start them while I was awake and had the phone in my hand. I called the coroner first, arranged to go there at eight, with sundown being about half five that gave me plenty of time. I could get from the meeting and back with plenty of time to collect Aram, Magnus, and Tarquin in order to make the trip to the city morgue. I could almost guarantee it wasn't going to be a pleasant trip. The simple facts

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were, I could see me getting the blame for the fatality list. Even though for the life of me, I still couldn't work out why he was dead. The no soul thing was puzzling me. I'd never heard of a way to remove a soul from someone like that and be able to keep it from returning to its rightful place. It's a soul's natural instinct, if you're not dead or a vampire. Dialling across realities is really quite easy when you know how. It was very similar to making an international call, you just had to remember the number for the country you wanted. Ironically, to call across to the reality which I found myself in after dark was triple six and the hash key, then all the numbers were the same. It didn't work the same when calls came in to my phones, because the numbers were both unique to me. They just called them and got me. I didn't have to remember numbers with my mobile. I had all the ones I could possibly need stored on my phone. I just hit the tab in my address book and it was ringing Dante's front office. There was always someone there during the day time, because someone had to take care of the routine things. Like cleaning blood out of the carpet and amending the guest list for the next evening. It worked like a normal club most of the time, but the special attraction apart from the huge dance floor, was that it was littered with about fifty vampires. All of whom would get very up close and personal with you if you wanted. People were into some weird shit, but I suppose it helped them abide by their rules. There were three types of vampire groups. Those that were the real monsters took blood and often left their unwilling victims dead, for some passer-by to find in the street. They were a younger generation of vampires mainly made up of turned humans, none of them more than fifty years a vampire. They were known as the Shadow Clan—divided into kiss groups of between fifteen and forty and were spread out across the world. They were the ones that gave vampires a bad name, the ones that got the others hunted. Most of the time they treated humans like Happy Meals on legs, but they also had a habit of turning humans indiscriminately. I'd even heard that they took money to turn people. Usually middle aged men and women who were so scared by the shadow of death on the horizon, they would do anything to escape it, they would let themselves be made into vampires. Turning a human is dangerous. Well, dangerous for the human. They have to drink your blood until you're so near death that you're too weak to fight. Sometimes they go too far and they don't care. It's not like you can do anything to them after that, except haunt their asses—and ghosts, to be honest, have no real power if you ignore them. But when you're there—drained and pale—they spill their blood on you, infecting you. Blood to blood contact—almost like AIDS. If it goes into your eyes, in an open wound or in your mouth—you'll be taken over by it. The change is never immediate, like any disease your body tries to fight but it loses. You die, your soul wanders off—to where, I don't know, but it goes. And you're dead. Dead for three days while the disease takes hold of your body. It changes it, makes it vampire, and then some sort of magic takes hold on the night of that third day, and wham, your soul is stuffed back inside you and you wake up. With Shadow Clan, they don't wait for you to wake. People have woken up in morgue draws, buried alive, and where they were killed, being picked at by bugs and rats. But awake now—or so I've been told—the first thing you want, need, crave, is the living blood of something, someone and you will do anything for it. You will kill for it, take it because your mind can't work until you've had it. Once you've killed, you're a different person—you have three choices. You find the nearest Shadow Clan and join up. You go it alone, then join one of the other two clans. Or, you end it all right there and destroy yourself, unable to go on, realising what you have become. This is why the numbers of the Shadow Court never grew too high. They couldn't keep their membership up, they either got hunted or lost members to other groups and attacks of conscience. I was glad that we didn't have them in Worcester, but a kiss of Shadow Clan didn't come to a place where there were already a huge number of vampires from another clan. The Worcester kiss was of the Sovereign Clan. They were made of the ancient vampires, so it wasn't

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often there was a vampire in their groups under fifty years. They had rules and discipline. They believed that blood had to come from the willing, they never drained anyone to death, and they took care of those they fed off. They made vampirism attractive to the point that it became a social activity, with places like Dante's springing up. Sovereign vampires turned humans very rarely. They believe that some sort of sign had to appear that marked the person as someone destined for their immortal life. They valued humans for their humanity; there were all sorts of weird rumours that flew about that they had divine powers. That they could do things like make a human immortal without making them a vampire. I'd never made a point of getting into the conversation with Aram, I didn't want to know where it might have ended up. The last group was older than the Shadow Clan but younger than the Sovereign. They were known as the Brotherhood of Man. They were a group of pacifist vampires. Made up of some older vampires and recruits taken in from the Shadow Clan. Those who had those little attacks of conscience but didn't have the balls to kill themselves. They'd suffered to get this eternal life and they couldn't just give it up. The Brotherhood believed in living hand in hand with humanity. Most hated being vampires, but they'd either been forced to take the change against their will at the hands of the Shadow Clan or they were tired of the endless, remorseless hunt for blood. They were like the ultimate PR for vampires. They didn't drink human blood at all; they'd worked for many years to make substitutes for blood or used animals. There were even stories that went along the lines of they were looking for a cure for the disease itself. Their numbers were at an all time low. Vampires can't live without fresh blood daily, even animal blood is a poor substitute and their supplements are as far from actual blood as they could get. They lose power without blood, and start to rot from the inside out like they would if they were truly dead. Then eventually, the magic that shoots their soul back into them at night stops working and they're gone. It's just as horrible a way to die as any, dying a second time. I had never once thought being a vampire might be fun, because I knew too much to ever think that. It had been meeting Aram six months into this new life of switching between two that had enlightened me. I'd liked him, because when I asked questions he had answered them. I'd been interested in their world and I think he'd mistaken it for an interest in him. Not that I completely hated the guy. I just never thought I could hold those kinds of feelings for someone who, as a matter of simple fact, had been dead for over half a millennium. Finally, someone picked up the other end of the phone and sleepily gave me the most rehearsed line I've ever heard. "Dante's Inferno, where all are welcome to come for a quick bite." It was a woman. Young by the sounds of it. This was probably a part time job for her, because no way she would work there more than for a few hours during the sunlight. "I'd like to talk to Tarquin, please.” I said politely. "We're fully booked for tonight but we are taking names and payments for the weekend. Can I put you down for then?" I rubbed my head. I bet she hadn't even listened to a word I'd just said. "I don't...” I didn't finish my sentence as she interrupted me with more well rehearsed bullshit. "Standard booking fee is fifty pounds a head, for VIP reservations with a particular vampire it will be twenty pounds extra."

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Jesus, that was steep. What the hell was Dante's now, a dance-host club? I didn't know you could request to sit with specific vampires. I wonder if Aram had regulars. I shook my head, this girl still wasn't listening to me. "I'm not trying to book." "I'm sorry then, goodbye, madam." I was cross now and screamed into the phone. "Don't you dare hang up the sodding phone." There was silence; she must have been reaching to put the phone back on the hook when my voice had boomed through it. I heard it come back against her ear and she spoke. "What is it?" She was quiet. I suppose I'd scared her a little. It's not every day someone yells at you down the phone. Maybe at least now she was a little bit awake and off autopilot. "Did you hear a single word I said?" "Urm." "I didn't think so. Listen to me very carefully, I want to speak to Tarquin." "I'm sorry I don't know who you're..." I sighed, a deep pissed off sigh. I was doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I didn't have to take him to see the body. Hell, I could leave him lying in the morgue and not feel more than a tiny bit of regret and I was getting hassled for my goodness. "Look, you just do mornings or something right?" She made a sound that I supposed meant I was right. She was breathing pretty hard and was probably a little panicked, not knowing what to say to me. "Then do me a favour and find someone who knows more than you and put them on the phone, okay? Can you do that?" "Um, okay. Are you all right with being put on hold? I promise I'm not going to hang up." "All right." Music came over the receiver. A tune a little too fuzzy and nice to go with the image the club projected but it was pleasant. It helped take the edge off my anger. I heard a click and the music stopped. "Miss, are you still there?” she said, nice and polite. That was better and it washed away the last little bit of my pissed off vibe that had been building.

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"Yes. I'm here." "I woke up one of the day guards, will he do?" "Does he know more about the people there than you do?" "Yes, Miss." "Then put him on." She made another little sound of acknowledgement, she was talking to someone. He sounded a little cross and snatched the receiver off her. "Who is this? Where do you get off yelling at the poor girl?” he reprimanded me. Maybe he was right, it's not like I'd introduced myself or anything. But then again she'd not really been listening to me. "I'm Cassandra Farbanks and I didn't yell that much." He went silent. He was still there because I could hear his heavy breath coming against the receiver, he swallowed hard. "Master Aram's Cassandra?" Oh God! I pressed my head into the duvet, not only was I a known name, but I was known as some sort of property of Aram's. I did not like that one bit. I grumbled and gave the only answer I knew that was going to get me anywhere. "Yes." There was no reason to argue the point. I knew the truth but if it got me what I needed, then I'd suffer the tiny blow to my pride. "Who am I talking to?" "I'm CJ. I'm a day guard. I watch over the sleeping..." "I know what a day guard does.” I interrupted. I didn't want to go off on a tangent here. Actually, I didn't know the precise details of the job but I could guess, he should at least know who was there and who wasn't. "I want to talk to Tarquin. Do you know him?" "Yes ma'am. Sienna's live-in. Um, but he's not here. Sienna has a private residence separate from Dante's." "Then I want the number for there." There were some hurried noises and the sound of a crash and a thud from behind him. The girl was probably looking for the number still in her panic and making a mess.

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"Do you have a pen?” he asked. "Might be a good idea, hold on." I put the phone down on the floor and wriggled like a caterpillar in the duvet so I was a little closer to the bedside table. I pulled the drawer open and took out a pen and note pad. I'd always kept the two nearby for writing down some of my dreams. I had some really good ones sometimes. I picked the phone back up, balancing it between my ear and my shoulder blade while I pulled the top off the pen with my teeth. I rolled the lid to the corner of my mouth. "Okay, shoot." He recited the number out to me. I jotted it down, nice and big and clear, so that in five minutes when I was done with this call, I could read what I'd written down. "Thank you." "You're welcome." "Um, tell whatever her name is, I'm sorry for ... you know. I'm a little cranky this morning. And can you leave a message for Aram to meet me at my place tonight sometime between half six and half seven." "I'll see it done." "Okay, then, bye." I couldn't click it off fast enough. I wasn't sure I had ever had that sort of reaction before. I guess they were worried more about what Aram would do, more than I would do if they were rude to me or took their time doing what I wanted. I felt suddenly a little bit powerful and then dismissed it. I'd much rather not end up with people who fawned over me like that. I viewed the number they'd given me. It was a residential number for a nice part of town. It was just short of all the big houses that were owned by the wizarding community. Nice safe area far away from the club and associations with it. I decided first things first, I was going to make a nice cup of coffee before making this next phone call. If I was going to be awake now, I might as well do it properly. I wriggled out of the duvet and stumbled from the bedroom and through to the kitchen. I could see the slight curve of Nancy's tail laying over the edge the arm of the armchair. She'd stayed in. That was okay with me, as long as she remembered she had to stay inside until sundown. I made up instant coffee with cold water and threw it into the microwave. I hoped doing it this way would be quicker. I was tired and lazy. It didn't pay off, because it tasted a bit metallic but it was still better than nothing. I flopped down on the couch, picked my notepad off the coffee table where I'd left it, and reread what I'd planned to do today. I took a swig of coffee and pulled a face. I'd forgotten for a moment the taste and looked around as if I'd expected my phone to still be with me. I'd left it on my bedside table along with the number I needed. It showed how asleep I still was. I dragged myself up to get it, pulling more faces as I forced myself to drink down my coffee. I was really hoping Tarquin was a morning person, because the last thing I needed was more of his attitude. Once again comfortable on the couch, I dialled in the number and relaxed back into the comfort of the cushion while I waited, then a slightly deep, male voice answered the phone.

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"Hello." "Tarquin?" I had to make it a question, because whoever this was sounded like him but also quite different, a tad more mature perhaps. "Dunno. I'll see if he's up." There was the sound of some yelling. Why did people need to yell? They could just put the receiver down next to the phone and go enquire politely. The deeper male voice came back over the line. "I won't tell you what he said exactly, but in politer terms I think he wishes you to go away." He chuckled a little to himself, as more sounds came from behind him somewhere in the distance, he laughed again. "He claims to be up now, who's calling?" "Cassandra Farbanks." He shouted it and got a louder reply, meaning Tarquin was indeed up and moving towards the phone. "Who?" "Tell him it's the annoyed witch from last night who's trying to do him a goddamn courtesy." More grumbling sounds came and the phone was jerked roughly towards a new voice, this time I was positive it was Tarquin. "What do you want? How did you get this number?" "I called Dante's, they gave it to me. And I'm calling you because, despite your attitude problem, you don't deserve to be left out of the loop." "Okay, what's so good about being in the loop?" "If you'll turn the attitude down, I'll tell you, but if you're going to be Mister Cranky Pants, you can go to hell and stew." I could hear him taking deep calming breaths and, God help me, try an approach that perhaps involved manners somewhere along the line. "I'm sorry. What have you found out?" "I think Sienna's body was found last night by PCU. It looks like whoever had him, dumped him to try and throw me off the right track." "Body? What do you mean body?"

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I felt like I was stating the obvious. "The fleshy part." Tarquin sounded a little panicked. We'd gone over this last night after the spell, that I didn't think any of the vampires were still doing their rising after dark bit. Whoever had answered the phone earlier was there comforting him. "Where is he?” he asked through his sobs. "At the morgue." "What's he doing there?" I knew he was upset but once again, I gave him the obvious. "That's where they take dead bodies." "He's not dead, damn it, he's a vampire." "He's as good as dead at the moment.” The minute I'd said it I wish I hadn't—there went all my sensitivity training. "What's that supposed to mean?" He yelled it into the phone and I could almost feel his enraged spit and venom flying towards me. I rubbed my temples; I really didn't want to do this conversation over the phone. "I don't think explanations are best via the phone. Aram is coming to my place tonight. I want you to meet him before he leaves Dante's and go with him. I've made an appointment with the coroner to view the body, to make sure he is who I think he is—for that I need you." "Why not just take Aram?" "I don't know how well Aram knew him, and Aram is only tagging along because Jareth won't let me continue the investigation—for lack of a better word—without his protection." "You should be flattered, someone as important as Jareth cares for your safety." He had a sneer to his voice that I didn't like, but I let it go since I'd not exactly been calling with jolly news. "Normally, I'd be all touched by the sentiment but around me, Aram can be more of a hindrance than an actual help." "I noticed." Tarquin had been there up to the point that Jareth had to intervene, he could see how protective and jealous Aram could get and we weren't even an item. "Look it's going to be a hard evening for you. I don't even mind if you show up a couple of sheets to the

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wind if it helps, but I need you to do this and I promise you a full explanation." "They're not going to do an autopsy on him, are they?" His voice came over ever so quiet, innocent and almost childlike. "No. I left instructions with the coroner to just tag and tray the body, no autopsy. I told him he was Jewish." It was a known fact that as part of the Jewish faith, they preferred not to have autopsies done. “He'll be all right.” I added trying to assuage his fear. "If he's not, I'm going to blame you." "Thanks for the warning." My doorbell rang and I leapt off the couch, happy for the minor distraction from the conversation at hand. I skidded to a stop in front of it, yanked it open harshly and did my best not to look surprised. "I'll see you later." I hung up the phone and looked down at Incarra who was beaming up at me mischievously. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirteen I didn't know quite what to do except invite her in. I vaguely recalled telling her it would be all right to pop by before five, but that had been before the police had dragged me around. Incarra sat on the end of the couch, staring at Nancy who was now awake and staring back. "You're not going to win, ‘cause you're just a stupid, smelly old cat,” said Incarra, taking a deep breath and increasing the strength of her gaze. Nancy—more than slightly offended—turned around, gave Incarra her backside, and skittered off into my bedroom. "Your cat so just mooned me. I'm telling you she's weird. It's like she knows what I'm saying and she lets no one pet her, even the grumpiest cats like to be stroked once in a while. Not her, the cantankerous flea bag." There was a hiss from the bedroom and some very nasty swears barging into my brain. Nancy knew some language that would make a sailor blush. I rubbed my temples, trying to convince the ensuing headache, that it really didn't want to take hold. "Leave her alone. Sometimes, I swear you only come here to upset the cat." "I wouldn't do it if it were a normal cat.” Incarra leaned over the back of the couch watching me as I made her drink of choice, proper coffee, and no half-assed microwave experiments this time. “I didn't mean to interrupt."

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"Interrupt?" I looked back over my shoulder at her. She smiled. "Your phone call. You could have kept talking." "It's all right, I was done anyway. It's not like I'm not going to be seeing them soon, but I was seeing you right now. I prioritised." "Who was it on the phone?” she asked, curious as ever. "A friend.” I looked over my shoulder again. Incarra was giving me a raised eyebrow. I just laughed. “I have friends other than you and Anton, ya know." "Mmmm, mysterious friends that never see the light of day." I suppose that was true, seeing as they were on the other side of a dimensional curtain, and one, by chance, was a vampire that wouldn't be up during the day anyway. "They got a name?" "Tarquin." I saw no point in lying to her about him. She'd never meet him and I was hoping when this was all over, that I wouldn't have to see him again either. "Jesus, what a name? You've got to be bloody good-looking to pull off a name like that!" I thought about it for a minute, I suppose he was a little easy on the eyes. "He's all right. Not really my type, more Anton's type." Incarra made a big O shape with her mouth and left it at that. I brought the coffee to the table, trying to discreetly put away my notes while pretending to make room to put the cups down. I apparently don't do discreet very well because she noticed. "What's this?" She snatched up the pad with my to-do list on and flicked through it. I regretted writing it on the same pad as my spell doodles. "Doodles, my ass! I knew you were up to something! What is all this weird stuff?" I wanted to grab the pad, whack her over the head with it, and tell her to mind her own business but she wasn't the kind of person to let it go at that. She was the type of person that as a kid, no matter how many times you told her to leave it alone, she'd poke the dead thing with a stick. Relentlessly and for hours. "I'm not supposed to tell." That bought me five minutes. Five minutes of her giving me the puppy dog eyes and the trembling bottom

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lip wanting to know. It would give me enough time to think up yet another semi-convincing lie. Half the time, I didn't believe my own lies so I didn't know why other people seemed to. Maybe they just didn't expect me to lie. She'd bought the granny sitting business and she knows I hate old people. They always smell like lavender soap and want to talk about the good old days, like there was something wrong with today. "Come on, tell me. Tell me please." Ok. Here went nothing. The trick to lying is confidence, just like a sales person. You're trying to get them to buy what you're selling and in both cases, the truth is entirely optional. "It's a project of Tarquin's. He's designing a computer game." That sounded good, there was only one real problem with it. "I didn't figure you for much of a gamer." And that was it. Lie, Cassandra, lie your ass off. "Past playing a little Tetris, neither did I, but this thing he's creating is really good. I mean the graphics are a little shaky but fixable, and the story is good." That's it, talk about it like you know anything about computer games. The last game thingy I had was a Game Boy Colour; talk about dated. "Is he going to sell it?" "Maybe,” I shrugged. “But it kind of gets finished a level at a time at the moment. He's just finished the next one." "So he called you?" "Uh huh. He's thinking of marketing it to a girl-based group, so he gets me to play to see if anything needs working on. He knows I'm not really a big gamer, but if I like it, then..." Incarra nodded along. I was praying to God that it meant she was interested, buying the lie, and not getting suspicious. "It sounds good but the notes are because..." "Oh! I got stuck at the end of the last level. Not really found the way to get to the next level yet." "Okay,” she took a deep breath and looked at me, intense energy in her eyes. “Tell me about it and I'll see if I can help." I did a whole body flop, let go of my breath, let my spine relax and my belly stick out. Incarra looked over my notes excitedly and I thought to myself, why the hell not. Another brain and a fresh pair of eyes might be a good idea. She'd never have to know the truth of it. "Okay, think of it as Scooby Doo meets Charmed ."

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I explained to her, the main character is a fairly inexperienced witch who is looking for some missing people. I left out the bits about vampires and half elves trying to keep it simple. I'd explained that in level two I'd learnt a locating spell which opened an insert film in which I saw one of the missing people dead, but someone else's magic interrupted it and the character ends up blacking out. When she wakes up, the body has been found in a different location than the one she saw it in. Someone else has been blamed for it and she has no leads. "So your character is going to talk to the accused?" I nodded, as I was going to see Urquhart first thing. I'd left out the part about him being the head of PR for the werewolf community. "And you say the witness is unreliable?” she mused. "They said they'd seen someone else running away, but they couldn't see them clearly enough to say who.” I repeated what Rourke had told me, but with a tad more scepticism than she'd used. "What about these people?" She tapped on top of a doodle. Last night, while trying to think what to do, I'd drawn a body surrounded by some floating heads and numbered them from one to twenty nine. "Those aren't actual people, they're the ghosts of people who haunt the location where he was found." "Well, why can't you ask them what happened? I mean if they were there and they saw it." I leapt from my chair and threw my arms around her. She seemed a little shocked but none the worse for being jumped on. I could go back to the scene of the body dump, which would be free of police and interrogate the ghosts as witnesses. One thing about the spirits of the dead being bound to one place was that they saw everything. If I wanted to know what had actually happened, I had to ask them. I wanted the truth, not the brief description of a half-scared school kid who'd been doing bad things in the dark on a dare. "That's genius. I know a séance spell. I mean, my character learnt one back in level one. I knew there had to be a reason." "I knew I could help. Now you've got that cracked. What do you say we go out tonight? I want to set you up on a street corner in something trashy to really wind Anton up." I let go of her, sliding off the couch and hitting the floor on my knees. "You're not still on that are you? You know you've got to tell him you've been winding him up?” I looked at her sternly but she just smiled. "Not until tomorrow." "By midnight tonight,” I said, being firm. "You're no fun. Come on, one last big one to really get him." I was about to agree, the look on his face would be priceless, but I was going to be away. I was

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supposed to activate Virginia's grounding spell tonight so I could spend the whole weekend on the case. "I can't. I'm going to Tarquin's for the weekend; he lives the other side of Birmingham. I thought we'd cut out the commute if I stayed over for a couple of nights." "Was it his idea? Are you sure he's...” She flapped her hand and pursed her lips. I laughed. “He has a boyfriend. I've met him—sort of." "Really? What was he like?" I tried not to laugh. "A little quiet.” Which was the understatement of the year, all things considered. "Is Tarquin the flamboyant loud type?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. He wasn't camp but there was a loudness to him, one that made my head hurt. "He can certainly reach a certain volume but I wouldn't say he was on Anton's level. More masculine." "And he's good looking.” Incarra sighed. “All the good ones are gay." I looked at her, her body language changed and I knew exactly what was wrong. "Guy in the coffee shop?” I asked. "Making on another bloke big time in Evolution last night. Not that it was unpleasant to watch or anything." Incarra got a big goofy grin on her face. She believed in equal opportunities when it came to sexism. If men could have fantasies about two women, then, by her definition, we were allowed the same rights, only with men. "You're a total perv." "Yeah I know,” she said, her grin never leaving her face. "Oh speaking of ... You know what you threw in my trolley? Only I forgot to take it out and ended up buying the damn things." Incarra burst into laughter, real deeply amused laughter. After a minute, I started to feel offended, especially when tears began to leak out the corner of her eyes. "That's not the worse part!" "There's more?” She was trying really badly to catch her breath. "I bumped into a male friend who helped me unpack my shopping. And guess what the first thing he found was."

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"Oh stop! Stop. He did not! Oh you're killing me." "I damn well ought to. You try explaining to a reasonably sane person the need for a jumbo sized box." Incarra flopped onto her side curling up into a tight little ball struggling to get her breath through the tears. "Oh God, don't hyperventilate. Do you need a paper bag?" She waved her hand out at me. "No. No. I'll be okay; just give me a minute." Slowly, and several deep breaths later, she rose to sit up again with a serious face. I tilted my head to the side, a little curious as to what warranted the sudden change in mood. "You know I was beginning to think you were keeping something horrible from me. I know people have to have their secrets but having a life isn't something you need to keep so hush-hush." "I didn't realise I had." Another lie, but once on a run I couldn't stop, or the whole lot could unravel on my head. It was good that my memory was perfect, because I had a lot to remember most of the time. "I was beginning to believe Anton was right, not about the whole call girl thing because that's just silly, but maybe there was something wrong." "Good to know." She stood up gathered her things together and smiled down at me. "Well I've got to head off. I promised my mum I'd pick up some things for the new recipe she wants to try." "Your mum's cooking again? Should I notify the HAZMAT team?" Incarra's mum was always trying new recipes, burning the kitchen down in the process but you had to give her ten points for trying. She wasn't the traditional mum—she was more like a friend to her daughter than an authority figure. Occasionally she went in nineteen-fifties house-wife mode, the hair bands and the bad hoop skirt dresses trying to be very motherly. It didn't work and Incarra always ended up ducking for cover. Incarra was a child of divorce who didn't see her dad a lot—didn't care to either. She and her mum were the ultimate duo, like my mother and I used to be. I had an open invitation to dinner anytime I wanted. I was always careful I didn't go over during one of her experimental moods. "Put them on yellow alert but I've got a panic button if I need them." I walked with her to the door and she stood there hands behind her back smiling at me. "By the way, it's way past lunch, not that pyjama's aren't a good look for you but you might want to consider dressing." "Yeah, yeah, get gone."

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She waved. "Ja ne." I shut the door and stared back at the table. She'd barely drunk any of her coffee. That was a little unusual. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Fourteen I made a detour to the art shop before sunset. By detour, I meant I walked ten minutes in the opposite direction I was supposed to be going. Ideas had been forming in my head since talking to Incarra. If I could get the ghosts to describe whom they saw, I could do a sketch that even PCU couldn't ignore. Of course it would be highly debated by a lawyer whether you could use the spirits of the dead as witnesses, not one hundred percent reliable to be sure. The sun was getting ready to go down behind the horizon. I stepped behind a wall, knowing that when the world changed around me, the police blockade would appear and I didn't want to spook anyone by just seeming appear. My breath caught as my skin tingled like a thousand butterflies were just below the surface, and suddenly the world was much darker than it had been before. The night sky of this other side almost had a violet haze, the stars were so bright, and a bonus of this side was less pollution. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the locket. The delicate silver chain felt so light as it trailed across the skin of my neck. I clipped it into place and the magic began. I heard the clunk of chains and my whole body was pulled to my knees. I felt like a lead weight; but that was me being grounded to this reality. It would work until the magic ran out or I removed it. I was going to be kept here. I'd always wondered what this side would be like during the day, now I'd get the chance to see it for myself. I straightened myself out making sure my bag was in place, and headed towards the blockade. The two cops on duty eyed me. I didn't recognise either of them so it was doubtful either of them would know me by sight either. The older of the two had an expanding waistline, a thick bristle moustache, and a bumper sticker on his squad car that claimed, ‘Cops use bigger guns'. The British police I'd always known were not, by nature, an armed force—not like American police—but on this side of things, with all the extra beasties that could kill you in the performance of your duties, they were standard issue. His was nestled in its holster midway down his hip, it should have been at his waist but only if his uniform had been of the right size. "And where do you think you're going, little lady?" I tried not to huff. ‘Little lady.’ I was taller than he was. I pointed to the barred gate ahead of me—barred from the community's side to keep the police out, not the werewolves in. "In there." "Sorry but you're not. I've got orders, no one in or out not until we smoke the monster out."

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"How very Alice in Wonderland of you." They stared at me, they didn't get the reference. It was when Alice grew to the size of the White Rabbit's house and instead of seeing who it really was, he yelled ‘monster’ and he and the Dodo started the fire, singing, ‘we'll smoke the monster out.’ Or, at least, in the Disney cartoon they had. Even I was sometimes surprised by the inane bits of things I knew. "I'm Cassandra Farbanks. I'm consulting with the unit. I'm here to talk them into co-operating." The two cops stared at each other. "Is that on our list?" "Have a look." The younger one, a rake by comparison, headed for the open door of another squad car, tripping over his laces and fumbling with the clipboard. There was something a little Laurel and Hardy about these two. "Yup it's written here." "Let me see." Hardy gruffly grabbed the board away from the younger one and stared down at the print out checking twice. "You got some ID." I sighed and routed around in my bag for my wallet, from which I produced my driver's licence. He scrutinized it thoroughly. "Jesus, you're young for this work, ain't you." "I may be young but I'm good. I don't suppose either of you is LeBron?" "No ma'am. I'm Gibbs and that there's Marshall. LeBron'll be in the van over there.” He pointed to where a monitoring van was parked against the curb. "Do me a favour. Radio him, tell him I said outside by the blockade not in the van, and if he's not here in five, I'll go in without him." I moved through the barriers as I heard the crackle of the radio behind me. I moved towards the gate to the sound of a loud metallic bang and hurrying feet. "Jesus, you don't give any room for interpretation, do you." "Hasn't Benjamin spun you the bit about she who must be obeyed ." I turned my head to look at him. He was more or less the same age as Anton. His hair was a thick jet black, greased back like it was stuck in the fifties. He had a fairly athletic physique and actually wasn't too bad looking with a tiny touch of the exotic to his dark eyes. He gave me a little smile while giving me

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a quick look from head to toe. "Benjamin says a lot of things." "And do you listen?" "Sometimes,” he said. "Well the rest of the time you have a brain, you don't want to listen to him for fear of becoming like him." LeBron looked like I had smacked him. "He's the best at PCU." "No. Rourke's the best at PCU, when she can be even half assed to do her job.” I hated to admit that. If it got back to her, I would never hear the end of it. "How can you say that, when I know you don't agree with the quarantine?” he asked, still eying me very carefully. "Because, she may have set it up with what little circumstantial evidence she had, but I know its standard procedure. It's actually one of only seven laws we have, to deal with people like these, and Rourke's boss is always breathing down her neck to keep things peaceful.” I looked at LeBron who was silent for a minute. I pulled some loose hairs away from my face and he watched out of the corner of his eye. “Most of the time things are peaceful, because these groups keep mainly to themselves and abide by the letter of the law. Practically a hundred percent of crimes in this city are solely the act of human perpetrators." "What about rogue witches and wizards?" "Humans, humans with a lot of power but still." "I suppose we don't deal with a lot of those cases either." I put my hand on my hip and took a deep breath. "That's because the wizard community has its own laws and enforcers, so you never need to. They make the laws, they enforce the laws and punish those who break it. I know, I've been there." "You broke magical law?” His eyes rounded with a little bit of shock. "Only once." He gave me a look. "Only a little. I got off without punishment, the girl who sort of led the act is currently a level four life form." "Level four?" "Domestic quadrupeds. Cats, dogs, sheep, cows, goats, rabbits, mice, rats. I could go on but I won't.”

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Actually, that was about it. "Remind me not to piss off the magical community." "You're perfectly safe from the Wizard community and their laws only extend to humans who do magic. Non-magic humans and non-humans who do magic are outside of their moral jurisdiction." "So who polices the non-humans?" "They do and we do. It's a combined effort, but they do most of the work because we have our own kind to deal with too. PCU is only really around to make humans feel like the government wants to protect us from the ‘monsters.’ As it's hardly in use and it's too big when it won't work both sides of the street equally, downsizing is going to happen. You want to be in the right place so you don't get left behind. People like Ben will be the first to go. He's prejudiced and spouts off about his opinions, he makes preternatural jokes and he has a record." "Record?" "He's got two black marks for GBH against what is classified as a non-human.” I'd read the incident report. He'd been three sheets to the wind and thought the guy was looking at him the wrong way. "How do you know that?" "Jeanette in records owed me a favour and I really needed a laugh. His middle name is Eugene, if you're interested." He laughed at the same time as making sure his shirt was tucked in and his tie straight. I guess he wanted to look official. "So how do we do this?” he asked, getting right to business. "Politely usually works best." I moved to the gate and stuck my hand through. I waved it, so it made a nice blurry movement in the growing dark. Someone had to be watching the gate and the police on the other side of it, they'd move over to see what I wanted. LeBron jumped, as a large man dressed like he should have been at a building site was suddenly there. "Farbanks and guest to see Urquhart.” I said, in a tone that was both polite and showed I wasn't afraid of him. "He said you were coming,” he said, as he lifted the great iron beam with one hand and held the gate open with the other. “Come on in." "Thank you." I walked through looking back over my shoulder. LeBron followed with very nervous footsteps. "Um ... yeah ... thanks,” he said nervously. He kept an eye on the guy holding the beam effortlessly and seemed to be even worse when he smiled and replied.

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"No problem." The guy's smile showed just a hint of were fang and LeBron scurried to catch up to me. If he'd been any more scared, I'd have sworn he might have taken my hand. Instead, he kept annoyingly close to my back, his feet crunching down on the back of my heels as we walked. "If you're that scared, why don't you walk in front?" "I am not af..." He almost screamed as a howl came rippling through the air. He moved around the front of me like lightening. "What was that?” he asked, his eyes searching the dark for imminent danger. "A call for dinner; like ringing a bell or gong or something." "We're not dinner, are we?" I stopped to look at him. I swear my mouth was gaping because he had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. "Don't be stupid. How long have you been with PCU anyway?" "Two months." I rolled my eyes and started walking again. "What do you know about lycanthropy?" He shrugged his shoulders as we walked along the street, under the gentle glow of the street lamps. They seemed to turn on one by one ahead of each one we were under. "Basics—furry once a month, silver bullets, wolfsbane." "In other words—nothing." He stopped dead in front of me, there was nothing like having your pride wounded to make you stop being afraid of where you are. "How about level? Growth? Feeding?" "What?” His words sounded a little cross. He was older than I was, so he obviously resented being told that he knew nothing. I was going to prove I knew what I was talking about. "There are five different levels of werewolf. Level one is your lowest and level five the highest but most level fives are born wolves, not turned humans."

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"Wait! They have levels?” He shook his head like he wasn't getting it. "Uh huh. You've got your level ones—survived the bite or attack but don't realise they're a werewolf. When they change over the lunar cycle, it's three days, not one. The two nights either side of the moon also provoke the change. They change, go out to feed, come back home, and wake up next morning as if nothing has happened." "They sound dangerous." "They can be but to be honest, not many people survive an attack by a rogue werewolf, and those that do very rarely become level ones. Most are level two, at least, to begin with." "Begin with?” He asked. "They can progress." I let him digest that little tid-bit and actually took the lead over him again. "So what's level two?” he asked, running to catch up to me, figuring, I suppose, if we walked side by side, no one was in charge here. "They are aware, they remember but they don't always have control, they usually have someone who looks out for them." "Level three?" I scratched my eyebrow, wondering when I'd become everybody's walking encyclopaedia on the weird and wonderful world. "Control. They know what they are, what they do, and can control it so no one gets hurt." "And the last two?" "Level fours have so much control, they only need to shift forms on the actual night of the full moon and can even talk in animal form. Level fives as I said, are mainly hereditary lycanthropes—those who were born this way, they don't have to shift. They're not tied to the lunar cycle. They can choose to live a completely human life, providing they can adjust to their superior speed, sight, strength, and sense of smell. It's relatively easy for them to blend in. Level fours and fives can also shift at will outside of the lunar cycle. Fours and fives act as guardians, not only for the community in which they live but for level threes and under too." "I didn't get that it was so complex." "Humanity is complex. You can't lump us all into one category and hope it defines us. Despite all you will hear, lycanthropes are human. They have, for lack of a better word, a disease or genetic disease that affects them, at most, three days out of the month. Muscular dystrophy is a disease but we aren't afraid or mean to the people that have it." "Muscular dystrophy doesn't give you claws that can rip through human flesh." That was a good point. Maybe he wasn't completely hopeless.

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"No but have you ever had one of those wheel-chairs run over your foot? Hurts like buggedy." He stopped and laughed, a strange sound in such an eerie silent place. "So we should what, treat them as a charity?" "No. They'd see that too much like pity. Just treat them like a human, that's all they ask. That's it, over there." LeBron looked at the semi-detached, three floor Victorian red brick. It had steps up to the front door lined by delicate looking black railings. The curtains were drawn with light shining out from underneath them and the front door, although large and imposing, was painted an almost friendly shade of green. "This Urquhart guy. What level is he?" "He's a five, he was born into this life." We stopped at the bottom of the stairs. We could have gone straight up but I needed to give him a minute to get anything else he needed to off his chest. "I've heard of people who've chosen to become werewolves. That's a little twisted. isn't it?" "No more than wanting to be a Jehovah's Witness. You get benefits. Imagine strength, speed, better sight. You wouldn't need glasses because lycanthropy would fix it. A better sense of smell. And when you shift, you can heal wounds or re-grow limbs and you never get sick." "Never get sick?" "Lycanthropy is a disease, as I said it destroys everything but itself. No cancer, no AIDS, not even a cold." "What would the medical world say?" "They said if they could use lycanthrope blood to treat these illnesses, they would, but the downside is too great because you become a lycanthrope." I headed up the steps towards the door. LeBron seemed a little nervous but kept close to me as I rang the bell. The door pulled open and two little blue eyes stared up at me. I bent down so my face was level with Urquhart's eight-year-old son. "Hey, Jack, your daddy in." He pulled the door wider and turned his head, yelling in the direction of the stairs. "Dad! Cassandra and the pig are here." "Jack, be polite,” came his voice from upstairs. His son grumbled an apology and let us into the hallway. LeBron gaped at the décor like he hadn't expected wall-papered, family photo filled, floral patterned suburbia.

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"It's so normal,” he exclaimed. The door slammed shut behind us. "What did you expect? Damp decay and meat dripping from the walls." Jack shoved passed LeBron as he spoke, but he brushed close to me so that my elbow ran over the top of his head. I suppose it was his way of showing he was friendly. There was a rush of excitement upstairs, shouts and a scream. LeBron reached for his gun but I put my hand on his to stop him. He flinched at the touch, pulling away. His eyes turned back to the stairs, where hurtling down toward us, came a blonde, pigtailed mess in a towel. "Cassie." I dropped, grabbed the little bundle—finding it to be a soapy, wet bundle—and picked her up. "Ooo, Zoë, you're getting so heavy." To which I got screamed at in the face and half hugged to death. Zoë was just three. I'd been there when she was born and I was officially her godmother. Footsteps came on the stairs loud and fast. I looked up at Urquhart, who was looking a little bit cross. "Young lady, you get back up here and let your mother finish your bath, and you can see Cassandra before you go to bed if you're good." I put her down on the floor not wanting to encourage her in any way to disobey her parents. She made a slow, sad walk up the stairs with her father's eyes focused on her the entire time. She passed him and he turned to follow her. "I'll be down in a minute,” he said. “Make yourself at home." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Fifteen Simian Urquhart was not a specifically striking man. He had a handsomeness that grows with familiarity and he glows as a father like no other man, but apart from that, I dare to call him ordinary. He was probably the closest thing I'd ever get to a big brother. The only thing, if anything, that made him stand out from a crowd was his eyes. They were the palest blue I'd ever seen, wolf like. As when you stare into them, you could see and feel the wilderness. His eyes were soulful. He took the armchair close to the end of the couch I'd settled on. LeBron stood, admiring various things around the room, no doubt at how normal they all were. "Cassandra, feet,” barked Simian.

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I looked at my heels, they were happily resting on the daily community newspaper on his coffee table. "Sorry.” I put them down, crossed my legs and rested my hands on my knees. "Is he all right?" Simian looked at LeBron as he sauntered around behind me. I looked over my shoulder to check he wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be. "He's a little new at this." LeBron wasn't listening to us, he was watching the pictures on a digital photo frame change. "How did the police rope you in then?" "The dead vampire was one of the ones I've been charged to find. Rourke had heard about it and she dragged me into this mess last night." He nodded, scratching his chin like he sympathised with me, he knew me well enough to know I hated being dictated to. "Simian, would our guests like coffee?" Sophie appeared in the doorway. She was his wife, completely human from her mousy brown hair to her espadrilles. It was actually Sophie I'd met originally, not Simian. Three years ago, the community didn't have a supermarket inside its walls. Now they had a Co-op, but back then, they had to venture outside to get food. Sophie eight months pregnant had needed a few things. She hadn't thought anything about leaving the community to go pick them up. Anti-werewolf sentiment was at an all time high, and some people had seen her leave, followed and attacked her. I'd heard her scream and interfered. I'd tried words at first but when I was socked across the jaw and called a freak lover, I'd lost my temper. I'd turned my new and untrained powers on them. Luckily, they didn't get too hurt, but a few injuries and lots of big flashy lights had made them run. A little bruised and stressed, Sophie had gone into labour a month early. I called the ambulance, went with her to the hospital, and stayed through most of the night. I met Simian in the waiting room. I explained to him what had happened and calmed him down when he wanted to go deal some more pain to them. We ended up talking for a while and then he asked me something I'd never been asked before. Why did I stick my neck out for a werewolf's wife? I suppose my answer surprised him. I told him we're all just folk and that folk shouldn't gang up on each other, it just wasn't right. He shook my hand, thanked me so many times, and exchanged his address for my number. I'd popped into the hospital to check on her a couple of times and then made a couple of trips to their home. The couple and their son were soon my friends. I'd made an impression on them; so much so that they asked me to be Zoë's godmother. I'd started protecting her before I knew her, before she'd even been born; they could think of no better guardian. I'd been so flattered, I'd accepted without hesitation. It didn't mean I had to do much, sometimes I came to dinner, baby-sat, went to events at her school and family barbeques. I did very little to raise her, just impressed her with tiny magic tricks. Zoë loved magic because, unlike her brother, she was born completely human. Jack was a born wolf just like his father. I looked back over my shoulder as LeBron stared like he'd not been asked such a simple question.

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"Don't be rude, answer the nice lady,” I said under my breath. LeBron turned to Sophie and gave an uneasy smile. “Um, please; white and sugar." She gave him the sweet smile of an obvious primary school teacher, before marching herself into the kitchen. "LeBron, would you sit down, you're such a bundle of nerves." He grunted, he didn't think Urquhart had noticed but nerves had a smell all of its own that werewolves could detect. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch from me. I wasn't sure whether he wanted to be as far away as possible from Simian, or me. Zoë's little head popped around the door, startling LeBron slightly. She was dressed in pyjamas with little kittens and yarn balls on them. She shuffled into the room in her puppy dog slippers. Simian looked at her with gentle eyes and gave a little nod. We'd not gotten to talk about the stuff I knew he wouldn't want her to hear yet. She couldn't get past LeBron's legs so she clambered over them. He shook a little, trying not to cringe. Was he unsettled because she was the child of a werewolf, or because she was a child? She crawled up onto the couch and curled up against my side happily, so I stroked her hair. "She seems to like you,” commented LeBron sounding a tad suspicious. "Cassandra is family,” said Simian in an authoritive tone. “She is always welcome here along with those that she says are alright." "Family?” he questioned. Zoë turned her sleepy head to look at LeBron. “My god mother,” she chirped proudly. "That's right.” I pressed my finger against the tip of her tiny little nose and she laughed, nuzzling her head back into the safety of my body. "You've got a foot in every camp it seems,” chuckled LeBron. "What's that supposed to mean?” I snapped. "You're a witch, working for vampires, who knows werewolves and was seen in the company of an elf last night." Benjamin. I knew it the minute he'd said it, that guy just loved to hear his own voice. It didn't seem to even matter what he was saying or to whom anymore. "He's a half-elf actually so get your facts right, and didn't I tell you not to listen to Benjamin. He's a bitter, bitter man." "Is he ever." LeBron looked at Simian. I forgot that he'd met Benjamin. We'd bumped into him and Sophie at the cinema one night. Benjamin had been lovely, shaking his hand and being nice, being funny. When I'd told him who Simian was a little later, his reaction was completely different. The first thing he'd done was

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wash his hands with disinfectant. I'd seen the truth of him then and he'd only got worse. When I'd broken up with him, he'd cracked down on me a little. I'd, of course, told Simian everything about him, including that night, and he didn't care much for Benjamin. LeBron looked like he was about to say something when Sophie returned with a tray of coffee cups. She handed one straight to LeBron to occupy him. She may have been human but she was smart and sensitive, she knew how to keep the peace in her own home. She circled the back of the couch leaving the tray and the last two coffees on the table. "Okay, Zoë, time for bed. I said you could have five minutes. Now, come along; they've got grown-up business to talk about." "I want Cassandra to tuck me in,” she whined. "She's got to talk to your daddy." Zoë stood up on the couch, stomping her little feet and making the most awful faces she could come up with. Sophie sighed and gave me a sideways glance. "I'll come up before I go, I promise." Zoë looked at me. “Promise?" I nodded, but she wasn't about to take me on my word, she held out her little finger. I smiled and took it with mine, shaking on it, it was the kid's way of making a promise unbreakable. She raised her arms up, allowing her mother to pick her up from the couch and carry her upstairs. I took my coffee and took a nice long sip, gathering my thoughts. "How long are they going to keep up this ridiculous blockade?” asked Simian with a disapproving grunt. "Legally, they won't be able to for more than seventy-two hours." He sighed. “We have people with normal jobs outside of these walls, you know. If they can't get to work again..." "You should co-operate then,” said LeBron. I jabbed him harshly with my foot, he burnt his mouth on his coffee, and that, if nothing else, made him be quiet. "I told DI Rourke that we don't know anything about the deceased vampire and it's true. Tell me why she is of the belief that we have anything to do with it?" "Claw marks on the body, in striations of three." "Claw marks from us would be five lines, not three." I sighed. “That's what I told her when she asked me, but it was too late. She'd jumped to conclusions and the blockade was in place. You need to tell me what you told her."

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"I answered her questions. We had nothing to do with it. That we have no problems with the vampires—haven't for a century. We did know about the disappearance of the vampires and that we couldn't account for the whereabouts of some of our people." "That would have added fuel to the fire.” I sipped more of my coffee and shot a look to LeBron to see if he was going to butt in again. "I tried to explain, but when I refused to have her march in here and do house-to-house searches, she put up that stupid blockade." "She's just trying to find out who did this,” said LeBron. "I understand that,” Simian said, turning to LeBron. “It's her methods I question." "There's nothing wrong with her methods.” LeBron was getting a little defensive. He obviously took his work for her very seriously. New recruits often did, until they had that tiny little bit of naivety they had left knocked out of them. "Oh no,” I interrupted. “She's just conducting an investigation like a witch-hunt and trying to violate people's basic human rights. House-to-house searches are illegal without a warrant and she has no evidence with which to obtain one. She's trying to say the rules don't apply just because they're..." "Werewolves,” he interrupted. "Yes. I told you, just because they're affected by something doesn't mean they are all of a sudden not human under the law. It's the same as saying we've got a missing car stereo, let's do a house-to-house search of the nearest black neighbourhood to see if it's there." LeBron looked a little stunned by the way I'd put it, but I think he saw how I'd gotten there because he shut up, pulled out a little pad, and quietly went to making notes. "Now,” I said, turning back to Simian. “How many of your people are unaccounted for?" "Four have been missing for just over a week; not all at the same time but that's the total. We have regular head counts, twice a month." "Did they go to those?” I checked. "They were all at the last one but since then, they've disappeared. Two of them that have partners, have been reported to us as missing. We tried to tell the police but they were unreceptive because they were wolves. I never even got to give them their names. We had one of their partners go outside and call them in as missing persons, it should be on record." "What are the names?" Simian got up from his seat, walked over to an armoire in the corner and pulled a piece of paper out of the drawer. He handed it to me and I scanned it, then handed it to LeBron, who copied down the details. "And you say they've all gone missing in the last week or so?" "Yes."

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I gave it a little thought. It was no coincidence that these people went missing in the same week as three missing vampires and a missing half-elf woman. I wonder if any other groups in town were experiencing a rash of missing people. I'd have to make some phone calls. Or better, I could make LeBron make them while I was busy chasing up my other lead. "Cassandra. Is something going on that I ought to know about?” Simian looked at me like he knew I was holding out on him. He didn't need to be involved anymore than he had to. "Maybe. Let me ask you a question. The four that have gone missing; are they all in level four or higher?" "Three are level four and one is a five. These are not the sorts of people to wander off. We have a strong sense of community here and they all have responsibilities they take very seriously." They were strong, powerful members of their group, just like the others missing. Aram had described his missing vampires as powerful, but less well guarded than he or his brother, which meant they would be targets too if they could be got to. The only time Aram could really be got to was when he was visiting me. Damn it, he'd be at my place by now if not on the way there. "Thank you, Simian. I'm going to have to rush, I have other appointments tonight. I'll say goodbye to Zoë and be in touch as soon as." "That's it?” asked LeBron. "Yes, that's it. Wait by the front door, I won't be more than a minute." I went upstairs fast. Zoë was drifting off, she barely felt the tug of the covers shifting as I secured them in place and said goodnight. It was then I saw the toy on the end of her bed. A large black monkey in a white t-shirt with a banana on it. I picked him up and a voice box chirped to life. "I'm just crazy about bananas." Zoë opened her little eyes and peered at me in the darkness. "Cassandra?" "Uh huh, sweetie, I just came to say goodbye. Zoë, could I borrow your toy? I'll bring him back I promise." "Okay. Bye-bye." She lay her head back down and sleepily snuggled into her nice warm bed. LeBron was waiting on the outside steps with Simian holding the door open. I guess he didn't like waiting inside alone with him. I gave Simian a hug. "I'll do what I can for you, but you may have to make some noise on your end too." He gave me a smile and a nod. "I understand. But, um, what are you doing with Mr Fish ‘n chips?"

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"Fish ‘n chips?" He pointed down to the monkey, slung precariously over the top of my shoulder bag. "The monkey? Zoë said I could borrow him." "If you're lonely, I know some nice strapping young..." I put my hand on his shoulder and he stopped. He knew that he really shouldn't finish that sentence. "Goodnight, Simian." I walked out with LeBron into the cold and pressed my jacket tighter around myself, waving back over my shoulder in response to Simian's goodbyes. LeBron kept in step with me as we headed for the main gate. "We were there less than an hour,” he complained. "Do you have a point?" "It didn't seem like much of an interrogation." "That's because it wasn't one. Look, we got what we needed to know. They didn't do it, but they are experiencing the same rash of disappearances that some of the other groups are. Rourke is going to have to give on this one." LeBron nodded a little and then he surprised me. “What do you want me to do?" I stopped dead, he kept walking for a minute but turned when he realised I wasn't following. He came back to me and locked eyes. "Did I do something wrong?” he asked. "No, but why are you asking me this? I thought I was—how do I put it—a necessary pain in the ass. I got you in, have you not drawn your own conclusions? Found ways for Rourke to abuse her power a little longer." He bowed his head and let out a deep breath. "Look, I've heard a lot of things about a lot of different people and so far, I've spent the whole night having to rethink them. Benjamin told me you were a nosey ‘mess with everybody’ witch. But you really know what you're talking about, and well my concept of a werewolf has..." My face softened as the shock moved away from my eyes, and the corners of my mouth returned to a smile. "It's never the same as seeing it with your own eyes and making up your own mind." "I mean I was uncomfortable, but I would be in any stranger's home. It was a little creepy to see them. I mean they were so normal, to the extreme of almost being boring. It was hard to believe they're

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dangerous. So tell me what to do now?" "Ok. You want me to be boss, I can be boss. Give me your notepad." He handed it over with the pen and I took out my phone jotting down a few numbers for him before handing it back. "These are the numbers for the people who deal in human relations for their particular groups. I want you to call them and see if they have any missing members. You'll have to really keep going at the elves, apparently they don't tend to keep track of each other like we do, and especially at the Dark Court, because they don't like dealing with humans at all." "Anything else?" "Check out what Simian said. Call missing persons and see if those four names were reported and when they were reported. If they were all missing before the body was found, then we can rule out the rest of the community and Rourke will have to lift the blockade." He noted it all down and I had the feeling he wasn't doing it for show. He was a serious policeman, he was going to help out in any way he could. I suppose I could have also scared him with the fact that if he showed any prejudice whatsoever, he could be out of a job when the government reviewed police spending at the beginning of next year. "How do I reach you if I need to talk to you?" "My number is on file at PCU but you probably won't need it. I'll be dropping by a little later. I've got a lead to follow and if it pans out, I'll be there to share it with you." "You don't have to. You probably know we won't get results if there's a non-human perpetrator. Why bother?" "Good faith gestures because I'm a nice person." He raised an eyebrow at me. "All right, because if I go all private dick on Rourke, she'll kick my ass back to the Stone Age. I don't want that. I mean, she's a hell of a big woman." LeBron laughed, something deep and genuine. Maybe, just maybe, I'd gotten through to one person on that bigoted squad. It was something to make me hang on to hope for the rest of them. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Sixteen I froze at my door while trying to get the key into the lock, when I heard sounds coming from inside. I'd been surprised when I'd arrived at my apartment building and found no one was there waiting for me. I'd only remembered on the way back to my place, that I hadn't yet called Magnus to tell him what was going on. He was far too insistent on being included to the same degree as Aram. He said he'd be with

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me before I had to be at the coroner's and there was no sign of his car yet. Looked like whatever was in my apartment, it was up to me to deal with it. I kept praying; let it be routine, something stupid like a burglar. I was summoning up the courage to barge into my own apartment and surprise them when the door opened. I did a little stumble backwards, hitting the wobbly railing. It gave a little too much. I thought I was going to go off backwards but an arm grabbed mine tightly, pulling me back. I was pulled so sharply forward that I found myself pressed to his chest—his cool, unmoving chest. I raised my eyes up slowly to the face. "Aram?" He smiled, touching my face with his hand, so softly, so gently that it made me wonder what I'd done to put him in such a good mood. His arms held me and for a minute, it actually didn't feel so bad. I came back to reality then and realised he'd opened my apartment door from the inside. "Aram, how the hell did you get in?" I forced myself free of him and marched past him into my apartment to be confronted by Tarquin, who was sitting on my couch with Nancy happily curled up on his lap, sleeping. "Aram, in my room now." I dropped my bag and marched into my bedroom. I was very cross now. He came in shutting the door behind him. "I never thought to get such an invitation so soon,” he teased. "Shut up! How did you get in here?" "I came in through the balcony,” he said, motioning in the direction of the other side of the room. I looked at the balcony door. The catch was loose and it was ajar. I could swear that when I'd left my apartment before sunset, it was both shut and the catch in place. "What have I told you about letting yourself in? God, Tarquin didn't come in through there too, did he?" I looked around the room. The bed was a mess; my pyjamas were on the floor as was a towel from where I'd had a shower before getting dressed to go out. "Oh course not, pet. Do you think I would ever allow other men into your bedroom? I let them in through the front door." That was all right. I didn't like it when my privacy was violated like this. Aram didn't seem to understand the need for him to keep to my boundaries like everyone else. "And I was so happy because you had referred to yourself as mine, to an underling today.” He gave a playful sigh. “Alas, it was not as true as I wished." Wait a minute. My brain was doing a quick rewind in the conversation. Hadn't he said them , that he had let them in through the front door? Who the hell else was here? It couldn't be another vampire. Aram didn't live here so he didn't have the authority to invite another vampire in. In fact I was pretty sure other

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vampires could not extend invitations to a residence that was owned by a living person whether they lived there themselves or not. I heard the sound of the toilet from the main bathroom flush, the sound rattled through the pipes. I hurried quickly towards the door and slipped out to see who our extra guest was. Another man was sitting on the couch next to Tarquin, he looked at me and smiled politely. He looked exactly like Tarquin except his hair was jet black. The two of them had to be identical twins. I stared at them puzzled for a minute, wondering which one of them was the one who'd changed their hair colour. Aram came out of the bedroom behind me, placing his arm leisurely over my shoulder. "Handsome pair, are they not? This is Vincent. He is Sienna's other. He insisted on coming to take care of his little brother." "Little brother, aren't you twins?” I said, looking between them. "I'm a few minutes older,” Vincent said with a smile. His voice was the slightly deeper tone that had answered the phone this morning, when I'd called Sienna's house to talk to Tarquin. "And you milk it,” said Tarquin. Vincent stood, he was tall, roughly the same height as Tarquin, his jet-black hair running down his face to his shoulders with bangs. He was wearing jeans and a white The Clash t-shirt. He moved slowly around towards me, bent on one knee, and took my hand, placing a light kiss on the knuckles. "I believe you are the lovely lady I spoke to this morning." He looked up at me, his eyes were a deep chestnut colour and they looked into mine, reaching right into the hidden depth of them. Aram coughed. Vincent stood up and took a few steps back from me trying to hide the smile on his face. "I am sorry, sir, I momentarily forgot who she was to you,” said Vincent rather politely, even though there was something in his voice that didn't sound the least bit sorry. I shrugged Aram's arm off my shoulder and walked past Vincent to where I'd dropped my bag. "Aram and I are not involved,” I said definitively. "We are not physical, pet, but I would not say we are not involved,” Aram argued. "We are not involved in the way you seem to think we are, but I'm having you along at the moment because Jareth will call an end to my investigation if you don't." Aram grumbled a little which made me turn around. Vincent took the seat next to his brother and looked like he was making himself very comfortable. "What's the matter?” I asked, not getting why Aram looked so unhappy. Vincent rolled his head back against the top of the sofa and looked at me.

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"I think perhaps you have touched on a sore spot,” he said. “Aram does not seem to appreciate his brother's concern for your welfare." I'd almost forgotten that Jareth had been the one that had carried me to Virginia's, not Aram. Aram, it seemed, had not even got a look in and it bothered him that his brother had played the white knight so readily. It was written all over his body language. "Don't get upset. It's more advantageous for me to be alive than dead to Jareth, which is why he was concerned. He said it himself, he does not like obstinate women." Aram nodded as if he knew what I said was true, but something made him still hesitant. I would let Aram have his own time in his own head. I double-checked everything in my bag. On the way home, I'd stuffed Zoë's toy monkey, Mr Fish ‘n chips inside it so it didn't get lost. I had the sketchpad and a pencil, chalk and basalt to take care of difficult spirits; the last thing I wanted to do was end up possessed by the homicidal one. He did not need another body with which to start attacking people. "If we're all ready, we have an appointment to keep,” I said, ready to get started. Tarquin shifted Nancy off his lap, carefully. She stood, stretched a little before circling around her own body to lie down again. She was back to sleeping in seconds. Tarquin was being amazingly quiet as he stuck close to the side of his brother and as far away from me as he could. I didn't take offence. I was the harbinger of bad news after all. Aram shut the bedroom door and moved towards the front with me. We were all going out the normal way. I pulled the door open to warm breath exhaling in my face. Magnus was bent over, his hands on his knees, struggling to find his breath. Obviously he'd run up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, which made me question how he'd gotten over the gap in the third floor staircase. "Am I late?” He asked, raising his eyes up. He straightened up suddenly, looking behind me. He and Aram shot each other a glance of acknowledgement. Magnus didn't even take in the other two men who were standing behind me before turning his eyes back to mine. "Just in time,” I said. “We're just leaving for the morgue." I stepped out into the corridor and ushered everyone else out of my apartment. I did a quick check around when they were in the corridor and said goodbye to Nancy. She barely acknowledged we were going with a flick of her tail and the opening corner of her eye. I shut the door and locked up, double-checking the handle to make sure no one was getting in this time. The elevator was a little small with all of us inside. I ended up wedged in the middle with the four men around me. I felt a little self-conscious, because more than one pair of eyes was on me as we started to go down. I'd never thought my building had too many floors until that moment. The elevator on this side juddered and shook, making me fall against the bodies around me. Hands touched me from all sides, but it was only Tarquin's that seemed to be pushing me away. One hand slid over my bottom. I looked straight at Vincent who winked at me, the other two wouldn't have dared. He kept a cheeky grin on his face the rest of the way down. Vincent seemed to be far more fond of women than his brother, it made me believe that maybe he was only food for the vampire, whereas his brother was a lover as well. The amount of love I had felt surrounding the watch, proved they were more than just master and donor. The elevator hit the ground floor and I was never happier to be out of it than right then. I was the first to be outside in the night air and all that space. I took in a deep breath and let it out. I could see Magnus's

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car parked slightly down the block next to the curb. I knew right now that even if Magnus offered the use of his car, there would be arguments about who sat where and five of us would be a little cramped. "Come on. It's not that far, we can walk it." I headed down the steps not waiting to see if any of them followed me, but I knew every last one of them would. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Seventeen The city morgue is a cheery little grey brick building, with access from the back for the medical examiners’ vans. Magnus and Aram both agreed to wait outside, they agreed this was a matter for the twins and me to deal with. I had to go, because the coroner would never let these two in to see a body. I walked in front. Tarquin had taken hold of Vincent's hand as we walked down the quiet of the corridors. By now, they were pretty empty because the night staff was a skeleton crew. No one likes to work in town after dark if they didn't have to. The pathologist was in the end office sitting at a computer, contemplating the emptiness of a coffee cup when I knocked on the door. Jumping, he turned his head slowly to me. The doctor was a little man with a bushy little beard; though the hair on top of his head was thinning. His rounded spectacles were sitting on top of his furrowed brow. He looked at me once, then up at them, and then flipped them down looking at me again, this time with a smile. "Can I help you, miss?” he said politely. "Yeah, I called earlier about seeing the PCU body." The Doc jumped up all excited, like someone had mentioned an interest in his latest science project. He seemed giddy while gathering up his notes so they would all fit under the pin of a clipboard. He stopped abruptly and rubbed his hands on his grimy lab coat. "Sorry, I'm being rude. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Doc Cameron.” He offered his hand. "Cassandra Farbanks,” I said, giving it a hearty hand-shake. “And this is Tarquin and Vincent—” I paused. I actually had no idea what their last name was. Neither of them jumped in so I had to recover my sentence quickly on my own. “They lived with the body in question." I didn't want to say deceased because I knew it would upset Tarquin, and the last thing I wanted was to put myself further and further into his bad books. There comes a point when you upset someone so much that you can make an enemy of them, without meaning to. "I'm sorry for your loss,” said Doc Cameron almost instinctually. Of course I doubt he'd ever said it concerning a body that was supposed to be dead in the first place. Vincent gave him a nod in appreciation. Tarquin was staring at the ceiling, taking short breaths. He was obviously trying to hold himself together, and this was going to be a little much for him if we weren't careful.

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"Follow me, this way." Doc Cameron directed us to a door on the other side of his office. I followed through and came out in the main room of a morgue, the one with all the freezer draws where they store people. In the middle of the room was a metallic gurney with a white sheet draped over the body on it. I didn't like this room very much, it was cold and sterile, something about it made it just seemed so final. This is how we end up, I thought. It was a horrible thought that sent a sick wave of cold through my entire body, ending in my stomach. I thought, for a moment, that I was going to lose the contents of it. I'd eaten very little today, so it would hurt like hell. "I got him out, knowing you were coming,” wittered Doc Cameron. “Fascinating, the chance to get up to one this close." He moved around the gurney, placing his clipboard down on the edge of it. Tarquin and Vincent crowded around the end, waiting for the moment I think both of them were dreading. Doc Cameron peeled back the sheet and revealed the same very lovely face I'd seen only the night before. His eyes were closed and he was so very, very pale. Tarquin caught a sob in his throat and turned into his brother. Vincent held him like you hold an upset child—gently, one hand on their head so they could feel the comfort of it brushing through their hair. "He's a fairly old vampire from the style of the clothes he wears, they're all authentic, his fangs are also especially long. It's fascinating,” beamed Doc Cameron. "Doc, I don't mean to sound terribly rude,” I said sharply. “But could you just can it for a minute. A little less enthusiasm would be appreciated." Doc Cameron looked to his right at the two guys and then back to me, like he didn't get it. I scanned the room and noticed two chairs lined up under the office window. "Vincent, take him over there to sit down." He nodded, trying to lead his brother. Tarquin was a little reluctant to leave Sienna's side, but went at the insistence of Vincent, who right then was much stronger than he was. I eye-balled Doc Cameron fiercely. "I understand this must be terribly fascinating for a man of science to meet a creature of legend, but you forget that living or un-dead, this was a person. A person who cared for and was cared for, so I expected a little more tact from someone in your position." "I'm sorry,” he said, wiping away moisture from under his glasses. “I deal with actual people a lot less than you think. I deal with bodies, Miss Farbanks, they don't have a tendency to talk back.” He flicked through his notes, quickly recomposing himself. “Anyway, I've been trying to work out for years what makes vampires tick, but whatever it is that does, doesn't work for this guy anymore, and I can think of no reason why it shouldn't." "Meaning I was right,” I said softly. “He shouldn't be dead." Doc Cameron nodded adjusting his glasses on his face. "I can find no reason why he's not up and walking around like the rest of his kind. His brain and his heart are both still intact and in perfect working order. Now I drew blood..."

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Tarquin let out a scream and tried to pull himself out of his chair. Vincent had to grab him by the waist to stop him from charging towards the Doc and hurting him. "You did what?” yelled Tarquin. I raised my hand telling Doc Cameron not to repeat what he'd said to me. Tarquin turned his angry eyes to me. Let him be mad at me, I could take it. "I told you I didn't want any procedures,” he barked. "And I told you no invasive procedures would be done, and they haven't. I understand that this is hard for you." "How could you understand?” he said cutting me off. That was it. Now he was going to shut up, even if I had to do it for him. "How? Because I couldn't possibly have experienced the loss of a loved one. To know the feeling that there's no one left now, that you feel so on your own. You're lucky you have a brother. He's trying his hardest to put your pain before anything else he feels, and so have I. I've been kind to you up to now, but if you lash out at me one more time, I swear to God I will make you wish you hadn't." I backed my statement up with a little power, let it crawl along his skin and bring his flesh out in goose bumps. He shuddered and moved back to his seat. I turned back to Doc Cameron. "Why did you take blood from him?" "Well, until I examined the mouth, I was completely buying the fact that you told me he was Jewish,” he admitted, sounding a little cross. I looked up and down the body before me. There wasn't a single part of him that looked Jewish and what kind of name was Sienna, certainly not Jewish. The fact that he had believed me meant he had to be a really dumb, smart person. "Did you find anything?” I asked. "Quite a lot.” His gaze narrowed under the constant force of mine. “But nothing relevant to why the body is like this." "It's got no soul, Doc. That's why it's not moving. It's mystical, not medical." He looked at me a little like I was blaspheming. There had to be some scientific way for him to look at it, there had to be something there he could figure out or it would take all the fun out of it for him. He grumbled and flipped through his notes. "What should I do with the body?” he asked. "Bear with me and I'll find out." I gladly parted with the doc for a few minutes. I was seriously considering just telling him to go to Dante's or better yet, he could come outside and meet Aram. I walked over to Tarquin, who after my

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little display of temper, had calmed down. "Is there some way to keep his body from deteriorating?” I asked. He had to know, because you didn't hang out with vampires and not pick these things up. “Fresh blood daily, but he can't drink." I scratched my head. “Can't you feed him, slice a wound and drip it in through his mouth." I'd seen it done in a movie, it had worked then but the advantage of that was, it was a work of fiction. Therefore, it was bound to work if it's what the writer wanted. "It's crass, it might work but it will not wake him up,” said Tarquin, unable to keep the sadness from his voice. "If you can keep him alive, leave finding out what has happened to his soul up to me." I turned to go back to the doc when a hand clamped around my arm. Tarquin had grabbed me, but it wasn't menacing. "Can you really bring him back?” he asked. "I will do all I can for him." I touched his hand softly with mine and for once, he didn't pull away from me. He took what I had to offer, a little comfort. "We need to take him someplace safe while it's still dark. I think five of us would be able to carry him to Dante's." "Can't we take him home?” asked Tarquin. "It may not be safe. What happens if whoever did this decides to come back? Dante's is more secure, it's got to be why nobody disappeared from there. Trust me." Tarquin nodded, he was most agreeable and it puzzled me. I moved back towards the doc but didn't get far. Vincent cut me off but kept his voice low and quiet. “Can you really do something like this?" "I don't know until I try. I'm right about Dante's though." Vincent nodded and I knew he didn't disagree with me. "I just don't want him to build his hopes up. He knows you're right about Dante's, he'll do as you say." "It's a new development but one I could get used to,” I said, trying not to give too much of a smile. "He responds to power, it makes him behave.” He smiled at me. "And for you?” I said, eyebrow raised.

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"It makes me want to misbehave." Vincent gave me a cheeky smile and went back to his brother. Making the plan and getting Tarquin to go along with it, was a lot easier then convincing the doc to part with the body. Vampires fascinated him. He wanted to know the ins and outs of their surviving on blood alone. He wanted an interview with one. In the end, I had to promise him his interview to get the body released to our care. He disappeared with Tarquin to get the personal affects, while quizzing him on what it was like to be fed off. Next came the hard part—how to get him to Dante's without looking suspicious or at least not getting weird stares. I thought about calling a Vodoun raiser but the nearest one was nowhere near local. Tarquin wouldn't have gone for the puppet theatre of it, and carrying him through the streets in a body bag would be just as bad. I found myself standing there, looking down at him while I thought. His body was slim and elegant like that of a dancer. His cheekbones were high, giving him an almost extremely feminine look, but the flat pale hardness of his chest screamed out his masculinity. Maybe he was secretly a female vampire in a male vampire's body. I laughed at the thought. Trailing my fingers along the cloth, I found the pale flesh of his hand, he was colder than cold. Vampires, when walking about, were usually at least room temperature before taking blood. With blood, they could be as warm as a human. I found myself wishing he could get up and walk himself to Dante's. My fingers touched his pulse and a strange tingle ran through me. I screamed when his fingers wrapped around my wrist. The eyes snapped open and stared at me, helplessly. His mouth tried to say something, but it was so dry, all I could hear was myself screaming. I pulled my arm out of his grip and stumbled back into Vincent, who watched as I did as his master's body went dead again. I felt myself press against him for comfort, I'd forgotten he was still in the room now I was beginning to feel embarrassed and I was trying to find my breath. "What the hell just happened?” he asked, his voice demanding answers. I took a deep breath trying to force my heart out of my throat. "Don't ask me. I thought he was ... you know ... at least for the minute." "Can you do it again?" I looked up into his face to see if he was joking. I cursed, why are they always so serious. He was crazy if he thought I was going to touch him again. My arm was already throbbing and would probably turn a nice shade of purple by the end of the evening; vampires had a hell of a grip. "No way in hell,” I snapped. Vincent looked down at me with those big soulful eyes and I felt like I'd just kicked a puppy. "Please try. If he can't come back from this, you have no idea what it will do to Tarquin." I actually had a pretty good idea what losing him would do to Tarquin. I didn't want to see it happen so I

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agreed to give it another go, whatever it was I'd done in the first place. I moved back over to the side of the body. I couldn't raise the dead, it wasn't in my power. Virginia told me my power was about warmth and life, you had to have coldness in you to have a power that could reach the dead. My hand hesitated just over the pulse of his wrist. I was afraid to touch him, afraid to feel that strange tingle, to have those eyes stare at me. Vincent nudged me, Tarquin was coming back with the doc. I grabbed Sienna's wrist hard but nothing happened. I fell back against Vincent again and sighed with relief, but I wasn't sure why I was relieved. Wasn't I supposed to be trying to get him back? Tarquin came in carrying Sienna's clothes. He put them down on a small silver gurney and pulled it over to the table. "If you wouldn't mind untangling yourself from his arms, Vincent and I will dress Sienna and get him to Dante's. You've got other things to be doing, haven't you?" I quickly pulled myself away from Vincent, who shot his brother a smile as I got more than a little embarrassed. Tarquin was feeling better though because once again, however slowly, his attitude was coming back. "Yes I do, I'll see you both later." Tarquin was right, I did have work to do. I had to do as much as I could during dark hours, because in the morning, I'd lose Aram's added protection and that was starting to worry me. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eighteen Bell Square, the middle part of Crowngate, was still decorated by streams of police tape. It was all over the walls and the brand new doorway PCU had cut to get inside. I stood there looking at it, wondering whether it would be easier trying to squeeze through the gaps or just tear it all down. Magnus and Aram were by my side, for once staring at each other with something that looked nothing vaguely like contempt. "We're not going in there?” asked Magnus, peering into the dark. I started taking huge fistfuls of the tape in my hand and pulling. “You can stay outside if you want, Magnus." "It's haunted in there,” he said, as if he was some sort of small child. "I know, it's why I want to go in. Sienna was found here. I think if I ask them they'll tell me who put him here." Aram came around behind me. He took hold of the tape, pulling it away because I struggled with it and the entrance was cleared.

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"Is it wise, pet? To rile up spirits with such a violent history?” he asked. "Only one of them is violent and I'll be damned if I let it within an inch of me. It'll be fine." I reached into my bag. Pulling out a torch, I shone it into the darkness inside. I wasn't going to waste power turning the electricity back on again. I needed my strength, because what I was trying to do was not an easy spell. I'd known cases where the witch had ended up with something or someone stuck inside them, permanently possessed—then it was time to call the priests. It didn't always get a happy ending either. Two words, Emily Rose. I've never seen a good possession. Two entities can't really exist in the same body, as one will force the other into submission or out all together. It's silly for an invading essence to force out or consume the original, because the soul and the body are linked. They know each other, destroy one and the other gets a seriously shortened shelf life. I'd heard of a body lasting about a month with the invading essence in it. The body gives in and the invader has nowhere to go but back to where it came from. I've also heard it said, that when you have that sudden really hard sneeze, it's your body rejecting an invading essence. It enters looking for some place to roost but your guard was too tight, your own essence too strong. Weaker people are easier to control, easier to take hold of. Ill, depressed, unhappy people who have no strength to keep them out, often even invite them in. That's what the spell I had to do was all about. It was an invitation to these spirits to take a body—in this case poor Mr Fish ‘n Chips, Zoë's toy. I was hoping because it was one of the toys with a voice box that lets it talk, I could give the ghost a voice without having to let it inside me. I got seriously creeped out when someone else was inside my head like that. Magnus swore as he stubbed his foot. I turned the flash light back towards the entrance to see them both following after me. Magnus was bumbling but Aram glided in his normal effortless manner. "I thought you were going to wait outside." "And leave you on your own? Not a chance,” said Magnus. "He's right. There are two other ways to gain entrance here, so we would be fools to think you are safe,” added Aram. I smirked and fiddled with the clip of my bag while balancing the flashlight in my mouth. I pulled out a bag of small candles I'd stuffed in there earlier. "I'm going to need a little light, do you think you could put these candles about?" "I can't see a thing,” came Magnus's voice in the darkness. "I was talking to Aram because he has very good night vision. You can see me, right?" He was suddenly very close. "Perfectly..." His voice came as an intimate whisper in the dark. I felt a shiver crawl down my spine, one vertebra at a time.

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"It's almost like we're alone." "Hey!" Magnus stumbled and swore again, with an elfish curse. Aram sighed, taking the candles and I knew he was placing them on the floor. I breathed out a deep breath, felt my fingers twitch at my sides and brought flame to the candles, and the whole place became a dim glow. It didn't take a lot to do because for some reason, fire magic came easier to me than any other. Virginia claimed all witches had one elemental magic they were better with, but fire was rarely the one. I smiled. I was just that little bit special. I liked that. Aram almost dropped the last candle as it flared to life in his hand. I tried very little to hide my laughter. "Do not laugh, my sweet, you may get stuck that way." I shook off my grin to find a still wry smile underneath, but it was time to get to work. I set myself up cross-legged on the floor, getting myself comfortable was the main thing. I had no idea how long this would take. You can sit cross-legged for hours, but only if you do it right. Virginia had taught me vocal and incantation magic to accommodate my power. A lot of witches and wizards are restrained by spell and alchemy magic—to see, make, and control a process. With vocal magic, your power had to be mainly natural ability. You tell the power what you want and it's by the sheer force of your will that makes it respond and do it. Sometimes with simple magic, I didn't even need to use the words—fire magic mainly of course. It had impressed Virginia, who'd taken well into her fifties to learn how, when I could light a room full of candles without a word or pointing them out. I say ‘impressed,’ because I like to think it was that and not shock. Because with Virginia, the two looks are almost identical. The séance chant, was one that could only be used to talk to spirits that hadn't moved on. Virginia had explained that to me after I'd already tried to use it to talk to my mother. I had been new at everything and I'd desperately wanted more of an explanation than she'd left me with. I think there was pretty much anything I'd have given for an hour with my mum. The only problem with a wish like that is if you get it, when it's up, you want more. You want them back permanently, and that goes so deeply into the realms of black magic as you can get. Raising the dead was a big no-no for this good little witch. Talking to their spirits wasn't anywhere near as bad. I pulled Mr Fish ‘n Chips out of my bag and set him down in front of me. He was enough of a distance away that my arms could reach him, but his little stuffed toy arms couldn't get to me. If by any amount of bad luck I got the violent one, it wouldn't be able to attack me. Not that a stuffed toy could do much damage, but it was a little disconcerting. I made a half circle of salt around the back of it. I couldn't complete the circle until I was sure the spirit was in the toy, and then it was just an added safety precaution. Circles of salt protected you from some things and equally, could be used to trap things. Once the toy was possessed, it wouldn't be able to leave the circle. The thing with possessing inanimate objects like dolls or stuffed animals, was you could stay in them as long as you liked. It was nothing like being inside a human. You were far more limited, only being able to do what the toy could do. You had to learn a new way of moving for a start. I'd once seen a possessed Barbie at the Magic College open day and it had freaked me out a little. Made me believe the horror story about the clown doll, could have a place in fact somewhere. "Can I ask what the monkey is for?” asked Magnus, as he settled down onto his knees on a clear patch

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of floor to watch. Aram ever so gracefully was leaning against the wall behind him. "You might want to sit down, Aram, we could be here a little while." He looked around him searchingly. "There is no chair,” he said, completely serious. I rolled my eyes. Aram was obviously above sitting on the floor like the rest of us. It wasn't exactly like it was dirty or anything and I doubt he'd notice the cold of it. Magnus made a little cough and I realised I'd almost completely ignored him and not answered his question. "Right, the monkey, yeah, he's going to be my little host for whatever spirit I can wrangle." "Into the monkey?” He waved his fingers at the monkey as if simulating the movement of some sort of spirit. "Yeah. It has to go somewhere and I didn't think either of you would have volunteered." Magnus gave a weak, ‘yeah you're right nod,’ he didn't like the thought of something crawling around inside him. He visibly shuddered, which God help me, I thought was just a little cute. I motioned for him to stay back. The last thing I needed was for the spirit to try and go into him, he was fleshy and alive, very appealing. I closed my eyes and put ground mint leaf on my tongue. Mint has the effect of sending a short, sharp, somewhat refreshing shock to the senses, my eyes were opened and I could see them there waiting for me. "Anubis! Guardian of the dead. He who walks silent through the shadows of life and death, and weighs the hearts of these souls against the feather of truth. Oh patron of lost souls, I call thee to guide a soul to me. I seek the truth." The air above me crackled, the space twisting and turning, making a hole that spat forth a bright flash. I used my power like a mirror, reflecting it into the small fuzzy monkey and quickly sealed the salt circle. The eyes gave off a shimmer; although they were plastic, it was unmistakable—a shimmer of life. I'd done it. I felt like giving a maniacal mad scientist cackle, but I restrained myself. I was after all in front of polite company. Slowly the being became aware of its form, the arms moved tentatively, the hands turning from front to back in its examination. I wasn't sure how toy possessions fully worked, mainly it was the seeing that bothered me. There were no eyes, no optical nerves and no brain to process the signals. It was like the essence, which could see and hear and feel, was jammed inside and it looked out through the thin plastic balls at you. It tried to stand and fell. Not because it wasn't capable of both standing and probably walking but the balance required to do so was something that it would have to learn. Given that I wasn't going to give it the time, it sat down and strangely looked more comfortable. It barked its voice box at me. “I'm just crazy about bananas." I stared at it and it stared at me, obviously it didn't recognise the voice or it wasn't what it had attempted to say. Surprised, it chirped on. I clocked an amount of three different sentences it could muster. It got

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frustrated after a little while as it began banging its fuzzy little hands up and down. It was Magnus who laughed, even though I could feel one in the back of my mouth. The monkey turned to him and gave a rather loud shout of “I'm crazy about bananas.” It raised its hand, only to find that its fingers were sewn together. I think, however, we both grasped what Mr Fish ‘n Chips had been trying to say. I reached over into the salt circle and turned its head to look at me and it did. It stared at me with a power in its eyes I'd not seen before. "I know you're confused but I need your help. Something happened here and you spirits are my only witnesses." It looked at me, pressed its hands together as if it meant to clasp them together and placed them on top of the large leather belly that the white T-shirt rode high over. "Do you understand?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." I gave a little nod. "We'll use that as a yes. ‘I'm a tree top swinger’ as no and ‘it's all monkey business’ as an I don't know." "That will limit the questions you can ask, won't it, Andra?” asked Aram. I turned my head gently so I could look at him. I'd not caught his reaction to the little spell yet. The monkey mimicked me. I caught a glimpse of its head turning out of the corner of my eye. It was interested in knowing who else was here with me. "Indeed, but I can still do my best, even limited to questions that require a yes or no answer." The monkey and I turned our heads back to each other in an eerie unison. I picked up the sketchbook; in the absence of a notepad, it would do just as well for writing the answers down on. I flipped open the first page taking the pencil in my hand. "Let's get the hard stuff out of the way, your name, I'll go through the alphabet, you say yes when you hear the letter it begins with." I circled through the alphabet very slowly, his voice box chirped to life on the letter J. "Begins with a J,” I muttered thinking up a list of names “Jack, James, Jamie, Jo, Joseph, John..." The monkey squawked an almost excited ‘I'm just crazy about bananas’ after John. "John?" He confirmed it. "Okay, John, for your second name—same principle." I trailed through the alphabet again, and ended up with John Shaw, thirty-two, written down as my first line.

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"Well, John Shaw, it's a pleasure to meet you." The monkey gave me an almost grin; there was the definite signs of an attempt. I guess it really didn't hurt to be nice and polite on the road to getting what I wanted. It was like those people who stop you in the street to do surveys, only not as annoying. I pushed up my sleeves as a sign of getting serious which I regretted the minute I'd done it because the wind blew right through me, the bitter cold making my flesh ripple. Magnus felt it too—the same chill, as if Anubis himself was telling us our time was limited. It rolled up his spine making his shoulders shake. Aram remained as he was, he never did feel the cold. I got to work. "Last night did you see the body?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." "Did you know it was a vampire?" "I'm a tree top swinger." Aram looked at me as if questioning the relevance. This was my interrogation, I would ask what I liked. "Was he alive when he got here?" "I'm a tree top swinger." "Did you see what happened before the police got here?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." That was good. I'd hate to keep on asking questions if the theory I was running this on was completely wrong. "Did you see how he got here?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." "Was he carried?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." My theory about it being a body dump was gaining some actual support. I knew the first time I'd seen him he wasn't alive, well as not as alive as a vampire gets. There was no way he'd gotten here under his own power. "By one person?" "I'm a tree top swinger." More than one was good.

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"Two?" "I'm a tree top swinger." "Three?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." Three was even better; there had been three people involved in Bethany's kidnapping, well two people and one hand. "Was it two men and a woman?" Where had that come from? I had no clue about who was actually involved in it, there were definitely two men but that hand—there was something decidedly delicate about it. "I'm a tree top swinger." I felt a little crest fallen I had really been hoping for a positive answer. "Three men?" "I'm a tree top swinger." Now I was a little puzzled. Was he trying to tell me that there were no men involved? Three women combined would still have had trouble moving the body. Dead bodies are nothing but dead weight. Perhaps he was trying to tell me something else, because the two forms wrestling to subdue Bethany had been big enough to be men but it didn't necessarily mean they were. It also didn't even mean they'd been human. "Okay, how about one woman and two things?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." Bingo. Yatzi. There was a woman involved. The feminine contours of the hand, the hand I may have only seen twice, had been unmistakeable. It had stuck in my mind, invaded my dreams, and I knew it was a woman's. Hard to believe that a woman could be behind all this, a little gender stereotypical of me but it was usually men that went in for death like this. "The woman, was she tall?" "It's all monkey business." I put the sketchbook down careful not to dislodge the salt and stood up, the monkey looked up at me. "Taller than me?" "I'm a tree top swinger." "So shorter than me. How about here?” I put my hand against the edge of my shoulder.

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"I'm just crazy about bananas." That put the woman somewhere between five three and five six, a small, petite woman scared me less. But the fact that she commanded such power was still enough to make me very cautious. I sat back down and made a note of her height. "Was she thin?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." "Thinner than me?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." "So she was skinny?" "I'm just crazy about bananas." I stopped for a moment and looked up at the ceiling, trying to do a full description like this was going to take half the night. I didn't have that kind of time, I wanted to move on this quickly. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but it had been my own fault. I'd assumed that a new possessing entity would have been able to use the electronic voice box to talk like a person. But like balance, it would have to be learnt and learning also took time. I was sure as hell hoping I wasn't going to end up regretting what I was going to do. "Cassandra, what's wrong?” asked Magnus, in a response to my continuing silence. I looked at Magnus who had moved a little bit closer; his hand was outstretched like he'd been prepared to shake me awake. "I was really hoping I wasn't going to have to do this.” I put the pad in my lap, rested the pencil on top and wiped my fingers through the salt, breaking the circle. “Hop aboard." The monkey and Magnus both looked at me like I was joking. "I mean it. Come on, before I change my mind." "Cassandra you can't let that thing ride around inside you,” said Magnus with aversion. "Don't worry. I'm stronger than him and we both know it, but I need to see what he did to get what we need to help solve this. You might want to move back." Magnus scooted back, resigned to let me do what I wanted as I reached out to the possessed monkey. It gazed at me cautiously before it placed its stuffed hand in mine and moved to make the transfer. Its head dropped, sensation shot up my arm, and I fell backwards. I could feel the other thing inside of me. I sat up and I could see the sketchpad but it was like I was in the back of a dark room, trying to look out a window that was on the other side and someone else was standing in front of it looking out. I was in my own mind looking at this man. It was he who took up the sketchpad and pencil. He called up the memory, or whatever you can call what a ghost sees. The sense of what had happened floated heavy and thick, so real in the space between us, I felt like I was more than just my thoughts. It was as if

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I had another body in here—a smaller version of myself that allowed me to move around it, peer into its memory. John had been right. They weren't men, they were things. Creatures I'd never seen before, as I struggled to find the words I wanted to describe them. They had large forearms, a heavy weight of muscle around their wrists. So heavy, their arms fell down at their sides, knuckles almost scraping the ground. The arms were hairy, dark coarse hair covering an almost orangey skin like bad fake tan. No wonder the living witness had thought they'd seen a werewolf. They weren't fat, so much as big, imposing—like a sumo wrestler where it's their muscle that makes them bulky. They seemed like they were composed solely of a million different types of muscle, all crammed under a skin that barely seemed to fit. Their spines poked up through their backs almost like a razor-backed pig, dark—as if their bones were the same colour as the hair on their arms. They had to be strong but their expressions were slack, almost angry, but denoting a lack of intelligence, or a will to think on their own. Their eyes were black and shiny like dark pearls and tusk-like fangs erupted from their bottom lips, which were thick and stained with a viscous-like drool. They were lackeys; they had to be taking orders from someone else. Then I caught sight of the woman. She was petite in every sense of the word, with fine, shoulder-length hair. She wore a reddy brown skirt suit that made her look a bit like an estate agent. I was pretty sure, though, that I didn't want her selling me a house. Even in here though, her image was distorted as if something was doing its best to keep her hidden from view. The memory moved. I was suddenly closer to the woman's face. I could feel my hands sketching—the eyes, the lines of her cheekbones, the distinct lilt of her nose. She seemed pretty but not in a suspicious way, not a flashy ‘I can and will use my looks to get what I want’ way. She was the kind of woman that passes you on the street, one you notice but don't quite give a second look. The only thing about her that was different was her eyes—her eyes were strange. I couldn't figure out quite what about them was strange, but there was something off. John turned around and I was pulled away from the memory to him. He wasn't what you'd expect from a ghost, he wasn't pale blue and see through. He wasn't white like Casper or particularly friendly looking, he was just a person. In full living colour so to speak—his hair was stuck to his face by sweat, his black trousers were darker down one leg as if they were drenched by liquid. He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned to the point it met the V-neck of the chequered jumper he had on. It was pale brown, yellow and pink, except on the one side where he'd been shot. A patch of dark red had seeped into the jumpers left side where he'd bled a lot. I was guessing the blood was the liquid that had drenched his trouser leg, making it sticky, dark and heavy. The sleeve of his jumper, the cuff of his shirt and his hand, were stained with dark patches of drying blood, from where he'd been smart enough to try to stop the bleeding. Exsanguinations hadn't killed him; the sweat on his forehead from the fever of an infection had taken him. With no help able to arrive, those who could have survived, didn't. Ghosts aren't as we wish to imagine them. They are trapped in the moment of their death, the state of their death for as long as they roam the earth, not able to find peace. I felt sorry for him trapped in this place as he was, trapped with and by the man who had killed him and all his other victims, for an eternity. He spoke as if he knew what I was feeling. "Do not feel sorry for me. I led a good life,” he said. His voice was deep and hoarse, how difficult it must have been for him to force words from a dead dry throat. "I can't help it, no one should die like that." "No one should have their life taken away by someone else, so I help; but I will help no more."

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He started to pull away, either he was pulling away or my body had had enough of this foreign intruder. I felt my body stumble to its feet, spilling the sketchpad to the floor and crushing the pencil under heel. It wasn't so much a fight inside me but a wriggling twitching sensation like something was trying to crawl out. "I will help no more.” His last words were moving my mouth, it was my voice echoing in my ears but not me who was trying to speak. “Even after death there are things to fear. We will be silent or we too will be collected for the Soul Market." And with that, I sneezed. I sneezed so hard I fell over backwards. I hit the floor with a nasty bump, that rocked my spine with pain like I'd broken something. I raised my eyes to where a ball-like light hovered, surrounded by smaller flecks, all a wonderful natural and ethereal green glow. It shimmered in one great wave, like a wink, that ran across the surface of the centre of it. It was then squeezed back into the small sub layer of reality in which ghosts lived, unseen by the naked eye. I gave a quick thank you to Anubis. When calling on Gods for their help, whether you truly believe they exist or whether it was only pretty words to guide your power, it was best not to offend by forgetting your manners. I took a deep breath, wiped my nose with the back of my thumb and crawled back to my sketchpad, too tired to be dignified and stand. Magnus was settling back on his heels. Like he'd once again rushed to be of help to me when I started to move about in a way he didn't like. Aram stayed leant against the wall, smug that he'd been around me long enough to know I didn't require help. I looked at the face of the woman on the page, then flicking back through my notes to find a half page sketch of one of the monsters. He'd used the pencil in my hand and my tiny miniscule bit of talent, to give me what were going to be my biggest clues. I turned my head to look at Magnus, the concern had not left his eyes but they were calming down, a little less wide. "I'm all right. Don't worry,” I said to reassure him. "That was weird. You had a conversation where you were both parts and what is the Soul Market?" I looked at the pad under my notes where it was written in big decorative script so that it stood out to me. "That's what we've got to find out." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Nineteen As I'd promised LeBron, I took my findings straight into PCU. Not for any particular desire to co-operate but they had access to stuff I didn't—a computer database for example. My only problem with going to PCU was the two men I had in tow. One a vampire and the one half-elf. If there was any way to stir up a room full of preternatural police, it was to bring one of the monsters into their world. Not that Aram or Magnus, by any of my standards, were particularly monster-ish. Magnus might be all right, he'd been with me when Ben had been lurking, he'd just noticed his slight elfishness. Magnus could pull off surfer with a tan very well, the only real difficulty was going to be Aram. Everything about him screamed vampire and he refused to wait outside. There was nothing I could do, it was after

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all a public building, no invitation required. It's not like you could chuck a blanket over him and pretend he wasn't there. The PCU room wasn't very big. It had about five or six desks slung about, some filing cabinets and a coffee pot in the corner. At the back, there were two separated rooms, one that had been converted for interrogation and the other one, an office that belonged to Rourke. The door to it was closed and the blinds shut. I sent a small God send, as the whole room silenced when we entered. Nothing like a vampire on your heels to make people go quietly numb. I looked back at Aram who was pretending not to have noticed. I felt a grip on my arm, as LeBron, the only one in the room who had moved, pulled me to one side. "What the hell are you doing bringing one of those in here?" I looked at Aram who'd heard it too and back to LeBron. "I don't exactly bring him anywhere, he sort of’ follows me, like a puppy with fangs." Aram gave a low chuckle and leant against a desk where a pretty young female officer sat. "I will get in no one's way, I promise,” he said, and smiled at the officer, who blushed. The room came alive with noise again. The people were still looking at him but they were getting on with their work. LeBron's grip on my arm lessened and I gave him a little smile of appreciation. I didn't like to be manhandled. I turned a little more towards him and patted the bag hanging at my side. "I've got a little something for you." He cocked his eyebrow at me. I slowly realised how that must have sounded, I felt my cheeks heat up a little bit. "We need a computer with a scanner,” I stammered quickly, trying to recover the tone and make this seem more like business. "On my desk, over here.” He let go of me as I pulled away. His desk was slightly smaller looking than all the others were, mainly because it was jammed full of paper work. It looked as if they were really hazing him, by dumping everyone's reports on him. It wouldn't make it any easier on him to be so accommodating to me. I turned my head back over my shoulder. "You boys be good,” I warned. Magnus motioned to follow me but I shook my head. He stopped dead and plonked himself down in an empty chair on the other side of one of the desks. Aram was striking up a conversation with the pretty police officer. She was leaning forward, her breasts supported by her arms, her neck in a long straight line, and her hair in a perfectly done little bun. Her body language screamed that she was into him. I chuckled. She could flutter her little eyelashes all she liked. Aram would never really be interested in her for more than a little drop of blood. I marched after LeBron. I wasn't jealous or anything; I just didn't like women like her, so flirtatious they couldn't see what was really going on. I took a seat on the corner of the desk, keeping my eye on Aram while LeBron made a hurried effort to clear his desk to make some

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semblance of order take hold. I unclipped the bag, pulling out the sketchbook slowly, my eyes constantly scanning the room. If there was going to be any trouble, I had to be a step ahead of it. It paid to be paranoid right at this moment. I absent mindedly handed him the sketch book without an explanation or glance, of all the things I had to monitor, I felt LeBron wasn't one of them or at least that he was harmless. He flicked open the cover and read through my notes. "You held an interrogation without a member of the unit present?” he questioned. I turned my head toward him, barely registering that his tone was slightly more serious than it had been. He hooked me with his gaze; he knew how to keep a person's attention. "You did, didn't you? I knew I should have come along when you said you had a lead. I just assumed it was more spooky stuff." I gave a weak little half-amused smile. "It was more ‘spooky stuff.’” I made little quotation marks with my fingers to illuminate that it was not an actual term. I heard a laugh, turned my head back to where the officer was flirting with Aram. I felt a deep satisfaction when she went to flick her hair to find that it wasn't down. She looked a little puzzled, then quickly covered it with a smile. That's right your hair is up, because you're supposed to be at work, dopey cow. "It says right here, John Shaw. You found another witness,” said LeBron, jabbing his finger down on the page. "I did but you wouldn't have been able to talk to him." "Why not?" My attention was back on him now, full force. "John Shaw died in the 1959 Bell Square massacre. He's one of the souls trapped there by the negative energy of the gunman." LeBron sort of gaped at me open mouthed, looking a bit like a startled fish. I suppose I did say these things so plainly, so matter of fact, that he found it a little hard to take in. Poor love. But I couldn't help that I didn't dress these things up, to me they were fancy enough on their own. "How can you trust a—” He lowered his voice so that it was almost intimate. “A dead person." "What have they got to lie for? They're already dead. They've got nothing to gain." He scratched his head and I knew I was going to have to explain ghosts to him as well. They should make a textbook for units like this all across the country. Damn it, I'd help write the thing if it'd stop me from having to turn into the storybook lady. I didn't like explaining things, it made me sound like a know-it-all and nobody likes one of those. "Imagine that within our world, there are other worlds—sub-planes of existence that co-exist inside this

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one." He nodded, showing he was following me so far. I moved an empty, stained coffee mug into the cleared space on his desk, took one page of a very neatly typed report, and a pen. "Say this coffee cup is your average human being in our world, the paper is a barrier between these smaller worlds and the pen is a ghost." I held the piece of paper between the two. "Now you can just about see the pen but, as an average person, it's just easier for your brain to not see, or think you imagined it. Ghosts, however, can see what we do on this side all the time. Certain people and with certain rituals, you can either—” I moved the paper so the bottom of the pen showed. “—see into that world a little or—” I moved the piece of paper out of the way and jiggled the pen over to meet the mug, then slammed the piece of paper down between them again. “Get it?" He nodded slowly, not that he looked like he liked it much. I could tell what I was telling him was being filed under W for weird in that part of his brain that says ‘yes we need to know this, but we don't have to quite believe it.’ He moved on down the page to the rest of my notes. "He says,” he mentioned, scepticism in his voice. “That there were two monsters—neither was a werewolf—and a woman." I motioned for him to flick over the page; he did and stared wordlessly at the picture of the woman's face. "Talented, your ghost." "No, I did that. Well, my hands, at least. Possession, it's complicated so let's not get into it." "Strangely, I'm inclined to agree. So what am I doing here?" I rolled my eyes; I was asking myself that very same question. "Scan it in and check it against missing persons or something." "Right, I knew that." I shook my head in disbelief, what was going on with our police force that they needed a civilian to tell them what to do. Real cops were nothing like the ones in the movies, the ones in the movies had a script to guide them along. What did this poor schmuck have—me. I suppose it was better than nothing. He found his scanner under a pile of witness statements and a book on werewolves that he'd obviously checked out from the public library before our earlier meeting. "This is going to take a while,” he said, setting the computer up to do a data base search. "Great. How about you fill me in on the other things I asked you to do?" He smiled while reaching down to his desk drawer, a notepad lay inside and he'd sectioned off a thick chunk of scrawled notes. He'd obviously done a lot of work and was proud of it. I felt like patting him on the head and offering him a cookie. Not that I'm in the least bit patronising or anything. Positive

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re-enforcement was good in a working relationship. "I emailed missing persons when I got back. All the names on the list were reported missing, they'd begun to vanish from the beginning of the month up to the last one which was a week ago." "That's our second bit of proof that the werewolves weren't involved,” I said triumphantly. "I'm glad you're happy about it. Rourke blew a gasket because she has to take down the blockade. She's upstairs right, now explaining herself to the big wigs." "I've told her not to be so rash. The mayor's not going to be happy about this. If the community now decides to kick up a fuss, he's toast, because every adult in the commune is a registered voter. Elections are just before Christmas too." He nodded his head like he understood anything about politics. Even I only had a vague grasp of the concept. "I called all the numbers you gave me. The dwarves aren't missing anyone. The Light Court representative said he'd get back to me, and the Dark Court hung up the minute I said I was police." Dark Court didn't particularly care for humans and they spent their lives avoiding us. We were beneath them and they weren't shy about telling you about it. The only reason they had a citadel here was because the Light Court did, and they had to have had some sneaky, maniacal reason of course when it's more likely they built here because they liked the view. Light Court elves didn't plot and scheme, they did however, often keep stum about what they did or did not know. "Oh hell, no." I didn't need to turn around to know who'd walked in and what their problem was. "Trouble, trouble, trouble,” I said, rolling my eyes at LeBron. “Call the Light Court again and don't hang up not until they give you an answer this time." I jumped off the edge of the desk, leaving my shoulder bag behind and went to deal with the arising scene. Benjamin was eyeballing Aram something fierce. The young female officer had fled away from her DS and I couldn't blame her. "What the hell is this thing doing in my building?” griped Benjamin. "Relax, Ben, he's with me." Benjamin did anything but relax as he craned his neck in my direction. His face had turned a stuffy shade of puce, showing his blood was boiling. "You can't bring your monsters in here, Farbanks. I won't have it." "It is a public building, friend,” commented Aram, with more than a little bit of a pleased smile of his face. Benjamin turned back to him, his finger out like he was going to poke him in the chest. “I don't like your kind,” he stated plainly.

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"I wouldn't mess with him, Ben, he bites,” I warned. Aram clucked his tongue and gnashed his fangs, making Benjamin stumble backwards to fall against another desk. There was laughter in the room, most of all mine. Benjamin glared at everyone until they went silent. "You'll regret that, monster, and you too, Wicked Witch of the West,” he said, turning his attention back to me. "Ben, for the love of God, take a deep breath before I'm able to boil an egg on your forehead." LeBron was suddenly at my side, he touched the crook of my elbow. "Light Court guy said a couple of their people are unaccounted for, but they're not worried,” LeBron informed me. Benjamin zeroed in on him because he was being helpful. “You little weasel, stop kissing up to her,” snapped Benjamin. LeBron froze. I knew he wanted to say something but he also knew there was no way he could get away with it. So, in the end, it was me who answered. "Leave him alone, at least one of you knows how to do their job properly." Benjamin took a stride towards me. "If you've seduced one of my men into being some monster hugging freak...” he seethed. "Get fucked, Ben." "What an ironic thing for Frosty the Snow Bitch to say." I took a deep breath but it did little to sooth the anger rising inside of me. One more word and we'd really see if I could turn him into a frog. I started to move away. "If you weren't such a freak, Farbanks, you'd be the best piece of ass I ever had,” he added leeringly. "Oh, that's it!” I said, as the last straw broke the camel's back. I turned and raised my hand at my side, the chair near me shook as it began to leave the ground. Magnus moved to stop me. I swear to God I would have thrown it at him, if Rourke hadn't busted in just then. "Hodgson, Farbanks, enough! I will not have a fight in my bloody squad room. Hodgson, piss off to your desk and shut up.” She spied Aram and Magnus. “Farbanks, my office." Rourke stormed past me into her office. I looked at Aram as if to tell him to look at what he'd done now, he shrugged and smiled pleasantly. I must not have been moving quickly enough for Rourke because she bellowed my name. I moved into the office past Rourke, who slammed the door shut so hard the blinds shook. Her office was quaint, barely furnished, and the lampshade overhead was a dusky bottle green glass. I half expected to look down and suddenly find we were in black and white movie. Rourke pointed to a beaten-to-bits

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chair that sat in front of her desk and I felt suddenly inclined to sit. It was like being in trouble at school and being made to go to the headmaster. Rourke sat down at the desk, plonked her gun on the table, and stared at me. I expected her to start tutting or, knowing Rourke, screaming at me until she was blue in the face. I tried to relax but couldn't. I was just as much an adult as she was, so why did I suddenly feel like a child? "We'll get to what the hell you think you're doing bringing a vampire in here but first, I've just lost an argument to keep the werewolves blocked in." I smiled and she didn't like that, not one bit. "Quit smirking,” she snapped. I felt the relaxing feeling I'd been waiting for come over me. “Am I supposed to be unhappy about it? You had no evidence and jumped to conclusions." "I did no jumping. I did some leg work and there the conclusions were,” she said, making little illustrations of movement with her hands. "But they were wrong,” I said. She stared at me, her eyes cool and steely with a resolve to try to win the argument. " Youwere wrong, Rourke." "I heard you the first time. I did what I thought best with what I had." I moved forward a little making her move back. "You had nothing, but one person who said in the dark it could have been, and you used it to persecute a group of people for being different." "They're monsters, Cassandra." It took me a moment to register the use of my first name; she was now talking to me like she was my mother or something. "Most of the time, they're just people,” I said, in their defence. "You don't understand what it's like, you seem to walk between their world and ours so easily but we can't. Our laws are designed to deal with human crime." "If you want to talk politics, Rourke,” I interrupted. “You've got the wrong person. If you want laws made to give you clear do-and do-nots, talk to our local MP or write to the Prime Minister, but for God's sake, be fair! It's still ‘innocent until proven guilty’ in this country, isn't it?" She took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh that did nothing to elevate the tension. She sat back, rubbing her temples. "My God, you're an idealist,” she said, managing a mixture of amusement and contempt that I have to say I didn't care for.

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"If you dare call it the naivety of youth, it won't be Ben who gets something hard to the skull." "I won't have any violence in my squad room. What were you thinking by bringing him in here?" We were going back to that now. At least she had the decency to refer to Aram as him rather than it . "LeBron asked me the very same thing and as I told him, I don't bring him anywhere. I asked him to wait outside." "He didn't listen?” she asked. "He doesn't often. He's worried about me, so he won't leave my side." "Worried?" She looked shocked, like she didn't know vampires still had a perfect range of emotions from happy to sad. "The vampires aren't the only ones missing people, the weres are too and the elves. It's much bigger than you know." "And you're the private dick in it?" "Of course not. I'm going to find my employers missing men and if I happen to find other people and kick the bad guy's ass, well it will just be a hell of a good day." She disapproved. I could tell by the way every line in her face sunk. Rourke had about fifteen years on me and it was beginning to show. I was staring at the furrows developing in her brow when a knock came on the door. Rourke barked a gruff come in and the door shook with the nerves of the person trying to open it. "What do you want, LeBron?" He pushed the door open just a little more forcing his body into the gap to keep the prying eyes and ears from the squad room out. "Actually, I wanted Miss Farbanks. I've got something I think she should look at,” he said carefully, so as not to arouse his superior's anger any further. I leapt up from the chair, glad of the reprieve. "I want a copy of this something, LeBron,” said Rourke, trying to make sure she had the last word on the situation. "Of course, ma'am,” pandered LeBron. "Do you want a report in triplicate while he's at it?" I was being cheeky. Rourke let a slow smile come over her face, just to prove she had a tiny sense of humour in there somewhere.

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"Not necessary but an update would be nice. If you want your little consultancy fee, you'll keep me in the loop, Farbanks." "Yes ma'am." I mock saluted her and exited with LeBron. Rourke and I could have been friends, if either of us liked the other. I moved around LeBron so I could look over his shoulder as he sat back down at his computer. He had another artist rendering up, next to one of the pictures of my beasties. "Apparently these things are Grunt Demons,” he said. "Demons?” I said, unbelievingly. Hey, I was sceptical even if I could do magic. He flicked a tab on the taskbar that brought the web page the picture originated from to the front. He pointed to the title of the page to confirm himself. Summoning demons was supposed to take some really dark power. I was beginning to believe the woman had to be some sort of rogue witch. She must have conjured a hell gate and plucked these creatures out, like some demonic crane game. Not good. "How did you find this?" "American FBI has a database. I logged in with our access code and checked it out. Apparently these low level demons are pretty easy to summon, they aren't bright, but strong and follow orders,” he said reading from the text. "Could I get a print out of this?" He nodded clicking around in a few more windows; the printer was on its own little plinth sitting pretty much next to Ben's desk. It sprang to life with a whirl and a click, and then the computer monitor beeped. "We got a hit off your sketch too,” said LeBron excited. "Great,” I said. “Print me that too." I moved over to the printer, taking the information sheet in my hand and reading through what little the Americans knew. Demon summoning had become a popular entertainment among the bored rich, socialites in the 1920's. They had a pretty extensive database by now. I'd heard that the government, in league with the Catholic Church, had set up an agency. The Order of Magdalene, who were specifically trained to handle those kinds of cases. Bringing demons over can be pretty easy, sending them back is harder. Controlling them while they're here is even more so, because people lose control and people die. It was all rumours about the Order of course. I'd not seen or heard of a demon summoning past World War Two, and so, if they'd existed, they probably didn't anymore. "What you got there, Farbanks?” asked Benjamin. I looked at Ben, who was calmer now, as he chowed down on a cream éclair that he'd probably found in the bakery box next to the coffee machine.

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"Work, you remember how that goes?" He huffed, stuffing more of the cake in. "LeBron is certainly cosying up to you,” he said, with an uncertain amount of jealousy. "He's doing his job, he's not a lazy bigot like you." Even with his mouth full of mashed up éclair bits, he still decided he could answer me. "I see myself as more of a swashbuckling hero,” he said, through cream and half-masticated pastry. I felt several snide comments encroach on me from the back of my mind, but trying to be good I chose the lesser evil one. "Oh really, and when was the last time you actually swash-buckled?" He started to think about it when LeBron appeared behind the printer and finally got his oar in. “Yesterday. In the corridor with a bottle of Diet Coke." "Hey, that machine was possessed, it stole a quid from me." I started to laugh when the printer whirled to life again. The page started to come through, the photo of the match printing out in A4. The lips appeared curved in a graceful smile, slowly the tilt of the nose and then the eyes, those eyes looked so life-filled and happy. It was definitely the woman who'd been barking orders in the memory—the same one I'd sketched but with different eyes. I began to see what I had known was strange about them, so cold, uncaring, like she was dead inside. The picture lay in the tray and I reached out to it, in locating spells, a picture was better than anything. Ever heard the old adage about a photograph stealing your soul? Virginia had told me, ‘It's not true but it does capture you in a certain way and is quite a quick and effective gateway to the real thing.' "I call to thee, Aradia, Goddess of the lost,” I began chanting. LeBron looked at me, going quiet. He'd not seen magic before and he had to know something like that was going on, because my hair was floating behind me like it was being lifted by an invisible wind. He looked a little scared and a little excited at the same time. Ben looked pissed as he began spitting pastry at me. "No, none of your shit in here, Farbanks!” he demanded. When I ignored him, he tried using my first name but I still went on. "Through the woods of murk, through the darkest night, I call thee. Lead me along the path to find whom I have lost. Aradia, let me see sights beyond sight." I pressed my fingers down on the picture, my index and middle finger deliberately placed over each of her eyes, and I was taken to her in my mind. I saw her briefly—and I immediately wished I hadn't. What I made contact with was angry and powerful, as it slammed all of that harshly down the link back into me. I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut by an elephant. My feet left the ground, and the last thing I felt

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was my body crashing into the wall on the opposite side of the room. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty I woke up in pitch black and for a moment, thought I was dreaming. I thought I was dreaming until I tried to move and pain rocked through me. I wasn't surprised, as the last thing I remembered doing was careering into a wall at a hell of a speed. I must have lost consciousness, because there was no way I was still in PCU. I forced my fingers, which were numb, to unclench until they found the soft satin of sheets around me. I was in a bed, not my bed either. I didn't have sheets this swanky. So where was I? I moved slowly but a lot, trying to ascertain what hurt and what didn't. My stomach still ached but that was all metaphysical, my upper back was okay, but my lower spine felt bruised and purple, and I had a headache. I was praying that I could still walk. I forced myself to sit up and propped the pillow up for support as I leaned back against what felt like a wooden headboard. I also worked out that I wasn't burdened by an abundance of clothes. I was, in fact, in my underwear. I didn't like that at all. Not that I was ashamed of my body, but it meant someone had undressed me and that bothered me. I wrapped the covers around me for comfort; I didn't like feeling this naked in a strange place. I wanted to call out like I had when I woke up at Virginia's, but this time I was a little afraid of who was going to answer. I reached my arm out along the wall searching for anything to make the darkness ebb. A lamp, a candle, but there was nothing on the table next to the bed and I didn't feel brave enough to pull myself from the covers to continue the search. I closed my eyes and let out a deep sigh of defeat. I felt tired and my body ached, but I forced myself to think—to think about the woman. I'd seen her if only briefly, she'd not liked it and hadn't been shy about expressing it. I kept trying to faze her out of the picture and look at the scene around her. The more I tried to focus on it, the blurrier it seemed to become until my head throbbed with the strain. Sounds came from what must have been outside the room—feet and the turning of the door handle. A light snapped on and I screwed my eyes up, unaccustomed to the sudden brightness. Slowly I managed to peer out from under my eyelids to see someone approaching me. "You are awake, which is good. It means the damage was not as bad as we feared." I forced my eyes all the way open, if only to be polite enough to look at the person who was talking to me. Jareth was standing by the light switch and closing the door behind him. I took a chance to look around. I was lying in a four post bed draped in dark green sheets, with gauze curtains a little lighter in appearance but matching none the less. The headboard I rested against was decorated by a sunburst design and the posts of the bed were carved to look twisted. Straight across from me was a fireplace. George the Third in style statuary in sienna marble, beautiful, the ashes from previous fires long since out, decorated the bottom of the hearth. Built into the walls themselves were row upon row of books and artefacts from all over the world—a mask from Africa and a fan from Singapore. A Val Bonne couch much like the one in my bedroom, a deep cream colour trimmed by gold stood with its back to me in front of the fireplace. There was a mahogany table in the middle with two chairs, circular backed upholstered in such dark blue velvet that, to my eye, it could have been black. The table I'd reached for next to the bed was bronze, ornately cast with a flower and vine motif. It was topped beautifully by cold black marble, a matching set one on either side. The bed was on a raised stone platform that let me look over everything. Two doors were in the wall either side of the fireplace and I wondered what was behind them.

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While I'd been examining the room, Jareth had crossed over from the doorway taking the step up to the bed and sitting down on the edge. The weight on my lap made me realise, for the first time, that he'd been carrying a silver tray with him. It had a plate on it with a napkin over the top. "What's this?” I asked. I lifted the corner of the napkin up and found a sandwich underneath, I looked into his eyes and he gave a small smile. "Grilled cheese. You will have missed a meal and it's the best I can do,” he said. I laughed suddenly and he seemed uneasy. I couldn't help it, the thought that a five hundred and something vampire had made me a grilled cheese sandwich was just a little humorous. "Thank you, that's very nice." I picked it up and chewed off the corner; it tasted pretty damn good and the minute it was in my mouth I realised how hungry I was. I ate the whole thing while he watched me, his tongue running over his bottom lip like he wondered how it tasted. I pushed the tray down my legs and leaned back again, scooping the covers up remembering that I was just in my underwear after all. "Where am I and how long was I out this time?” I inquired politely. "This is Aram's room, and it is two am, so five or so hours. You were lucky not to have any serious injuries." "Where is he?" "Upstairs,” said Jareth looking a little surprised, “he is helping with the closing up. He has promised to sleep in his coffin tonight, so you can stay in here." "I could go to mine, its not far; I just need my clothes back. Which one of you undressed me anyway?" Jareth took the tray from my lap with an amused snort and placed it on the bedside table. "The young elf boy got very vocal that we shouldn't, so we had a female companion do it. We were only thinking of your comfort and I will not allow you to leave." I eye-balled him, trying to tell him without words that as soon as dawn hit there was no way he could keep me here. He'd be very much dead to the world and I could just walk over him. "This enemy has attacked you twice,” he said, “seriously but not fatally. I want to know you are safe, as does Aram, so will you stay here where there are guards." "No offence but..." He put a finger to my lips; it made me quiet with the cool touch of it. I looked into his eyes and there was suddenly something very much like Aram in them. "Whereas I could only keep you here physically until dawn, there is nothing to stop me locking the bedroom door."

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He wouldn't dare, I thought, but his face was very serious. He would seriously lock me up in here until dark covered the sky again if he thought it would keep me safe. "And here I thought you were the reasonable one." He chuckled. I was getting used to Jareth's laugh. I seemed to amuse him a lot. This was the longest I'd ever really spent in a room with him. I'd seen him a lot but not really seen him. He'd been sort of a polite stop on the way to either bug or berate Aram. Actually, this was an evening of firsts, because this was the first time I'd been in Aram's room and in his bed. It was a little weird that it felt strangely comfortable. "Magnus. What happened to him after I—" I wanted to say ‘passed out,’ but I'd been knocked out. In the end, though, I didn't need to finish my sentence. Jareth knew exactly what I was asking. "He is resting in my room, although I prefer the comfort of my bed, I too will be coffin bound come morning." I looked at the size of the bed; there was enough room for Magnus. "He could share with me and you could have your bed." Jareth's face went a little slack with disbelief. It's not like the most awful thing I'd ever said. I'd shared a bed with a bloke before, and there had been no funny business, we'd just slept. "What? Give me a shirt and I would be perfectly comfortable sharing with Magnus. It's just a sleeping arrangement, not a commitment." "While it is nice to know your open sensibility, Aram would kill me. It is all right, you will stay here. Aram fetched you a change of clothes from your home, they're in the bathroom for the morning." He looked back over his shoulder down to where the two doors were. Although the thought of Aram going through my clothes was a little infuriating, I was more worried about where the bathroom was. Some clothes were usually better than none at all. "Which one is the bathroom?" I pointed to the one on the right, he nodded and I scrambled to keep the covers up as moving my arm lost my grip on them. Jareth looked, if only briefly, proving that even he was a normal bloke. I coughed, wrapping it tighter and felt the first trace of a flush in my cheeks. "I really don't feel comfortable about this. If you're worried about me, I will just take Magnus with me, he can sleep on the couch." "He is already asleep,” said Jareth, cutting me off sharply. I stopped. It would seem a little selfish of me to go waking him up just so I could get out of here. I didn't want Jareth to think I was selfish, why I cared what he thought I wasn't quite sure. "I just feel like I'm imposing and I have this whole apprehension about being locked in with—well, vampires, some of which don't like me."

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"Who does not like you?” he asked. "I'm not going to cause trouble by naming names. I have a safety issue." "I told you I will lock the door, the key will be with me and all the others will sleep at dawn as well. You will be completely safe, I assure you." "And about locking the door?" He glared at me and I sort of sunk back against the pillow. I was obviously pushing my luck when they were trying to do something nice for me. I still didn't like it but I wasn't sure what I could do about it. Every objection I had come up with had been dealt back with an equally good response. Did I just admit he was right and go to sleep like a good girl? I thought about it, the pain in my back was still so fresh that a night's sleep without worry would be nice. Of course what I was being locked in with, still bore remembering. "How do I know—really know, I can trust you all to behave?" "How do we know you will not drag our sleeping bodies into the sunlight? We do not, but trust must start somewhere, Cassandra." He used my name so sparsely that every time he did say it, I felt suddenly quiet and still. I gave the barest of ‘you win’ nods and he touched my hand. I didn't pull away from him as I would from Aram. Jareth didn't want anything from me that I wasn't ready or willing to give. "If it shall make you feel more comfortable, I will take the key to ... Magnus, I think you said his name was, and he can let you out in the morning after you've had a proper rest." I gave an amused snort; I noticed his idea of a compromise didn't include reneging on locking me up in Dante's all night. I had a feeling it was the best offer I was going to get. "That would be acceptable." "At last you give,” he said with a subtle smile. "Only because—how did you put it before—you do not like obstinate women and right now, being on your good side is a must." He stroked his chin as if contemplating what kind of a smile he should give; he gave me a slightly sly relaxed one. "You are not quite as I first thought." I looked at him dead on and there was something in his eyes, strange and new. “That is not what you wanted to say." He gave me an easy smile, and ignoring my words, he picked up the tray he had come in with and stood. "I will return to lock the door in a half hour and send Aram back to say goodnight."

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I was going to tell him not to send Aram in but he was already going. Clothes, I had to find more to wear before Aram got back here. As soon as Jareth was out the door, I threw back the covers moving as fast as I could manage to the other side of the room. Damn, which one had been the bathroom? I went for the door to the left, as it was closest. It opened with a gentle creek and I reached inside flipping on a light switch. Rails of clothes ran around the walls of the room, burdened with outfits from many eras that he'd lived through. In the middle was an elegant round seat and a full-length mirror in the bottom corner. Did vampires have reflections? I knew in the movies they didn't but I'd never got one to stand in front of a mirror to see if it were true. I heard the door to the bedroom open. I panicked and grabbed at a medieval looking tunic shirt, white that would have laced up to the neck and had a cravat or something added to hide the lacing. "Andra, where are you?” came Aram's voice. "Um, just a minute." I started pulling it over my head. Aram was a good couple of inches taller than I, and a man, so this would probably fit like a sack. "Are you in the closet?" His voice held mild amusement as the sound of his steps came ever closer to me. I pulled my head and arms through; it fell over my body just covering my thighs. The unlaced gap left a good shot of my cleavage on show but I was less naked and that felt better. Aram turned into the room and stopped in the doorway stunned. "I was cold,” I said quickly, adding, “you'll get it back." "You are a vision, pet, such a boring shirt and suddenly it has new life." He smiled at me while leaning against the doorframe to take a good long look. I turned my back to him and moved so I could take a little look in the mirror. There was something slightly centre-foldish about me, especially as my under wear was black. I half looked as if I was waiting for a bucket of water to be thrown over me. Aram's arms folded around me. I drew in a deep breath but didn't move. I couldn't move without irritating a few bruises. I kept my head down as he nuzzled his in against my neck but I raised my eyes to look in the mirror. I could see him standing behind me, wrapped around me. He cast a reflection, anything physical, solid, real, casts a reflection, and he was no different. It proved I shouldn't base my opinions on what I saw in the movies. "Aram?" He mumbled a yes, as his nose pressed into my hair taking in deep breaths, so he could capture the scent in his mind. "Do you ever miss being human?"

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"Sometimes,” he said, one of his hands loosened at my waist moving away. “But if I were not what I am, I would never have met you. I have waited many lifetimes for you, my walking, talking fantasy." His hand that I'd thought had been letting me go was in fact trying to claim me in other ways. His fingers brushed the inside of my knee and slid, pressing into the flesh of my thigh. I gasped with the shock of it and fell back into him, the hard metal buckle of his belt slamming into my sore spine. I cried out with the pain it sent shooting through me. He let me go, let me fall to my knees and bend my back until it stopped. "Andra, I didn't mean." "See where all your playing about gets you." I turned slowly, scooting my knees around on the carpet, he'd let me drop to my knees but he hadn't drawn back, so I ended up with my face level with the belt of his trousers. I looked up at him, a tiny sparkle in his eyes made my entire face flush. It took me a minute to find my voice and then when I did, I stuttered. "Help me up." I raised up enough to be able to pull my feet out from under me. Aram bent sweeping one arm against the back of my knees and the other around my shoulders, he lifted me up without so much as a grunt of effort. "Put me down,” I cried. "Allow me the little things, I have always wanted to carry you to my bed while you were awake—even though, alas, I am not going to be joining you." I went silent and felt my skin creeping with redness. He carried me into the main room and gently lay me down under the covers that I'd thrown off. He walked across the room to turn off the light in the closet and shut the door. I bunched the covers back around me, making a big show of making myself at home. I turned the pillow the right way round and snuggled down, careful not to unwittingly bump my lower back again, as it was still throbbing from the last time. He ran his hand over my hair and I yawned. I could do with some sleep. Being knocked out isn't quite the same as being asleep, you don't dream when you're knocked out. ’”Do not sleep for a thousand years, my princess." Aram's voice was soft and quiet, getting more so as I felt sleep falling like a blanket over my closing eyes. After a while, I'd lost everything in the room except the gentle feel of the sheets and my own breathing. My hair moved away from my face and then came the cool press of lips, a kiss just to the side of my eye, the same place my mother used to kiss me goodnight when she thought I was already sleeping. The darkness was complete with the sound of a lock turning into place, and finally my dreams caught up with me. My dreams, though, were interrupted by the sound of a familiar tune off in the distance, accompanied by the jangle of metal and a sharp poke through the covers. "Hey, this thing's ringing,” came a male voice. Still trying to hang onto sleep, I didn't recognise it.

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"Five more minutes." I felt the jab again just short of a bruise, so I reached out from under the covers to have my phone thrust into my palm. I pressed it to my ear, then remembered I had to open it first. "What?” I moaned into the phone. "Miss Farbanks?" I made a grunting sound as I puzzled out whose voice was on the other end and why they weren't calling me by name. "LeBron?” I guessed. “This isn't a PCU number." "It's a payphone. How did you know?” he asked. "You guys have your own annoying little ringtone so I can ignore you if I want." He huffed and I could hear him shuffling the phone about as he moved. I half imagined him hunched over, his trench coat collar up trying not to be seen. "Look, after your pyrotechnics display last night, Rourke was all over that lead of yours, until she learnt how you got it." "Really?" "Dropped it like a ton of bricks, banned anyone from bothering with it unless they could find a legitimate line of enquiry,” he continued. "Now she chooses to bend the law, all leads are supposed to be investigated,” I complained. "So, I'm calling you." "It may be the earliness of the morning talking, but why?" "The only print out left of that missing person file is in your possession. I can't log in and get a new one without a red flag going up for Rourke." "I left that print out on the table when I..." I stopped mid sentence. I didn't actually really know what to call what had happened to me but it wasn't really something I did. "Your friend, the one with the tan, bundled it all into your bag. Look, I think it's worth looking into and as you've got what I need, I'm cutting you in—besides, you could come in useful." "Most gracious of you. I'm bruised and I haven't even had breakfast." "I'll meet you when you're ready."

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"Fine, call me again in an hour when I'm awake." Not waiting to hear whether he would or not, I hung up and rolled slowly onto my back. I'd discovered on my front I was almost in no pain at all. I peered out from under the covers where Magnus, wearing the most modest pair of boxer shorts that I'd ever seen, was making himself comfortable on the end of the bed. "I pictured you as more of a tighty whitey guy,” I said with a little laugh. "What?” Sleepily he looked down, turned an almost deep crimson, and turfed the sheets about so that they flopped over his lap. “Good morning to you too." I smiled; in fact, my grin was massive. Not for the fact that teasing him was easy—which it was—but to try and deny to him and myself that I was still in any pain at all. If I admitted I was in pain there was no way I was going to get out of this bed. "Did you sleep well?” I asked. "Like a log, forgot where I was.” He looked around at the difference in décor, “And I slept on that bloody key all night." He held up his left forearm to show me an almost purple indent in his arm, which looked like a very old, iron cast key. Jareth had said he'd give it to Magnus but I thought he'd leave it on the table or something in his room, not full blown into his hand. I should have expected Jareth to be literal. "So who was it?” asked Magnus. "LeBron, he wants to come along on my lead even though Rourke's already forbade it. I seem to inspire people that way." "To follow?" "Mmm, or more accurately to stop following the people they're supposed to. He's going to call back." Magnus twiddled his thumbs and got a dopey look on his face. "You really frightened me when you went flying like that. My heart felt like it would stop." "Cool under pressure though, you managed to grab all my stuff,” I said, trying to show him how much I appreciated it. "It's all I could think to do after losing the fight with Aram to take you to the hospital. That young cop was white as a sheet and shaking, while the other—that Benjamin—was trying to keep Rourke busy while we got you out. She heard the crash in her office and God, can that woman yell." "Yeah, God blessed her with a hell of a set of pipes and a huge body to keep them in." Magnus smiled. "I did notice she was a little on the masculine side."

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"That's putting it lightly, I swear that woman has balls." I let the sheet drop as I moved myself to sit up more comfortably; I was still covered fairly well by the shirt I'd borrowed off Aram. It had ridden up a little during the night but my lower half was still safely under the covers. "I don't suppose you think vampires keep a nice hot pot of coffee on standby in the mornings, do you,” I asked jokingly. “It's highly unlikely, although I must say they do have comfy beds. I've got to ask for their retailer." "Lumpy bed issues?” he asked. "Mmm, I'm lucky to get a couple of hours of sleep, guess it's why I'm not really a morning person. Morning people should be banned. To be that perky after a long night, it's just not natural." He gave a slow nod of agreement and whispered to me three magical words. "How about breakfast?" [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-one There were two shocks awaiting me after we'd decided to go out into town for breakfast. First, were the clothes Aram had brought me from home. Cut off denim short-shorts—not quite hot pants but not nearly long enough—and a Basque corset-like top, both remnants of old Halloween costumes. I'd never worn either out in the light of day but I kind of had no choice as the clothes I'd arrived in had gone missing. Magnus's face was funny when he saw me, luckily he'd kept a tight hold of both my jacket and my bag. The second thing was how seriously the day guards took instructions from the vampires. Aram had told them I wasn't to go out and it took yelling, at who I vaguely thought might have been the guy from the telephone the other morning, that Aram was not in charge of me and I would do what the hell I wanted. He'd been a sensitive man and the ripple of power that emanates from me when I'm losing my temper, unnerved him. Once outside it was a fairly pleasant day. Not that a gust of wind wasn't too unhappy to blast up the back of the shorts to remind me it was late September and far past the right time of year for my outfit. I twiddled with the locket around my neck surprised at how one little thing worked to keep me here in the day. Magnus took to holding my arm as we moved further and further into town and the more and more men stared at my legs. I was glad the footwear Aram had left me were my knee-high boots because it took some of the flesh away and there was no way I was unzipping this jacket in public. I had thought about going home and changing, only to remember my house keys were in the pocket of my jeans from last night and I was not about to get caught breaking into my own place. I would suffer, if only to have a very good reason to yell at Aram later. I found yelling at him very therapeutic. There were some things that he was good for, at least. There weren't that many places open on a Saturday, which is unusual to say the least when you're used to hustle and bustle. The middle of town was the most active, where the biggest shops were and right in the middle of Woolworth's and Marks and Spencer's was an alley that was pitch dark. Magnus began to head towards it.

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"Wait! What's down there?” I asked. He looked at me strangely as if I should know, but he didn't know this was my first visit to town during the day on this side. "You can't seriously tell me you've not been down here before,” he said, with more than a little surprise in his voice. "Can't say I have, I'm more of a night owl." I must have walked past the alley a million times at night but in the dark, it had blended perfectly with the building. I'd never even noticed it. He slid his hand down my arm and took a firm grip on my hand, sliding our fingers into interlocking. Strangely, I didn't mind. "Come and see,” he said with a delighted little grin. "Will I like it?” He smiled at me, this time the smile reached all the way to his eyes. It was a smile I liked very much. "You'll like it,” he said with confidence. We moved into the darkness and somewhere in the middle of it, it became so dark, I could no longer see back to the street or the end that we were heading for. I tightened my grip around his fingers through mine, shielding my eyes as he led me into the sun. It shone in through the leaves of a huge oak tree that looked like it had been left to grow for a millennium. All around it were other buildings so the canopy was like a roof. Towards the back wall was a hut in which was the smallest kitchen ever, even so, it had two people crammed into it. Tables and chairs were scattered around the roots, where people sat looking blissfully happy while staring up at the twinkling of light through the leaves. The brilliance of the place astounded me, as Magnus directed us to a table where two old gentlemen were leaving and a busboy in an apron so grotty, I just knew he was a student with this as his part timer. Magnus pulled out the chair for me and I sat down, crossing my legs over each other while the bus-boy stared. His hand shook the last plate he was trying to clear into the plastic tub under his arm. Magnus put his hand firmly on the teenager's shoulder and the plate crashed down into the tub. "Two breakfasts and an order of toast,” he said, with no hint he meant to spook the poor guy on purpose. The bus-boy put the tub down and searched himself, like it wasn't obvious to him that his order pad was sticking out of the single pocket of his unwashed apron. He wrote the order down diligently. "The breakfast comes with a glass of juice,” he murmured, looking a little disappointed. Taking Magnus for my boyfriend and leaving him without a chance. "Orange for me,” replied Magnus. “Cassandra?" I watched the boy repeat my name silently and gave a smile. "Do you do anything other than apple or orange?"

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"Yes, miss,” he said ecstatically, recounting them. “Cranberry, tomato, or grapefruit." "Cranberry sounds good." He jotted it down looking at me with a smile of his own. He headed away, quickly returning when he realised he'd left his tub behind. I let a wink slip that made his face go scarlet as he hurried away. "Were you flirting with him?" I looked at Magnus whose face was leant on his hands. “Nope. I don't flirt, company policy." He gave a smile to reflect my attempt at humour hadn't failed miserably. He also seemed somewhat relieved. There were times when I thought, yes, I get Magnus and other times when I was completely lost. I never did read men as well as I thought or as well as it seemed they could read me. I turned my head away from him, a need to see anything but that confusing look on his face. I saw the boy racing towards us, the tray in his hands burdened with our order. I also saw the tree root just in front of him. I couldn't tell him to watch out, it was too late so it was going to happen, but I could save breakfast. His foot snagged, I held out my hands saying one word quite loud and firmly. "Float." The boy went down but the tray remained in the air, perfectly balanced. He rolled his eyes up to look at it hovering above his head. "Oh, that's just cool,” he squeaked. "You want to take it, it's kind of heavy." And it was, which was unusual. I was more exhausted than I'd realised and even this simple bit of magic was hard to concentrate on. He stood, taking up the tray, I relaxed my hands when I was sure he had it and slumped back in my chair. He put the tray down and slowly unloaded the contents. "Thanks,” said the bus-boy. “You probably just saved a third of my pay check." "No problem,” I said through a sigh. Magnus waited until the boy left before he reached out. He touched my wrist and my pulse beat hard against his fingers. "Are you okay?” he asked. "Being hit by that woman's energy twice in less than forty eight hours, must have drained me more than I thought." "Will you be all right?” he asked, with a voice filled with concern. "Some food and if I lay off using magic for a few hours, I'll be a happy little magical girl once more." I looked down at the breakfast that had been put before me; at no point had I stopped to question what an order of breakfast was. For all I'd known it could have been something I was completely unable to eat. Luckily, in this case, breakfast meant full English—eggs, bacon, sausage, half a fried tomato and a

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hash brown. The toast, on a separate plate, had come with butter, marmalade, and jam—all neat in little separate pots. My face reflected red in the glass that contained my juice. Magnus was already diving in, wedging a fried egg between two triangles of toast to make a sandwich. I took a piece and took my time buttering it while enjoying the ambience. It was quite peaceful here and I wanted to enjoy the feeling while I could. I took a bite of my toast; it was crisp and perfect, the hot smell of melting butter dancing under my nose. When I was younger, I'd never liked toast but the smell of it was something that just made a morning. I ate around the egg. I'd always found a fried egg unattractive, scrambled was nice while poaching made eggs slightly more grand than I think any egg set out to be. In the end, I forced it between two pieces of toast and deposited it on the edge of Magnus's plate. He gave me a big toothy grin, then devoured it mercilessly while I sat back sipping my juice. I watched the tables around us, as soon as one set of people departed, another took their place. Some still ordering breakfast, some who'd moved on to what appeared to be a lunchtime menu. I was making a bet with myself about whether a newly arriving teen couple would be ordering breakfast or lunch, when my phone started ringing. I routed around in my bag for it, realising at the same time that my wallet—which I'd been sure was in there—was actually in my missing pair of jeans. I swore quietly. "I'm gonna go out to the street to take this. I'll have to owe you for breakfast.” I walked quickly towards the alley in case Magnus was upset about me sticking him with the bill. I answered the phone, it was LeBron again. "Jeez, has it been an hour already?” I looked at my wrist for the time only to remember that I didn't actually own a watch. No wonder I never knew what time it was. "Hour and a half but who's counting?” LeBron added sarcastically. "So what do you want me to do?” I asked. "Meet me ASAP,” he hissed into the phone, like he was afraid to be over heard. "Okay, where?" "The corner of College Street and Friar. You're with the half-elf now because the vampires are sleeping, he has a car right?" "Yes." "He can drive us, pick me up in the next hour.” With that, he hung up. I half expected him to be waiting in a khaki trench coat and dark glasses when we got there. A hand came down on my shoulders. Magnus, still swallowing down some food, hadn't been far behind me. "Was that the cop?” he asked. "Mmm, he wants us to pick him up at Friar and College." "I parked under the railway bridge near the club. Do you want to start walking back that way and I'll run ahead to get it started." I nodded dumbly; I felt that if I spoke, it would remind him he wasn't supposed to leave me alone. It wasn't my rule—it was something he and Aram had agreed on. He gave me a smile and jogged off. I walked slowly, not sure if my breakfast or my heels would allow me to try to match his pace. I adjusted

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the strap of my bag, stuck my hands deep in the pockets of my jacket and headed back towards Dante's. I could feel this heavy cloud above me, not literally—although due to an errant spell it had happened—but there was this shadow over me. I could feel it like a brand burnt into my skin. The woman had spared me twice, hurt me but not enough to kill me. There was something she'd sensed when our powers mixed that had made a mark on me. I was someone she wanted the chance to meet and that thought scared me no end. The only thing left to me was to change the way this game was played, make things happen on my terms and not hers. The closer I'd got to finding her before she was ready, and her strength at almost full force had hit me. She was a little more than annoyed that I was moving in so fast, but time was a precious commodity for me because who knew how long the spell that hung around my neck would last. I came to the curve in the road by Broad Street and the sound of a car horn honking made me look to my left. Magnus pulled up behind a half-empty taxi rank, reaching across the passenger's side to open the door for me. I climbed in and sunk back into the seat. "Something the matter?” he asked. I wondered if my fear was beginning to show in the lines of my face, but at least I could still lie well. "Still tired I guess. Let's go." I fiddled with my bag, pulling out the information we'd printed out on the missing woman, who was now my biggest lead. I held my stomach as Magnus drove—not because he was a bad driver but reading in a moving vehicle always made me nauseous. I took a deep breath and forced myself to continue. I needed to know what was in here before meeting LeBron. I didn't want to be a step behind. Twenty-nine year old Jane Grailey had been the top sales woman for Diglis Water. They were a new range of luxury condos—the kind that the everyday man or woman couldn't afford without mortgaging everything they owned right down to their underwear. I said to myself, her tight little skirt suit had screamed that she worked in property retail. She was married. The report didn't say for how long but it noted her husband had reported her disappearance a month ago and he'd been cleared of suspicion. I kept reading but it wasn't anything of real interest—places she liked to go and a list of her known associates and friends. One line at the bottom caught my eye and it sent a shiver through me. I knew somehow this day was going to end badly. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-two We pulled up outside the Old Talbot on the corner of College St and Friar and there we waited, each of us looking out the window for LeBron to approach us. "Are you sure he wanted to meet here?” asked Magnus, scanning the street. There was a steady but thin stream of people coming and going. "Yeah. There are only two corners, this one here and that one over there and we're in sight of both. So, where he is, I just don't...” I froze mid sentence.

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The back door opened and my eyes caught a figure climbing into the back seat in the review mirror. "Drive,” LeBron said. Magnus put the car into gear and took off down Friar Street to go out onto City Walls and make our way from there. LeBron moved to sit more comfortably on the other side of the back seat so that he could look through the gap at me. "Why all so Secret Squirrel?” I asked. "DS. Hodgeson's been keeping an eye on me. I had to be careful about talking to you. As it could give Rourke the reason she needs to put my balls on her chopping board.” He breathed out deeply relieved and we went on our way. Jane and her husband lived in a nice stretch of houses on the outskirts of an area, that was affectionately known as ‘Wizard World,’ as if it was some cheap amusement park. Every house in Wizard World had at least one magical resident and the houses did not come cheap. Since Jane herself wasn't a licensed witch, I presumed she'd married the magically inclined party. She had power, but you didn't have to be a license-carrying witch to have power. I was proof enough of that. We headed up the London Road and LeBron pressed his face against the window. "Now entering Pleasantville,” he chuckled. And he wasn't wrong. Wizarding communities were quite often perfect, or at least gave off the illusion of perfection. I could always tell a magical household because they had stunning gardens, immaculate houses, no litter, no broken street lamps or road signs, and absolutely no graffiti. They had their spells. A spell so the lawn was always lusciously green, a spell to make the windows clean themselves, even one to make sure the garden gate never rusted or squeaked. If anything ever needed doing, you could just enchant something. I was dying for a serious case of the Sorcerer's Apprentice to happen, with or without the cartoon mouse. Jane's house was a modest looking three storey Victorian, just inside the Wizarding zone. Magnus pulled up outside, while LeBron and I surveyed the house through the windows. "Looks pretty quiet,” said LeBron extracting his nose from the cold glass. I nodded. There was a car parked outside, washed down with rain and canvassed by leaves from the tree above. It hadn't rained in a couple of weeks and the weather hadn't heated up enough to dry all the moisture, so I had to assume the car hadn't been out of the drive for at least that long. The bins were all neatly stacked along a wall that separated its small front yard from next door. Steps led down to a basement from the outside, scattered by leaves meant, that they'd not been swept by a person or broom in some time. The second floor had a small balcony, but a person could squeeze out onto it. The front door had a pane of stained glass that looked dull and dirty. This house did not look lived in and the last line from the report drummed in my head. No one had been in contact with the husband since he'd been cleared of suspicion. LeBron opened his door and stepped out. Magnus and I exchanged a quick look then followed, leaving my bag plus the file, safe on the car seat. LeBron pressed the doorbell several times. No answer came. He pressed it once more before checking the living room window, then shone a torch into the basement. His head moved suddenly as he shone the light in a new direction, before he hurried back up the steps.

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"There was movement from inside. I'm going to break the door down,” he said, then rushed back to the front door. I put my hand onto his chest and blocked his foot with my leg. "Calm down, cowboy, do you want a breaking and entering charge on your record? Let alone having to pay for damages?" He sighed, shaking his head. Breaking into the house by kicking the door in would create a lot of noise, there were far more subtle ways to do things. I cupped my hand over the lock and thrust my power through it, like my very own skeleton key. There's actually a very effective spell to stop people from being able to do it but like all these little spells, they had to be recharged once a week or they stopped working. If there had been any spells on this house, they were long since dissipated. I felt the lock click and pushed down on the handle. The door opened, jamming about a quarter of the way open. "What's wrong?” LeBron asked. "It's stuck is what's wrong.” I moved my body to squeeze through the gap. “Hang on." "Where are you going?” asked LeBron impatiently from behind me. "I said, hang on." I squeezed into the hallway, which was dark with a musty smell. I tried a light switch but got nothing. I reached my hand back through the gap. "I need your flashlight." LeBron didn't ask what for, just handed it over. I turned it on and saw what was blocking the door. Post. Piles and piles of post, almost a complete month's worth sitting on the welcome mat. I shut the door to a grunt from LeBron and bent down to scoop it up. Junk, bills, demands and final demands from the electric company—which explained why there were no lights. I dumped them against the wall away from the door and pulled it open. I handed the torch back to LeBron. He shone it along the floor. "That's a lot of mail,” he said. "Yep. Electricity's been cut off. Let's see if we can find the kitchen, they've got to keep torches or candles or something. LeBron took the lead. Straight ahead was the stairs, a door to the left and one squeezed in along the tiny patch of wall at the back. Having figured the large window at the front was to let light into the living room, the back one had to be either the kitchen or the way into the basement. In these Victorian houses, it would be just my luck that the kitchen and basement would be one and the same. LeBron tried the door on the left. I let him go in first; he was the police, after all. Plus if anything leapt out of the darkness, I'd have time to react while it was attacking him. The living room was a his-and-hers paradise, everything was paired. From the candle sticks on their mock fireplace to the book shelves and even the couches faced each other. It was like there was an invisible line down the room separating it into

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the masculine and the feminine. This was not a couple that had or planned on having children, ever. They were far too pleased with being a monogamous pair. It was the kind of relationship that had evolved out of pretence. You got so used to each other that you couldn't be alone, but you wouldn't really open up the possibilities of the future. I'd hate to get trapped in a relationship like that, where nothing changed because nothing could change without upsetting their quasi—happy existence. Magnus moved to adjust the blinds to let more light in. "No, you'll disturb the scene,” barked LeBron. LeBron was quite forceful as he shone his torch at him. Magnus took a step back, taking on the view that the safest place for his hands was in his pockets. The living space took up the whole side of the house, leaving only dark, drab curtains at the other end, behind which were patio doors leading out to a modest spit of garden. The basement was the kitchen. Damn it! I didn't want to go down there. It had one tiny little window at street level, meaning it had to be lit by electricity even during the day. "Kitchen must be downstairs,” said LeBron. I'd already worked that out, but it was nice to know he was with me on the same page, if a few lines behind. We moved back out into the hallway, creeping along like the Scooby Doo crew, towards the far door, which was slightly ajar. Had it only looked closed to me when we'd come in? Had it been ajar all the time? LeBron put his hand flat on the wood and pushed it open with a loud creek. The stairs down were bathed in darkness, like a single step down would drag you under the dark shimmering pool of black—unable to see, unable to go back. He shone the light into it, revealing another step below the last one we could see. "I don't know about you fellas but I don't really want to go down there,” I said, suddenly feeling less like Daphne and more like Shaggy. "I saw movement from down there,” said LeBron with an air to his voice that told me I was being as silly as I sounded. "It's the movement I'm worried about,” I said, low under my breath. LeBron started to move downward, revealing more of the stairs below but the ones he'd just walked on vanished back in the dark. "Are you coming?” he asked. "Just give me a minute,” I said, taking deep breaths and trying to convince myself that I actually wanted to go down there. "If you're that scared, why don't you do the magic trick you did at Bell Square, make all the lights come on,” suggested LeBron. "Because there are things that like the dark, they smell magic and think dinner. Besides, I'm still a little tired or did we miss my stunning, flying pyrotechnics last night." "If you're alright to be up and about, you're alright to do a little spell,” said LeBron descending another stair in front of me. "Thanks for the confidence Colombo but..."

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I heard a scuttering sound, like feet shuffling very fast over carpet, it came from above us. I leaned back into Magnus. "Did you hear that?” I asked. His ears were twice the size of mine, he had to have heard it. "Yes,” he said in a hushed voice, figuring I meant for LeBron not to hear. LeBron was continuing down the stairs. "Hey,” I called down to him. “Yell if you find anything, we're going to check out the upstairs." "We are?" Magnus raised his eyebrows to question why I would rather move towards the strange noises. I gave him a gentle smile. "I'll let you open all the blinds you want." He smiled at me and confirmed we were going upstairs. We got a rough, ‘yeah whatever’ in return. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs with my hand on the banister. "I must make a point of asking him his first name,” I said to myself. I climbed gingerly up the stairs to the first floor. The room that appeared right in front of me, looked to be a second bedroom that had been turned into an office. The door to which was wide open so I walked inside. Magnus lurked in the doorway for a minute before heading straight to the window and flooding the room with light. Files and papers lined the bookshelves that edged the wall, a desk was against the sidewall behind the door. Right by the door on the left was a goldfish bowl, remarkably with a still living goldfish in it. It swam hurriedly away from Magnus as he tapped on the glass. He examined the bowl from all the sides he could, his features becoming large and distorted through the glass. I bit my lips to stop from laughing but still a snicker came out. "It's got one of those little ball things that's like two weeks worth of food, so they don't starve when you're on holiday,” he said, ignoring my obvious amusement. "It's beginning to look like this house has had abandonment issues for about two or so weeks.” I moved to the desk where what must have been Jane's appointment book was lying open. All the appointments for the end of this and the beginning of next month had been crossed out and cancelled. The papers on her desk were what you expected of a realtor—price lists and interior shots of houses. Underneath it all was an answering machine, its little blinking red light told me she had messages. I dug it out and, without a second thought, pushed play. "Jane, are you there? It's Ernie. I've had some rather sudden complaints about you cancelling appointments without much notice or apology. That's just not like you. Will you call me?" From the sound of the firm gruff voice, I'd say the man of the first message was her boss. The second message was him as well, telling her that if she kept missing work he'd suspend her. The third message was the suspension. The machine clicked and a much softer older voice came over the line. "Jane, dear, it's mother. Just calling to see how you are, not heard from you in a while. I'm going down to Cornwall tomorrow to see your Aunt Judy, probably be gone a month. You'll have to come over for

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tea when I get back. I'll make sure to give her your love." That was the last message. It appeared that although people had twigged something was up with Jane, none of them bothered to look too deeply into it. I searched through the planner for Ernie's number, positive that talking to him might be useful. No number but her work address, I'd have to go down in person. I also pocketed the answer machine tape. If I could get my hands on a dictaphone, I could play it to him as proof, me lacking credentials of any kind. I found one as I routed through her draws and then I heard the shuffling again. I turned around and Magnus was gone, I moved out into the hall, he had his head in a second room. "What's in there?” I asked. "Bathroom. Toilet seat's up, so I think a man was the last in here." "Good deduction, Holmes." He turned around smiling at me. “Thanks." I stared up the second set of stairs leading to the second floor. I could see the outline of a door in the shadows, part open just like the kitchen door had been. The stairs creaked and I jumped as a hand came down on mine. I looked over the banister at LeBron as he threw me up a torch. "I found it under the sink, it's got batteries and everything,” he said, with a smirk of having caught me off guard. I smacked the end of it and clicked the on button, testing it for myself before shinning the beam up the stairs. "Certainly lighter up here with all the curtains open,” said LeBron suspiciously. I looked back at him and smiled. "We found it like that,” said Magnus, who was quick to answer. LeBron stared at him hard and with growing suspicion. "By the way,” I said, thinking it was time to subtly change the subject. “What's your first name?" LeBron stared at me a little wide eyed, like he was looking at me properly for the first time and not finding who he thought he would. "Um, it's Michael,” he said a little unsteadily. "Great, Michael. I'm Cassandra, that's Magnus; we're all friends, perfect. Michael, Magnus two mmms.” I smiled to myself and started up the stairs, not really caring if either of them was staring at me blankly. The smell hit me half way up. A horrible, bleak, dark smell, rotten, wet and metallic, all at once. The smell of meat left out in the sun and of a public toilet. As hideous an odour as there ever was, for this was how everything ended. "Oh Jesus, what is that?” asked Magnus, who walking close behind me, caught the stench next.

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"If you don't want to know, don't come up here,” I said firmly. He probably shouldn't come up with me anyway. There are some things you just want to save nice, normal guys like him from. Magnus hesitated, but took a deep breath through his mouth and continued to follow me. The ajar door had scratch marks on the wood around the catch until it had broken to allow something inside without opening the door via the doorknob. I pushed it open and shone the light inside. Like cockroaches, they panicked and scurried hurriedly for the only exit, which all three of us happened to be in the way of. A sea of green crashed towards me—a pack of six to eight goblins, all desperate to escape. I moved quickly to the side, I was not about to get in the way. LeBron however was not as wise as I was, he'd never seen goblins before and didn't understand, the last thing you wanted to do was get in one's way when it was fleeing. He stepped in front of the last one and looked down at it. "What the hell is this ugly thing?" The goblins face turned from scared to angry very quickly, it slashed its long needle like fingers through the flesh of his ankle. It was deep and it brought him crashing to the floor. The goblin leapt at him. LeBron flayed about trying to get it off him while the goblin rode his chest, one hand balled in his shirt like a handle on a bucking bronco at an amusement park. "Jesus, Michael,” I cried out. I could use magic but I would have risked hitting him with the same spell. Instead, I'd have to be heroic. The goblin raised its free hand to make a swipe at LeBron's face. I reached out, grabbing its wrist. The flesh was cold and clammy but the pulse was alive and hot, beating like the wings of a kingfisher trapped under the skin. I pulled hard and with all my strength, I'd either pull it off or dislocate its petite shoulder, either way, it was not going to hurt anyone. The goblin looked back at me with surprise, surprised that I would dare. I kept pulling and it made a howling pain sound. It had to make a choice, lose its arm or stop attacking LeBron. It came up in the air, its other hand gripped around my wrist, but its fingers were so long they could only dig into its own flesh. It brought its feet up placing them on my elbow and began to try to pull its arm out of my grip. Its skin was slippery but I managed to hold onto it, the only thing it could do next would be bite me and I wasn't about to let it do that. I walked through the open door of the bedroom, grabbed the door of a wardrobe, and threw it inside. Luckily, it was an older style wardrobe that locked with a key. The door shuddered as it bounced its body against it, but it was made of good quality wood and wasn't going to break easily. As the slight panic that had given me a burst of adrenaline began to fade, the smell came back to me so much stronger than before. I can count the number of bodies I'd seen on one hand and I was trying to keep it that way. But even the one previous body I'd seen before this, hadn't prepared me for what I saw this time. A man and a woman lay in the massive bed before me. The man had a look of pure shock or terror in his eyes. They were wide open, staring at the ceiling. His brown hair was short and scruffy and he hadn't shaved for a couple of days before he'd died. He was only partially covered by the white linen sheet stained in blood. Boxers and a t-shirt covered him in places that skin now did not. The goblins had found two dead bodies and seen what goblins always see, meat. They'd cleaned down to the bone of his exposed leg and begun on the soft flesh of his belly. The woman that lay in his arms was blonde, her eyes were closed like she was sleeping. You could only see she was dead by the fact that half her once pretty face was a gaping wound edged by teeth marks. Her right forearm was above the sheet, it had been torn off at the elbow leaving the joint sticking out of the decomposing flesh. The man was a pale grey yellow but the woman a darker grey. She'd been dead the longest.

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"Move over, Cassandra, he wants to see what's in here?” said Magnus from behind me. He was supporting a hobbling LeBron with his arm under Michael's, which meant he really needed a doctor. "You need seeing to,” I said, more concerned that he might lose his foot if the goblin's claws had gone too deep. "Later. I want to see what we have..." I didn't argue as I knew as soon as he saw them, he wouldn't want to stay and he'd go to a doctor nice and peaceable. He stared at them and turned his head. He pulled away from Magnus and, using the doorframe for support, he dropped to his knees and threw up in the corridor. Magnus slid an arm under LeBron's again, helping him back up to his feet and patting the grown man on the back like he was a boy. "Come on, kid, let's get you outside for some fresh air,” said Magnus. LeBron was obviously feeling a little too worse for wear to be offended by the tiny bit of patronising I heard in Magnus's voice. It was like he'd expected me to throw up—the girl, the civilian, not the cop. We moved to the top of the stairs and froze dead. Benjamin stood on the first floor, his gun pointed at all three of us. "All right you three, hold it right there. I knew you couldn't resist this, Cassandra, so now you're in real trouble. Hands up,” he bellowed. Magnus looked at me questioning what we should do. LeBron was hurt, if we argued, he'd stay hurt and maybe even get an infection. With a full unit call out, there would be ambulance and forensics, both would be useful. "Do as the nice man with the gun says." And slowly, I raised my hands. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-three Magnus and LeBron got off easy. They went outside to sit in a nice, happy, healthy ambulance. Benjamin had forced me to sit in the room with him and Rourke. while Dr Cameron and his crew went over every last tiny inch of the scene. Both of them had their back to me. I was as close to the door and as far away from both of the nasty smells as I could manage. A young technician, dressed in a shiny boiler suit that made him look vaguely like a potato awaiting a BBQ, headed for the locked wardrobe. I spoke for the first time since Benjamin had pointed a gun at me. "I wouldn't open that if I were you,” I said as a warning. He looked at me and stopped. Rourke turned around to look at me along with Benjamin, neither looked vaguely happy that I'd decided to finally chime in.

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"And why not?” barked Benjamin. "Goblin,” I said flatly, as if I said it every day. He gave me a look, that simply meant he thought I was making fun of him. "Goblin, really?" "Yes. Green, little, vicious, like Martians on speed, and ugly. Goblin." Smug and now really thinking I was taking the piss, he moved towards the wardrobe. The minute he touched the handle, the goblin smelt him and threw itself against the wood, making him move back. "I told you,” I said, in a little singsong voice. "Why should I have believed you?" "Why would I bother to lie to you? Everyone knows you only lie to people who matter." He growled at me like he'd quite like to hurt me. Punch me, kick me—anything to vent his humiliation and rage. Benjamin was a big man. I didn't want any of that really aimed at me but I didn't like him, and I found it so hard to be nice to people I didn't like. He took a step towards me, so Rourke put her hand out pressing it against his advancing shoulder. "Don't! One more mark and you're on automatic suspension, you know that,” she said gruffly. He changed the direction of his body and stormed out the door. He'd go find someone else to bully, someone who sure as hell wouldn't press charges. Rourke sighed and looked down at me. "Why do you bait him?” she asked, exhausted with us both. "Why does he make it so easy?” I replied. She shook her head, looking at me as if we were squabbling kids. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to handle children, so she changed the subject. "You've got PC. LeBron in a lot of trouble here, Farbanks." "Leave Michael alone! He knew I had the information on this lead and that you didn't want it followed up. He's not stupid, he could tell soon after meeting me I was going to ignore you, so he kept an eye on me. He was about to do what Benjamin did when the goblins attacked." She gave me a suspicious look as I'd called LeBron by his first name, and even she probably didn't remember his first name and she'd hired him. "He might not walk properly again,” she said, trying to make me feel guilty. I did, but there was no way in hell I was going to give her the satisfaction of knowing it. "It beats the hell out of getting his face torn off, which he might have if I hadn't stopped it,” I came back with instead.

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Rourke looked at me hard but I gave her nothing. She knew I was covering his ass but she had no proof either way. I'd already told him I'd take care of things. I could pretty much count on him being the kind of man that would keep his mouth shut until he knew what to say. Rourke took a defiant stance. "You're not getting off lightly then, young lady. I've got you breaking and entering." I smiled. "Entering, yes, but the door downstairs was open. You can tell I didn't force the lock, so the most you've got, is that I found two dead people following a lead you didn't want to touch. That puts me firmly in the witness box, not the defendant's." "You magicked it,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at me. "Prove it." I leaned away from the wall, she wasn't the only one who could do defiant. There was no way she could prove it unless she hired a psychic, and even if Rourke had the inclination, she wouldn't know where to find one. She stared down at me very pissed off. "You're off the case,” she growled crossly. "I'm not one of your little peons, Rourke, I'm not working for you,” I fought back. She could cut me off, not have my advice, and run herself right back into the little hole she'd been in, before I dropped this lead in her lap. "No, but this is now an official line of enquiry and you're not going to have any more to do with it. If I find you have, you can kiss your little consultancy fee goodbye." "If you knew how much the vampires are paying me, you'd know exactly where you could shove your consultancy fee, right up your..." I stopped as I saw the flicker of a pale trench coat come into the room. Rourke turned her head to look too. He was tall—taller than Rourke, taller than any man I'd met, he was like a giant. His suit was remarkably well-tailored, a rich shade of brown. His tie was dark red and his shoes shone. It was the shine of a man who took his job very seriously. He looked like a cop, but smelt like bad cologne and the atmosphere of a cheap bar. Rourke looked at him completely unfriendly, so who ever this was, she hated him with a steely coldness. "Hamilton? What the hell do you think you're doing here?” she asked. He looked at her and gave her a full dazzling smile, the kind of smile that you expected to be accentuated with a ping sound and a star. Something told me he was far too charming to ever be liked. "Sam, two dead bodies, you know that you're supposed to call homicide, bad girl,” he said. His voice was light and playful. Rourke grumbled harshly. “It's connected to my case, Hamilton, it was at my discretion whether or not I called you,” she said, folding her arms.

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"How is this connected to your strange, undead dead body in Bell Square?” he asked. "It just is, so you can back off." That was the worst argument I'd ever heard from Rourke. No wonder he didn't listen. He moved passed her and was surveying the two dead in the bed. The sheet had been moved to show the full extent of the damage done to the bodies. "Mary, Jesus, and all her wacky nephews—are those teeth marks. What the hell did it?” asked the man she'd identified as Hamilton. Rourke re-folded her arms. Apparently he wasn't going to leave until he got a satisfactory explanation, as to why this wasn't anything to do with him. "Apparently it was goblins, but Cameron's not come up with a full COD for either vic yet,” explained Rourke, but her voice betrayed that she didn't really believe the explanation either. "Goblins? And who told you that, the tooth fairy?” he chuckled. "We're currently consulting with a witch on the case." My ears perked up. Hello, was I suddenly back to being involved here? A minute ago, she was threatening to kick me out with a huge metaphorical boot. Hamilton reached into his pocket and pulled out a little notebook, which he held a little too close to his face. It denoted that he probably needed glasses, but didn't have them because it would ruin his charming flawless profile. "Yes, a Miss Farbanks? I'd like to talk to her when it's convenient." Rourke sighed heavily, admitting defeat she turned to look back at me. "Is it convenient?” she asked. I pulled myself up to my feet. "I suppose,” I replied. Hamilton turned around and looked at me. I wasn't exactly small, but next to Rourke, I felt short, next to this guy, I felt vaguely dwarfish. He had to be at least six-five. He looked at me from head to toe and I watched his smile get wider. "You're Farbanks?” he asked. I nodded and he chuckled. "Sorry it's just that I expected somebody different, older." "And I expected manners. I guess we're both a little disappointed." He was still smiling but it no longer went into his eyes. He could keep smiling even though he'd just been insulted, but he couldn't keep his real emotions out of his eyes. They were deep blue like the colour of the sea after heavy rain, and right now it was crashing against the rocks like in a mighty storm. I smiled. He

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came closer, meaning to intimidate me and he might have done so, if his eyes hadn't have dropped to my half-unzipped jacket. Benjamin had searched me and I'd kneed him in the crotch for squeezing my ass. I reached my hand out and his face followed it up. "I'm up here, DI Hamilton,” I said, and while his eyes were on mine, I zipped the jacket back up to the neck. "How do you know I'm a DI?” he asked. "Because anyone of lower rank than Rourke would have been told to piss off by now, and really important people don't do field work. That puts you at about the DI line, wouldn't you say?" "You're smarter than you look,” he said. "Don't judge me by the shorts, they weren't my choice either." His full smile returned to his face again, like he'd decided that actually, he rather liked me. "So tell me, little witch.” He started to move towards the locked wardrobe. “Does the tooth fairy exist? The Easter bunny? Santa?” He was chuckling all the time as he tested the door handle, finding it locked. "Not that I know of,” I said honestly. He laughed and turned the key in the lock. Rourke and I exchanged a look that simply said, I'm not going to tell him if you don't. The door smacked back against him knocking him to the floor. The goblin leapt from the wardrobe onto his stomach, he looked up at it and I watched his eyes go wide. It searched the room and picked me out, it was mad. It had been locked in a box for over an hour and I'd done it, so I had to pay. It came charging at me, screeching madly. "Oh hell,” I shouted. Rourke went for her gun but I was quicker. I raised my hands and focused. "Up,” I demanded. Rourke stepped back as my magic stretched out around the charging green fury and pulled it off its feet, so it was hovering, unable to run anymore. It started trying to swim through the air towards me. DI Hamilton had made it to his knees and was going for his gun too. I curved my hands so that I drove the swimming goblin into the wall. "I call upon you Kali, Goddess of many arms." The police around me all stopped to watch. I was vaguely aware that I created an aura around me when I did magic. "Kali, lend me your arms in the image of stone." The wall began to protrude as columns of stone pushed out from its surface, they flexed and hands uncurled themselves to wrap their granite fingers around the creature's wrists and ankles. It struggled for a little while, but let out a defeated wail and was still. "Christ, what is that?” asked DI Hamilton, holstering his weapon.

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"That, DI Hamilton, is a goblin." He smiled at me slightly impressed. “Call me Paris." "Thanks for the offer, Detective Inspector, but I'd like to keep this professional." I moved towards the goblin and it looked at me swearing in its goblinish tongue. "Stop that,” I said to it. “You're going to talk to me now, do you hear?" It continued its goblinish ranting, spitting foul smelling saliva and breath at me. "I know you understand me, you vile little thing and I bet you know English, enough to speak it, if only a little." It stuck its tongue out at me, shaking its head and hissing like a cat. "Perhaps LeBron was right and you're just a stupid, ugly..." I didn't need to finish my sentence, it started screeching at me swiping its fingers but it couldn't reach me. "Now I know you understand me." It looked at me, its black pearl eyes angry but defeated. "Stupid witch, you know not so much,” it croaked. Its voice was as slimy sounding as it was and incredibly hate filled. Rourke and Hamilton were a little thrown back, when this podgy green thing spoke back to me but I kept my eyes locked on it. "What were you doing here?" "Feeding, we find your meat tastes—” It licked its fat green lips with its putrid yellow tongue. “—good." I forced the hands holding it to squeeze tighter with a clench of my fist, he squealed most satisfactorily. "How'd you get in?" "The lady opened an old hole they'd covered over. She told us there was a yummy meal waiting." "What lady?" "The killing lady. She told us if we gobbled them all up, she'd bring us more from the market,” it cackled. Once it got going, it seemed it liked to talk. But that rang a bell in my head. "The Soul Market?” I asked. The goblin smiled and stopped talking to me. It wasn't going to say anything else to me. I stood up turning my back to it, it was the second time I'd heard mention of this market. I was going to have to find

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out more. Rourke looked at me, her gun still in her hand. "What do we do with it?” she asked. "It's vermin, Rourke. Kill it." I walked out of the room. I'd told her what to do, what should be done, but I didn't want to watch. I even felt a shiver when I heard the gunshot. Hamilton came out after me. He stopped me on the stairs with a light touch of his hand on my arm. He produced a business card forcing it into my hand. "If I ever get strangeness at a crime scene, I'm going to call you." I put the card in my pocket, reluctantly gave him a weak smile and headed down the stairs. I moved around the corner but didn't go down as I heard Rourke's voice, quiet—quieter than I'd known possible. But then, you always speak low when you're about to hash up personal business. "You can't have her, Paris,” she hissed. "Departments share resources all the time, Sam,” he retorted. "That's not what I meant and you know it." He chuckled like the lethario he was. "I've heard a lot about her, much prettier than I was given the impression of and fiery." "You can't have her,” repeated Rourke. "Sam, honey, I can have who I want when I want." "She's a kid, someone like you won't do her any good, she's already into bad stuff." I was a little bit offended at being called a kid and was a little surprised that Rourke put magic down as ‘bad stuff.' "Do I come under the category of ‘bad stuff’ now, Sam? Or is this jealousy because I had you and got bored of you." "You're an asshole,” she seethed. "And you used to love that." He started coming down the stairs. I moved quickly down the flight I was on and out the door. I moved to stand over by the car as he came shooting out. As he passed me, he gave me a wink and headed to a car that looked like it was waiting for him. I wanted to hex him right then and there, but hexing was verging very much on the dark and there was no way—even at the very edge of the wizard community—that I'd get away with it. Enforcers monitor for things like hexes, it comes with a pretty hefty fine.

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Magnus was standing at the end of the wall next to the bins, he gave me a soft wave and a warm smile. I walked over to him. "What happened to LeBron?” I asked, not seeing him anywhere. "He got a nice little trip to the hospital, they're having a doctor look at his ankle,” said Magnus. "At least he's getting it treated properly." I touched my side. I'd had to deal with my goblin injury on my own. I couldn't even think of a way to explain a mark like that to my doctor. "Let's get out of here,” I said. I'd had enough of this place and these people. "They're not charging you?” said Magnus, a little too surprised. "With what?” I said defensively. “They have no proof that the door wasn't open when we got here, so let's go while the going's good." We moved to his car, which still had Benjamin's squad car parked behind it. His passenger side door was ajar and my bag was on the floor. "What happened?” I asked, pulling my bag back up onto the seat. "DS Hodgeson made me give him all your papers on the missing woman. I'm sorry, he didn't give me much of a choice,” Magnus said apologetically. I rubbed my temples and sorted through my bag to make sure nothing else was missing. "It's all right. I've still got an address to use as a follow up. Let's try and do it quietly and without incident this time." Magnus drove us down to the show room at Diglis Water. It was the agency's biggest product at the moment and with his best sale person AWOL, I had the feeling the man I wanted would be there running it himself. The office out front was little more than a fairly medium-sized porter cabin. I went up the steps with Magnus at my back. Inside was fairly spacious, with an unmanned desk in front of the door, photographs and sketches of the properties developed and in development, were mounted on the walls. There were some chairs and a coffee table as well in front of a back office. Magnus and I were drawn to pictures either side so when a figured emerged from the office, he had a choice who to go to. He chose Magnus. "Hello there, Ernest P Wells, pleased to meet you and thank you for showing an interest in our new top of the line, luxury apartments." He extended his hand to Magnus who shook it firmly; it was a well-rehearsed sales opening if I'd ever heard one. He was a dumpy man in a blue checked shirt, with no tie, and his hair was black, slicked back with some sort of wax. He was friendly looking, like a giant teddy bear with the hair all over his arms and hands, and with rounded fingers that were most paw like. Ernie turned his head to look at me. "And what a lovely girlfriend you have,” he said, admiring me almost like I was one of the pictures on the wall.

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"She is lovely.” Magnus smiled. “But she's not my girlfriend." "And we're not here about the houses either, Ernie,” I said. He looked at me, a little worried that I'd called him by his nickname. I was still fighting the blush at having been called lovely twice. "Then how can I help?” he said tentatively. I pulled the dictaphone out of my pocket. I'd slotted the answer machine tape in on the drive down. I played him the first message. "That's me all right,” he said, as if it were some sort of a great confession. “Is something wrong with Jane?" "We don't know, we can't find her,” I said. “Did you know her husband had reported her missing?" "Yeah, about a month ago. I'd sent her out of town last minute on business. I think she forgot to tell him or something, but the real panic began a couple of weeks ago when she found him with another woman,” said Ernie, diving into what could have been just malicious gossip. "Another woman?” I asked, to be sure. Magnus and I looked at each other. Did this mean, the woman that was in the bed with Jane's husband this morning had not been Jane. "Uh huh, tore her up, she threw him out. I told her she could take some time but she didn't want it,” he said, sounding like a very caring boss. “Came in for a couple of days, then stopped. I called and called but got nothing. Did that bastard do something to Jane?” His fist clenched at his sides. "Is Jane's husband about six-two with brown hair?” I asked, relaying the description of the man that we'd found in their bed not too long ago. "Yeah, that sounds like Tom,” he said. Tom and Jane, they were beginning to sound a bit like one of those learn-to-read books I'd had as a child. Tom and Jane are married, Tom cheated on Jane, Jane got a little kill happy. Perhaps. "Then no, it appears Tom has been dead for about two weeks,” I stated blankly. I knew I probably shouldn't have told him, as I wasn't the cops and I didn't care if he was a potential suspect. Ernie didn't sit so much as collapse into the nearest chair. It seemed like such a severe reaction for someone who a moment ago was calling him a bastard. "Are you police?” he asked. I thought, uh oh, time to bend the truth again. "I'm a consultant on the case but I'm also in the middle of my own investigation as it were. What can you tell us about Jane?"

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He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped it along his brow. "She's always been my best sales associate. I trusted her. I even let her come out here to run this project solo with that stupid, bimbo assistant of hers." "Assistant?" I looked at the empty desk that had been in front of me on the way in, he pointed to a single photo frame on the desk. I walked over and turned the picture around. It was a young blonde woman, with her arms around a man who looked like he should be her father. Whether he was or not was another matter. "Carolyn Danvers—nineteen, no IQ, and into crazy parties,” said Ernie, rattling it off like it was written on her CV or something. Carolyn Danvers apart from the long blonde hair was pretty and petite; I showed the picture to Magnus. He swallowed hard. "Did Carolyn and Jane get along well?” I asked, putting the picture back down on the desk. "I think so. I mean, Jane did get a little pissed when she took vacation time last month without notice. But Jane warned her and she showed up to work for a whole week, before Jane fired her.” Ernie looked at me, taking in my appearance more carefully and his eyes fell on my empty hands. I raised my eyebrows and wondered if Ernie was wondering why I wasn't writing any of this down. Notes meant something for Rourke to use against me, if she'd really been serious about me not helping anymore. "Jane fired her. Did she say why?” I asked, trying to keep this conversation from spiralling southwards. "No. I came in to check on her one day, she said she'd just fired Carolyn when I asked where she was. When I asked how she was, all this stuff about Tom came out. Then, nothing. You don't think Jane killed Tom for cheating on her, do you?” Ernie's voice wobbled. "That's a bit of a leap to take, do you think she's capable?" "That's a hard one to answer,” he said sniffing. “Jane was capable of a lot once she'd put her mind to it, and people can do crazy things when they're upset." He looked at me with big eyes, hoping I could say something to ease his mind. I know he was feeling like he should have done something more, been a better boss, a better friend. "I can't really say what happened at the moment. But did her weird behaviour start about two weeks ago?" "Yeah, just about,” he confirmed. "Thank you, just a couple more questions and I'll be on my way. Is there anywhere else in town she could be staying?" "Not that I know of,” he said with a shrug. "She had access to keys for all your properties across the Worcester city area, didn't she? Could she

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have perhaps gone to stay in one of them?" He thought about it for a moment. "I do remember those couple of days she was in, that she made a key request. She had our smith make her a new one, for an apartment down by the river. Said she'd lost the key at home and had a showing." I smiled; it was typical of people to use the resources we had at hand to our advantage. "I'd like the address of the apartment please." He nodded, slowly rising from his seat, he went to the computer in his office and a minute later, brought me a print out with an address on it. "Here. If you find Jane, go easy on her, I think she's been having a rough time." I gave him a gentle nod, but I couldn't guarantee I'd go easy on her if she didn't go easy on me. "What was your other question? You said you wanted to ask a couple." "Yes. What kind of parties did you say Carolyn went to?” It was only a minor interest but sometimes it's the little things that make sense of the big ones. "Tripped out ones, thrown by outcast witches and wizards, all dark and orgy like,” he said disgusted. “She loved to talk about them." I thanked him again, walking in silence back to Magnus’ car. I leaned back against the passenger seat while he climbed in. "You recognised her, didn't you?” I asked him. "Yes, something like that doesn't go away from you so easily, she was the woman from the bed." I nodded and watched his hands grip tight on the steering wheel. I'd been so callous. Magnus had been right there too, seen it and I'd not even bothered to ask him how he felt. He was a normal guy, he didn't really live all the way in my world. "Are you all right? I should have asked earlier but I'm a clod." He looked at me, nodded his head and then shook it. His dark, shiny blonde hair fell over his face as he pressed his forehead to the top of the wheel. "I don't know. I've not seen a dead person before, not like that, not killed and—” he stopped himself from going into too much detail. “I'm also worried about what the hell kind of person has my sister, and a little about how easily this stuff comes to you." "What do you mean stuff?" I bit my tongue softly to control myself. I was pretty sure I was about to be offended. "Dead people, crazy goblins, breaking and entering, lying to the police and still doing a much better job

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than them,” he said. I snorted a little laugh and he rolled his eyes at me. "I don't know how I do it,” I admitted. “I just do. If it's going to bother me, it can bother me later when I have time.” Add onto that the fact that I'd been living within the boundaries of this kind of life for three years, give or take. "You must be a lot stronger than I am.” He reached around the wheel and started the car. "Oh, I don't know,” I said lightly. “I think if you tried, you could take me." He blushed. It looked quite red in his tanned skin and he smiled at least. "It's not the strength I meant, but you're still right." I raised an eyebrow and laughed as he laughed and both of us felt better. Too much gloom could do a person in, not physically but emotionally. The physical didn't matter so much when you'd given up on the inside. Magnus snatched the print out from my hand pressing flat against the wheel so he could read it. "So this is where we're heading next?” he asked. "Uh huh, if you've got access to such resources you use them." "Not to say I doubt you or anything, but this kind of looks like an angry wife that killed her husband and his lover, then ran off,” he said, unconvinced. "She's definitely gone to a lot of trouble to make it look that way. But there is definitely something else going on here." "To do with this Soul Market?” he asked. Those ears really must pick up a lot. I didn't remember telling him about it. "Must be. It's been mentioned to me twice, but I as yet don't have a single clue what it is, where it is, or how boring middle-aged estate agents suddenly get all that power." "You think we'll find anything at this apartment she made an extra key for?” he asked, and I shrugged. "If she's been using it as a place to stay, we might find something." "And something would be good?" "If it leads us to where Bethany and the others are, then yes, it'd be good." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-four

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We drove over to the apartment, which was on the corner of Bridge Street and New Road. It was one of three up for sale and none of them looked remotely appealing from the outside. Magnus couldn't park near where it was, so he did a second circuit on the one-way system. He dropped me off and went to make use of his parking spot, at the Swan Theatre. He was the manager there most days, but he had a lower down covering for him while he took this time off. I really had to find a way to thank him for dropping everything to help. I'd made a point that I had in no way encouraged him to bunk off work and he'd just laughed, saying he'd had holiday owing him anyway. I went through the gate up to what looked like a normal front door. It had a glass pane in the top half, the white paint was flaking and the letterbox was just a hole. It looked as if the metal flap had been pried off. The door wasn't even locked so I went inside. The hallway was dark and cramped, with nothing but call buttons for each flat and the stairs with which you'd get there. I took a look at the names under the buttons—Nikki French, Maggie French, Dawn French. All of them with the last name French, but strangely, I'm pretty sure they weren't related. I started up the stairs veering as a grumpy, grey haired man in a suit barged past me. I looked up to the small landing in front of me, and a woman was standing there, pressing a cigarette to her lips. She stared down at me, with eyes over done with mascara, dark rings forming underneath and a blue shadow above that was completely wrong for her skin type. She had short red hair that you could tell from the roots had once been blonde. Her lipstick was a dirty pink and was smeared all over the end of the cigarette, which she clenched between nicotine stained teeth as she adjusted the synthetic, imitation silk, dressing gown she wore to make it tighter. It barely made it to her knees. After she spoke, I realised that I'd been staring. "If you're looking for someone who does the kink, you want six-B,” she said. Her voice was raspy, no doubt damaged from the amount of cigarettes she went through on a daily basis. I looked at her, puzzled for a minute, and then I got what she was offering. "Um, no thanks. I'm just visiting my cousin, brunette, yeah, tall, goes by Jane." I used my hand to demonstrate her height, the woman nodded. "Yeah, posh knickers who lives in four A. I've seen her come and go with all sorts. You're not planning on working then, while you're in town?" "I don't do your sort of work,” I said, slightly offended. She looked me up and down, then I realized why, I'd forgotten what I was wearing. "Really? Could have fooled me?" I moved up the stairs to the landing. "Just ‘cause I have nice legs doesn't mean I sell what's in between them." I'd expected her to get offended or maybe go back inside but she stayed there giving me a wistful shrug. "I've heard ‘em all, love. Don't bother me. You'd do well though, so if you ever get stuck for money, you can come back." "Thanks but no thanks." I carried on up the stairs. On the door behind her, it said 2A, which meant 4A had to be up two flights

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of stairs. The downstairs door opened and closed, footsteps pounded on the stairs. Magnus had stopped by the appearance of the woman from 2A. I rounded back down the stairs, she was reaching up to touch his face and he didn't know whether to let her touch him or not. I quickly bounded back down the stairs and I took hold of his hand. "Did you park the car alright, honey?" Magnus looked at me and her hand froze. I looked at the woman from 2A. "Sorry, ‘love,’ this one's mine." I pulled Magnus out of the vixen's grip and made him follow me up the stairs. I slid his arm around my waist, his grip on my waist was firm enough to pull me an inch or so closer into his side. This time, I heard the door of 2A slam. Magnus had slid down from my waist to my bottom and I had to look up at him. "Magnus!” I said, not sure whether to be outraged or amused. "In for a penny, in for a pound,” he said with a smile. "She's not watching anymore, you're safe." He moved his hands away from me and put them back into his pockets, but he couldn't hide the sly grin on his face. He walked slightly behind me the rest of the way up to 4A. There was nothing special looking about 4A. It was bland, just like every other door and wall we'd passed on the way up here. The place was so generic it could have been anywhere. "So this is it? I wouldn't have thought of looking for her here,” I said. "I think that's the point of lying low,” chuckled Magnus. I put my hand to the lock and felt a sharp prick in my hand that started crawling up my arm. I moved it away quickly, trying to shake it off, because this time the door had been magically secured. "I'm going to have to ask you to do something terribly masculine and kick the door in." He looked at me flexing my hand—this spell was like an extreme case of pins-and-needles. If you weren't strong enough, your entire arm could go numb and dead. "What about the lock?” he asked. "I can fix the door but I can't break the lock." He moved me to one side and shoved his foot firmly into the wood, which splintered under the pressure, sending the door flying back into the room beyond. The modest one bedroom came furnished, which was impressive, considering how little had been asked for it, but then again, considering the neighbours. I went in first checking to make sure nobody was home and we wouldn't set off any magical booby traps. The place was clean and barely lived in, but it was lived in. There was a magazine on the table, food in the fridge and clothes in the bedroom. If the goblin hadn't ended up in the wardrobe, I might have checked to see if some of her clothes were missing but the built in wardrobe in this bedroom was half-full. A lot of the clothes were brand new and a lot more risqué

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than anything an estate agent would normally wear. Some of it was darn right revealing. Magnus sat down on the couch, watching the ajar door in case of trouble while I did a search of the bedroom. I was a woman so therefore, it was all right for me to rifle through her things. Almost everything she had was brand new, except at the back of a draw there was a battered old makeup bag. It was a rustic cream and brown that looked like it had seen some real years of wear and tear. It must have sentimental value, I found myself thinking as I pulled at the zip. The bag was filled with photo IDs. All of them women, all of them above average on the pretty scale, and I hesitated a guess that they were all missing or dead. At the very top of the stack was the ID for Jane from her work badge and Carolyn Danvers driver's licence. It struck me as odd that Jane would collect IDs or that she'd add her own to it, it was more like the keepsakes of a serial killer. It was a horrible thought. Jane struck me as many things, but a murderer wasn't one of them. There wasn't a single man among the bunch, so why had Tom been killed? You don't deviate from a type of behaviour unless you're forced to. I looked at the two IDs in my hand; Jane was alive but Carolyn was not. Did Jane's ID mean it was only a matter of time until she was dead too? Then it hit me and I knew exactly what was wrong with Jane. I marched quickly back through the apartment, Magnus moved quickly after me. "What's going on?” he asked. "I think I'm going to have to do something I never thought I'd do." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-five Later, I stormed into Dante's at six o'clock, an hour after sundown, as mad as hell because I'd promised myself I would be. It was also fuelled by the fact that two cars had slowed down to ask me my hourly rates. A few waiters were setting up booths, they whispered among themselves as I went past, but none of them dared to stop me. Most people know if you see a bull charging, you don't jump in its path wearing red. I pushed open the doors to the back, took the steps and angled my body in a direct line, for what I now knew was Aram's bedroom door. I shoved it open with all my might and listened to the satisfying thud as it hit the wall. I stared at the empty room, thinking for a moment that perhaps he wasn't there, that all my energy had been wasted. When I heard running water from the bathroom. I dropped my bag and marched towards the bathroom door. "Aram, you son of a bitch, get out here,” I yelled. The water stopped and the door lock clicked, he pulled it open inwards and came out surrounded by clouds of steam. He was nude from the waist up, the bottom half of him squeezed into a tight pair of dark black Levi's. The towel around his neck was blood red, which accentuated his natural highlights. His stomach was a tight bunch of muscle and his chest showed a tiny pink flush from having taken blood. A single drop of water splashed down from his hair and trailed down his body, and I watched it until it reached his navel. Stop it, I told myself, you're mad at him. I unzipped the jacket quickly and threw it onto the couch without looking. "What do you call this?” I gave him a little spin so he could see it all. “Well!" "You look fabulous,” he said, with a smile.

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"Do you know how many times I've had to defend my honour today? I'll tell you—three, twice in the last half hour. What the hell happened to my jeans, my wallet and my keys?” I demanded. He just stood there smiling at me. "What the hell is so funny?" "I smile, Andra, because you look good yet are so mad. Doesn't she look good, brother?" My entire body went tense as I turned to the couch where Jareth was lounging, my jacket sprawled over his stomach. "She does indeed look most pleasing, but I do prefer the dramatics without any reference to our mother." I turned to look at Jareth as I felt the flush crawling up my face as I reached for my jacket. Aram's fingers danced over my waist, it was enough of a shock that I fell back against him as I tried to stay standing up. "I only chose clothes you already owned,” he said. "They were parts of old Halloween costumes, not meant for sober day wear,” I said, suddenly more embarrassed than angry. "I was not to know. I went with what choice I was offered. There are so many other things I would prefer to dress you in.” His voice went lower, deeply sultry. “Or undress you out of." I shoved Aram hard. His quiet, sultry voice was making shivers skate over my flesh. I lost my balance and fell onto the couch backwards. Jareth grunted with the sudden weight of me on top of him. I rolled my eyes back and looked at him. "I'm sorry." "First your jacket, now you, what else will you drop in my lap tonight?" His tone was neutral but his eyes weren't and he was getting an eyeful of cleavage. I scurried to my feet taking my jacket with me. "Look, I just want my clothes from yesterday and my stuff. I don't feel right dressed like this." Aram sighed and waved his hand like I was being absurd. "The top was ruined by coffee when the woman crashed through, and your jeans are at your apartment.” He turned to a box on the dresser. “And the other things you mentioned have not left the room." He opened the lid and I could see both were delicately placed inside. I snatched at them trying to stay mad, but he was being so rational, it was hard. The door closed and it was Magnus who'd closed it. He'd only left me to go park his car somewhere a bit closer to the club. He was being sweet as he knew I hated walking anywhere in this outfit. Aram glared at him. "Sorry,” he said, not meaning it.

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"Ignore it. So what do I owe you for breakfast?” I offered, now that I had my wallet in my hands. He shook his head. “On me,” he said. "You sure?" He nodded. I shrugged, fiddling with my jacket to get my wallet into the inside pocket. Aram made a small growling sound and his left fang appeared over his bottom lip. "What's wrong now?” I asked. "He took you to breakfast,” he growled. “It's so outlandish. It's almost a date." Aram looked cross, but Magnus just stood there sort of pleased with himself. "It was not and when you can get up for breakfast, I'll gladly let you do the same." He took the towel from around his neck, wrung it so that it twisted tight and he stormed back into the bathroom, slamming the door. Jareth sat up a little straighter, adjusting his shirt he leaned on the back of the couch. "Cassandra, you really mustn't tease him. Now come over here, sit down, and tell me why you deliberately disobeyed my command to stay here." I was surprised when I moved to the other end of the couch and sat down. I'd obeyed him when I damn well didn't have to. "You don't tell me what to do, Jareth, and it's a damn good thing I went out. I found out a ton of stuff today." "Some of it, we didn't want to find.” Magnus chimed in, leaning against the back of the couch. Jareth seemed to watch him very carefully. "What did you find?” Jareth asked. "Two dead bodies. Not the best start to the day. How much did Aram tell you last night?" Jareth rolled his eyes back to me. “You had found a match in a missing person's file for the woman who we are to believe is behind the disappearances." His eyes were intense so I stared down at my lap and twiddled my thumbs as I talked. "Right, we went to her address only to find her husband and her assistant two weeks dead in their bed. I finally got through to the coroner and he told me that the cause of death for the man was a knife wound. It had severed the brain stem causing instant death, but the woman, all her internal organs had died and melted and he could find no scientific reason for it." "And he just gives you this information?” asked Jareth.

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"The guy's a vampire nut, ‘the how and why of’ nut,” I admitted. “He wants an interview with a vampire. I told him you'd arrange something." I fished around in my pocket for where I'd written down his home number and handed it to Jareth. "I will find a volunteer,” he said, without so much as a trace of annoyance. “Continue." "Well, I've been thinking that the woman's death, sounds a bit like a possession case I read about in a magazine. I think it started in the assistant and jumped ship into Jane, when it had used the body up. I can't yet figure out why or what it's got to do with missing vampires, werewolves, and elves but it's only a working theory." "And we talked to her boss.” said Magnus. "Yes, he said Carolyn—that's the assistant—liked to go to these wild parties with tripped out witches and wizards, she could have picked up whoever it is there." Jareth was no longer looking at me if he was even listening. I turned my head back to look at Magnus. He was twirling the end of my ponytail around his fingers smiling quite dreamily. "I believe, elf, that your interest in Cassandra has grown beyond our business,” said Jareth suddenly. My mouth dropped and Jareth turned his gaze to me as Magnus tried to stammer a response. "You did not notice." I couldn't think of anything to say, every word I tried stopped in my throat as if from cowardice and ran the other way. The bathroom door burst open again, although Aram had been having a sulk, but he'd been listening. "Was this morning a date?” he asked again. We both ignored him, so he strutted forward. "Answer me, half-breed." Magnus’ eye did that classic twitch like he didn't believe he'd just been called, what he hated to be called. Magnus smiled at him. "And what if it was?” he said, goading Aram. Aram fumed. In all his years of lusting after me, he'd never been challenged, and he must have real issues if he thought Magnus had the possibility to be successful where he had not. "I will not allow it,” he said. "Why? She's not your girlfriend, she said so herself,” stated Magnus. I was trying not to drown in the testosterone. "That does not mean you can waltz in here with your tan and your fleeting existence and take her,”

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growled Aram. "I'll do what I want, vampire, and by definition, you know you too are a half-breed,” said Magnus, letting just a little bit of anger into his voice. Aram tensed, the muscles in his arms tightened until he threw the towel that was still in his hand so it wrapped around Magnus’ face. "Oh that's it!” shouted Magnus. "A duel then, I accept,” said Aram, ready for a fight. "What are you on, Shakespeare? Pistols at dawn? I mean you, me—I'll knock your pretty face apart,” said Magnus, with confidence. I stood up between them and let them feel the edge of anger-fuelled power. "Enough! I am going to make this abundantly clear. I am not dating either of you currently, not while I'm working and hell, probably not even after, so act your sodding age.” I collapsed back onto the couch and looked at Jareth. “All this testosterone, how come it doesn't kill you all off?" "Unadulterated luck,” chuckled Jareth. I looked at Aram and Magnus who stood feet apart, but were still glaring at each other. I raised my hand at Aram. "You, go and put a shirt on its freezing in here and you—” I turned my finger on Magnus. “—can go sit in the car until we're all ready to go. Either calm down or go home. I don't care but I'm not having any more of this tonight." They sloped off in different directions and I was quietly seething, when Jareth put his hand on my arm. I jumped. "Come with me. Tarquin requested to see you when you returned. Aram can join you when he has calmed down,” he said, as calm and polite as ever. Aram made a grunting sound and I could hear the sound of half his clothes being thrown to the floor. I sometimes found it hard to believe that Aram had been alive for over five hundred years. Jareth escorted me into the hall, he was Aram's elder by ten years and he'd always conducted himself with a certain degree of dignity. "I find it puzzling,” he said, his back to me as he walked down the corridor in front of me. “That apart from me, you are the only one Aram seems to obey." "He's like a child, you just have to be firm with him. Why can't he be more of a grown up like you?” I asked. It wasn't a lot to ask, they weren't that far apart age wise. "Aram has always found it easier to change with the eras than I have, besides I'm not in love with you,” he said plainly. "Doesn't give him the right to be a jerk."

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"No." He seemed to agree with me, but it felt like he'd hoped for some sort of reaction to his reverse confession. He stopped in front of a door much further down under Dante's. He pushed the door open and waved me inside with a sweep of his arm. He started to close the door behind me. "You're not coming in with me?” I asked. "For all I know this is meant to be a private conversation. I will not be far if you want me." He closed the door and I was in darkness. I searched, finding a thin red light in front of me. I moved towards it, my hands outstretched until they touched curtains, which I pulled aside. The centre of the room was a bright, red-carpeted square. In the middle, on supports, sat an open coffin and in it, lay Sienna. Chairs were along certain edges of the carpet and there was a coffee table with reading material. I moved around the side of the coffin and saw Vincent, sitting next to where I'd come in, with Tarquin sleeping on his shoulder. "How is he?” I asked. "The blood letting knackers him, but he's doing better." Vincent moved, laying his brother's head down gently onto the seat, miraculously not waking him. He came to my side where I admired how perfect Sienna still looked. "What is this place?” I was just full of questions. "It's a chamber to bring the new vampires who have not risen yet, to be safe. People will sit with them until they wake,” said Vincent, happy to answer them. "Have you guys ever thought of that as bad. Waking up in a coffin can freak people out, even the newly undead." He smiled at me and it made him look young and somewhat more innocent than I knew he probably was. "I could suggest it, but you have the ear of the higher ups more than I do,” he said, with a strange little smile. "I see, there's a vampire pecking order." He nodded. "What did Tarquin want to see me about?" Vincent rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think he just wanted to know how close you were to finding who did this to the master and reversing it." "Close. I know I'm close every time this woman tries to hurt me."

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"I saw Aram carry you in last night, you looked near dead,” he said, his voice quivering a little with remembered concern. "Nah, just knocked out good and proper, still kind of embarrassing though,” I said, rubbing my hand along the back of my neck to warm the goose pimples that were beginning to form there. "You may think we are just meals to them, but feeding is something of a ritual, special, and we are deeply cared for,” said Vincent, touching Sienna's hand. "I got that. Tarquin and Sienna are lovers?" He laughed so suddenly, that I was a little taken back. "You leave me out of that equation so easily." "Sorry, are you?” I asked. "No, you're right, I like girl folk. But I do let him feed and it can be very arousing—but I've not hopped in the sack with a man—don't think I ever will." "He must have tried, I mean who could resist twins." Vincent chuckled. "We're the same but we're not the same, even if I was, say, bi-curious, I doubt I would get the same treatment as my brother." "Why not?" He stood back and made me take in his appearance. Everything he wore was dark or made of leather. "I'm the bad twin. I smoke, I swear, I drink, I do drugs, and I go to crazy wild parties. I hook up with loose women all the time." I nodded. I could believe it. I'd not seen him light up but he had smelt of tobacco when I'd first met him. Then my mind clicked over something he said. "What kind of parties?” I asked. "Wild." "How wild?” I probed deeper. He moved a little closer mistaking it for an interest in him. "Crazy, wild, miss-use of every kind,” he said, with a sexy lilt coming into his voice, as if he wanted to entice me to join him at the next one. "Magic miss-use?"

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"Yeah,” he nodded. “I've been to a few of those." "I need to know more about them." "Hang on. I've got a flyer somewhere." He patted down his pockets, pulling out several pieces of paper. He looked at each one until he found what he wanted. "Here you go, it's run by the guy at the bottom but I have no idea how to get in touch with him." I looked over the scrunched up piece of blue flyer paper, scanning over the writing until I came to the bottom. "I should have known. I know exactly where to find this particular low life,” I said, screwing the piece of paper back up. "You know him?” Vincent looked at me a little surprised. Here he'd been doing his whole ‘embrace the dark side’ routine and I was spoiling it. "Friend of a friend,” I admitted. "Well, colour me stunned.” He licked his lips. “There's a little bad in you." "Not yet, but I've had some close calls. Thanks for the flyer, I'll try to keep you updated." I headed off and he called after me. "I'm not normally into brunettes but your ass looks hot in those shorts." "Not a chance,” I yelled back. And he laughed. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-six Magnus was sitting in the driver's seat of his car, his hands on the wheel while looking moodily out through the windscreen at Aram relaxing against the bonnet. Aram had chosen a deep green shirt that was buttoned neatly to a wide expanse of neck and a slight frill to the cuffs. He was leant at an angle that would have made anyone else uncomfortable. He looked like he was waiting for one of the gaggle of giggly girls next to him, to take his picture. They were all dressed for clubbing, except they were wearing things that didn't cover their necks or wrists. They were looking to get bit. Stupid, silly girls. I pressed my jacket tighter around myself and marched down the steps. Aram was talking, all soft voiced and charmingly, making apologies for not being on rota again another night. He saw me approach and the look in his eyes changed, almost as if the emotions in them suddenly became real. The girls turned and I got the coldest of group stares. I stepped

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off the curb going around them to the passenger side. I stood with the door open ready to step in. "Dismiss the fan club, Aram, and get in the car or we'll go without you." I climbed into the front seat but hesitated with my hand on the handle. Aram stood, doing a long bow at the waist. "Who the hell is she anyway?” said one of the girls grouchily. "Ah, my princesses, she is my queen, queen of my heart,” he said, with all honesty. He should have lied to them. I slammed the car door quickly, getting the feeling they'd soon turn into a ravenous mob and pull me out of the car to fight me for him. He climbed in the back seat and they waved as we drove off. I looked at Aram in the review mirror. "Are you trying to get me lynched? I do not want to end up on the business end of your fan club's foul mood,” I said. "They know what goes on inside the club is only a fantasy, an illusion. Outside, I am free to see and be with whom I want, anyone who encroaches on that freedom loses their membership and gains a life time ban,” he said calmly. Jesus, I thought. They really were card-carrying members of his fan club. "So you secure your own social life by threatening to sort of officially break up with them." He leaned forward so he could position himself between the two front seats. "I would not see it like that, it implies too much intimacy. I only have eyes for you whether you choose to see that or not,” he said smoothly. His hand came up along my arm, touching my chin, he turned me to face him and his own was painfully close. “When will you truly look at me?" I was frozen to the spot as he came slowly forward. God I didn't really want him to, but at the same time, I wanted it. I wanted the kiss I felt coming, if only to be able to tell him it had done nothing for me. But with his lips only an inch away, I felt my stomach tie itself in a knot. The car swerved to the sound of another car's horn and Aram not wearing a seat belt was thrown back against the backseat. He laughed long and loud. "My friend you must watch where you are driving,” he chuckled. Magnus pulled over to the side of the road, he leaned back over his seat and looked crossly at the vampire. "I'll have none of your seductive tricks in my car, do you hear me,” he rumbled angrily. I opened the passenger side door and got out, both of them stared after me as I slammed the door. Magnus took his foot off the clutch and the car rolled slowly up along side of me. He leaned across, rolling the window down. "I'm sorry,” he said, “please get back in the car."

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"No. I just can't be boxed in with the two of you right now, besides, it's only around the next corner." Why did it bother me so much that Magnus sort of liked me? Until Jareth had pointed it out, I'd kind of liked him myself, he was decent and sweet. I had two men who were willing to go to blows over me—so why wasn't I more flattered than confused as hell? I suppose relationships just scared the hell out of me, having to let someone in like that. I couldn't start dating someone on one side or the other, it got too complicated to try and explain why they couldn't see me during the day or at night. I wouldn't always have this spell to protect me. My life was not good for honest monogamy and I couldn't see myself dating two people, one on either side. My mum had found a way to be in the other world permanently, if only I could find out how, I could be done with this place all together. It's not that I could imagine having to make the choice to leave all the people I had come to know, even for a life of relative normalcy where I could pursue a proper relationship. It would just be nice to have the choice. I turned into Copenhagen Street, a little way up it narrowed, connecting to the high street. About halfway up, there are stairs that lead down into a basement club. On this side, it was known as the Dark Portal and was run by a warlock named Wraithe. Warlocks are bad wizards who've lost their licence and been kicked out of the Guild of Magic. The most a warlock could do were some minor spells, things that were low on the Enforcer radar. But Wraithe had never been good with spells, his talents had always lain in potion making. Parapsychological, Molotov magic cocktails that could do anything from make you irresistible to women to thinking you're a chicken. That along with music, alcohol and any number of drugs was the definition of a wild party. Wraithe was infamous for these sorts of things, but no one could prove anything. When he was open was unfortunately only whenever he felt like it. Today he didn't look like he had any plans to open which meant he'd probably passed out somewhere inside. I stopped at the top of the stairs, Magnus was pulling up to the curb but Aram was already walking over to me. "I would not have picked this as a place you would frequent,” he said, taking in the shabby appearance of the outside and how the sign hung uneven on one chain—the other having snapped. "I don't, but I think I can get some information." I started down the steps, confident that Magnus would catch up. The double doors at the bottom were solid black, magic re-enforced steel, to keep out unwelcome Enforcers. But as I pulled one open, I couldn't help but think it might help if he remembered to lock them. More steps led down into the darkness, where music was playing loud, ‘ Jay Gordon, slept so long.’ I liked the tune but I needed the quiet to have a conversation. "See if you can find that and turn it off." Aram went behind the bar at the back as I wandered through the club. The basement was an old wine cellar, and in the alcoves in which barrels used to sit fermenting were pillows to make seats. The floor was polished wood with stone columns stretching up to support the ceiling, where the lights circled between red, orange and yellow. The far back corner, where there should have been a stage for a live act, was railed off by thick black bars at waist height, stuffed with pillows, on which lay Wraithe. Wraithe is a thirty-year-old addiction maniac, give him anything new and he can become addicted to it. He only kicks one habit when another takes its place but the core five never changed—booze, drugs, magic, sex and rock and roll. If you wanted to get high, he could teach you to fly. His yellow dreads were ratted and old, and went down to his waist. He was tanned less from actual sun exposure and more spray on. He wore a baggy white vest and pale green shorts all year round. His feet were bare soles—black from walking a floor he'd no doubt never cleaned—and an empty bottle of vodka rested loosely in one hand. He was sound asleep, if the music playing didn't keep him awake, there was no way

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he'd heard me approach. "Wraithe!" The music cut out at last. I looked back at Magnus, who having joined us, was holding the sound systems plug in his hand, twirling it smug and triumphantly. I turned back to Wraithe who, still snoring loudly, hadn't woken from his vodka-induced nap. "Wraithe." He rolled towards me. I thought he was going to wake but he just stopped on the flat of his back, his mouth dropping so he could drool like a monkey and snore like a hippo under water. I sighed while climbing over the barrier. I didn't really want to get too close to him, because he bathed less then he shaved and he didn't shave often. I grabbed two fist fulls of his vest and shook him. He drooled some more and smiled in his sleep. "I hate to have to touch you but...” I slapped him across the face, hard. “Wake up!" He snorted and grunted so I slapped him again. His eyes opened and he stared at me through the bleary redness. He spoke with the thin trace of an Irish accent, although I doubted if there was any Irish in him at all. "Cassa, babe, I've got to be dreaming,” came his droll tones. I motioned to slap him again, but he brought his hands up in surrender to protect his face—the face that was now beginning to feel the sting—and he looked at me with eyes much wider. "I'm awake, Cassa, I'm awake. As much as I am happy to see you, I will be far happier if you don't hit me no more." I let go of the fistful of his shirt; he fell back into the pillows with an audible plop. I leant back against the bars as he stared at me. "What do you want?” he asked. "Information." "Perhaps I can help if you make it worth my while." His face split into a grin as his hand crawled along the bare back of my knee. I slammed my foot down on his forearm. He squealed and cradled it. "If dat be the case, then I ain't got nothing to say." I shook my head, disappointed, but what did I expect, he was a friend of Nancy's, after all. "Then we'll have to do this another way,” I said rolling up my sleeves. He looked at me puzzled, trying to remember what way it was until he found himself flying through the air and landing snub nose down on the dance floor. He rolled over, shaking his head.

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"I'm not frightened of you girl,” he snarled. He shot some basic defence at me but they were far too easy to dodge. "Sometimes I think you forget that I'm stronger than you and I don't have to hide, so I can give it everything I've got if I want." I used my power like a giant bat and whacked him with it. He went flying feet over head across the top of his own bar and down behind it. I moved across the floor and hopped up on a stool while Wraithe got shakily to his feet. Magnus and Aram took a step towards him from either side. He did a check of both of them. Magnus had about a stone on him, as Wraithe was skinny from mainly surviving on a liquid diet, and he knew a vampire when he saw one. "And just who are you fellas?” he asked coyly. "They're with me." He gave a weak smile and threw his hands in the air. "Point made. This calls for a drink then." He reached behind him without looking and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a shot while I watched. He downed it in one and obviously feeling better, leant on the bar so he was giving me his eyes and his good ear. "Okay then, state your business,” he said. I placed my fingers to his forehead and showed him the image of Carolyn Danvers from the picture on her ID card. "Seen her?” I asked. "That's a new trick for you ain't it, Cassa, but yeah I seen her in here a few times, hanging out with sum'ners, not been in recently though." "Not been alive recently." His face didn't fall so much as look nostalgic. "Shame, she had the nicest—” He put his hand under his chest and made an uplifting squeezing gesture, smiling at me as he extended one hand out to me. “Present company excluded." "Keep talking like that and I'll slap you again on principle." He shook his head almost as a promise-he wouldn't mention anything like that again—and poured himself another shot. "What's a sum'ner?" I turned my head slightly towards Magnus, keeping a weathered eye on Wraithe. "Summoner—disreputable witches and warlocks who like to summon things to boss around,” I said,

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filling him in. "Or spice up a marriage,” added Wraithe, holding up his glass in salute and downing his second shot. "I think my blonde picked up something from one of these sum'ners, something that's been passing itself from person to person for a while,” I said. "Sum'ners, they just don't remember to use protection,” he chuckled. Wraithe fished around down the front of his vest, pulling out a talisman meant to ward off evil. I had one myself but hardly ever wore it. I wasn't into the summoning of anything for any kind of buzz. "This thing is connected to something called the Soul Market." Wraithe's eyes got shifty as he poured himself a third shot and downed it. "Never heard of it." He went to pour another but I was faster, I slid the bottle down the bar into Magnus’ waiting hand. Wraithe looked longingly after the bottle. "You're lying to me, you know something,” I said. "I've got nothing to say, give me back my Jack." "No. You know what I'm talking about and I want you sober enough to take me there." He looked at me like his mother had just walked in and I'd slapped her. "You don't want to go to a place like that. It's for the baddest of the bad, they'd eat you alive,” he said, with genuine fear in his voice. I leant forward a little, let him feel my hot fresh breath on his skin. "So, you do know what I'm talking about." He swallowed hard and his mouth twisted somewhere between sad and angry. "Yeah I know about it all right, but you don't want to go there. It's a place to get your hands on really black magic, make deals with the devil, and find rare items whether it be for consumption or collection. There are things out there that eat and collect the very soul of a person. People who will pay to eat werewolf meat, or who want their own little magical concubines. These people can get it, they don't care how they get it or who they kill in the process as long as they can make you pay through the nose for it." I turned my head toward Aram, who was looking keenly interested. "I guess it explains the disappearances. When's the next one?" "Tonight. But you don't want to go down there,” stated Wraithe for the third time. I looked at him and made a circle with my hand to motion that I meant everyone.

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"We're going." "Let me rephrase,” he said. “I don't want to go down there." He shook his head, snatching the bottle away from Magnus. Forgoing the glass, he placed the neck of the bottle in his mouth and swigged. He must have felt a little braver after because he stared me down. "I am not going, Cassandra. You can kick me around ‘til next Tuesday, and all you'll get out of me is some jollies." "Well you can stay here if you really want. I'll just go tell some people all about your little secret, Hil..." His hand shot out and went over my mouth, I smiled behind his hand. "Don't you dare, don't you flippin dare go telling anyone that. All right, I'll take you there. But once you're inside, you're on your own." [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-seven Wraithe looked really uncomfortable in the back seat. He would probably have been climbing the walls, if he wasn't afraid of what the vampire next to him might do. It was good that he was afraid, because it meant he would be easier to control. He sat behind me, giving Magnus reluctant directions. It probably would have been easier for him to be behind Magnus, but there was no way Aram got to sit behind me after his last stunt in the car. Instead, he sat looking out the window as we left the city through Whittington and turned down a dirt road about a mile out. I hadn't a clue where we were heading. I didn't tend to venture out much on this side, too many ways to end up on the wrong end of someone. Magnus looked around as if he expected to see other cars lining the road, there weren't any. How did all the people get to this market if not by the road we were using? I watched, as over the horizon an old Normandy church came into view. The roof was gone, no doubt a result of Henry VIII. The masonry had been pillaged too so that it almost looked only half built. Magnus swerved to a stop by the main door, dust and stone blew up blinding the windows until it settled. Magnus turned the engine off and stared out the window at it. "Jesus, this place looks like a summer home for vamp boy,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. Aram, for once, chose to ignore the comment. He stepped out into the moonlight, and stood for a second, then vanished, reappearing at my door. He opened it and stood aside to let me out. Magnus made a grumbling sound while getting out on his own side and slammed the door. "You too, Wraithe,” I said, looking into the back seat. He looked at me, timidly hoping that I wasn't serious, but I stared him down from my seat and he opened the door. He shivered as the wind blew around us. I was really wishing I'd made the time to go home and change, but this had to be done tonight, because who knew how much longer our people, like Bethany, could last. The large main doors were wood, shaped like an upside down shield to fit in

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between the arched pillars of either side. The two doors were ajar, as if someone had already slipped inside tonight. I led the way, with Wraith being forced to follow by Magnus behind him. Aram hung back. "Aram, come on,” I said, “I might need that terrific vampire strength of yours." "It's a church, pet,” he answered sadly. “I'm sorry but I cannot." There was something about churches on consecrated ground that posed a problem for vampires. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten about it, or maybe secretly and subconsciously I'd wanted to see what happened. The inside of the church had lines of broken pews on either side. Some were crushed from where a support pillar lay on top of them, and separating the two sides was a rich, dark red carpet, thick with dust and age. The altar still stood at the end, it was made of stone, standing as if against time. The large, stained glass window behind it was largely intact, a few broken pieces here and there but still stunning. It patterned the floor where the moonlight shone through. The Tribune, a second floor gallery, was virtually untouched. Only a few gaps here and there where the lack of support had caused the floor to cave but with no major damage. The stone stairs that led up to it were all there. From the underside hung looming drapes of imperial purple, much like the carpet—weighted by dust and time. Some were torn down on one side, others ripped at like a cat's scratching pole. Clerestory still etched in the remaining upper walls let moonlight shine in to light the nave. There would have been precious little light, if not for the fact that torches were burning brightly from metal brackets fixed into the walls, medieval in style but shining and new. Although it looked abandoned, this place was in use. "Who lit the torches?” I asked. "Sellers of course, whoever got here first,” said Wraithe, keeping close to me. He was more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I'd have told him as much if I hadn't noticed the blood on the floor. A dark patchy stain of it next to one pew. I let my eyes scan the church at floor level and found several more deliberate stains where pooled blood had soaked into the stonework. Five exact points with one in the middle. All holy items, crucifixes and such, had been removed. "Aram, you can come inside,” I said confidently. I looked at him outside, due mainly to the fact that a large part of the east wall was missing and he stared at me with contempt. "Did you not listen to me earlier, Andra?" I stared back at him as if to tell him I wasn't stupid. "The ground has been deconsecrated, it has been for sometime by the look of it. It should be perfectly safe for you to enter." Aram looked me over, judged me as serious and used the remaining pillar in the south corner to support himself as he tentatively put a foot inside. When nothing happened, he pushed the rest of him through the hole and came to my side. "So,” I said. Turning around now that both my back-ups were with me, I looked at Wraith who'd clung to a pew like he was preparing to refuse to go any further. “Where is the market then?"

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He pointed down and I looked at the floor. "Downstairs. In the crypt. The crypt of this old church stretches for a couple of miles, its perfect for fitting all those people in, but I told you, you're on your own." "What are you so afraid of?” I asked. "I may not be a good little wizard, Cassandra, but I'm not stupid enough to go messing about down there ever again." I looked at him and made a little leap pointing a finger at him. "You owe people money, don't you?" He stood up straight trying to pretend he was offended, but his back soon slouched with the strength of the grin on my face. "Just a little and these people will literally take my hide if I'm seen here, please can I just go home?” he pleaded. "How will you get back? We drove you." "I'll walk, please." I waved him away dismissingly. He didn't say goodbye, he didn't thank me, he just bolted straight for the door we'd come through. I'd never seen him move so fast. I looked at the men either side of me. "Guess it's just the three of us. Shall we go find out what's down there?" "What do you think is down there?” asked Aram cautiously. "Lions and tigers and bears,” I said "Oh my,” finished Magnus, getting the movie reference. I laughed. Magnus smiled at me, but Aram looked huffy and puzzled. I wasn't sure what pained him more—that he didn't get the reference or that Magnus had been able to give me the next bit. In Catholic churches, the entrance to the crypt is usually somewhere either underneath or behind the altar because certain important people wanted to be buried there. Those who thought their position deserved them the right to be as close to God as possible. Someone of that mindset would one day come up with the idea of being entombed on a jet plane; it was only a matter of time. Behind the altar was where the last torch was lit and there in the floor was a metal grate covering stairs leading down. I wrapped my fingers carefully through the metal and pulled, it was a lot heavier then it looked. "Aram, can you?” I asked. He reached around me, pressing his front against my back—slid his fingers over mine through the metal and pulled. It came up suddenly and very easily, and clanged with a resounding toll like a bell. Well, there went a subtle entrance. Aram sighed against me and my entire body erupted in goose pimples.

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"You, elf,” said Aram, moving back from me. He pointed to the hole we had uncovered. “You will go first." "Why?” he asked. "Because Cassandra will be much safer between us than with us both at her back squabbling. She comes first,” he said, with great authority. I had no voice to argue. I was too busy trying to force my heart out of my throat. There was something about body-to-body contact with Aram that made it make that uncontrollable leap. I was beginning to think he did it on purpose. When I managed to raise my head, Magnus was taking cautious steps downwards; his head disappeared under the floor and came back up a second later. "There are more torches on the stairs and I can hear voices,” he said. "I might have that looked at if I were you,” said Aram curtly. I'd known he wouldn't resist being snide to him for too long. "Ignore him. I knew what you meant. Let's go down." I unzipped my jacket, slipping it off. I let it drop down to my waist where I tied the sleeves around me. My neck and shoulders were completely bare, my plaited hair running down my back. If I was going to go down there, I was going to do my best to look like I belonged there, bad guys always showed a lot of skin. Magnus took the stairs down sideways, his hand on the wall just an inch in front of the hand I was using for balance. Our thumbs brushed a little but in the badly lit passage. I was the only one painfully aware of it. I could hear voices now too and the faint sound of music playing. "Hey, there's a door up ahead, big and metal,” Magnus whispered, as he pushed against it. It was heavy and old, definitely made to keep something out. Aram slid passed me and together they pushed the door so I could go through. The world exploded into colour and sound. The underground chamber was huge, with high ceilings, which proved how far we'd come down. Rickety stalls dotted the room to form a market place you could easily lose yourself in, while slipping between the stalls, brightly coloured and displaying their wares. The crowd was so much larger than I'd expected and I even saw children running about, as a man dressed like a Pierrot did some harmless magic tricks. The music came from instruments floating around the vaulted ceilings. I listened to the sounds, the seller's calls were like evensong and I wondered why this was considered such a bad place. The song finished and a worn brown, flat cap with a small rip in its green lining hovered in front of me, sporting a few coins inside. I waved it away and almost sadly, it floated along to another person as the music started up again. Aram was eyed by passers-by, as we slowly moved our way into the throng. Spells and potions, magical wear, the Pierrot danced by and children chased gingerbread men that really could run as fast as they can. What had Wraithe been so afraid of, it was a little like a magical Covent Garden. "Something sweet, my sweet,” came a voice and a hand grabbed my wrist pulling me from the crowd. Not maliciously, just a little over eager. I felt my hip bang against a stall and looked around me. The stall

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owner who'd taken my wrist was draped by a grey cloak, his fingers were knarled and worn, with a wart in the middle of his index finger. I looked at what he was selling. Candy apples, jelly babies that crawled and cried, a jar that contained bouncing hot, hot, chocolate mice that scurried and in two small cages there were imprisoned gingerbread men, the same as those I'd seen running around the floor before and some very alive versions of Bertie Bassett. "Can I tempt you with something to eat?” he said. I supposed while I had someone's attention, I should find out where I got what I'd come here for. "I was looking for more of a soul food,” I said. He let go of my wrist abruptly and I suddenly felt very offended. "Oh,” he said, in a much quieter voice, “you're one of them." He reached up to the hood of his cloak and dropped it down to his shoulders, his hacked short hair was white, his skin was dark. His ears, although still larger than a human's, had been sliced up so badly you could hardly tell any longer that he was an elf, let alone a Dark one. His left eye was white, the pupil itself drained of all colour and it searched the room wantonly but saw nothing. He reached out to touch my face; I couldn't help but pull back. "I don't blame you, but what does a pretty girl like you want to get mixed up with them for?" I looked at him and my eyes probably said more than I meant them to, denying the harshness of my voice. "You wouldn't understand." Hands came down on my shoulders, with elegant, pale fingers. I didn't have to look to know who was behind me, but I looked anyway. "Is there a problem, Andra?” said Aram defensively. I shook my head turning back to the stall keeper who'd slid his hood back up into place quite quickly at Aram's appearance. He raised his hand slowly. "What you want is through this chamber and the next, take the left passage going down but be careful, for there is nothing but darkness down there." I would have thanked him if I thought he might take it with any grace. I turned, taking Aram by the hand and headed to follow his directions. The next chamber was smaller but admittedly not by much. It seemed far more spacious from the fact that the stalls and the crowds had thinned out. It became far easier to move and I could see Magnus leaning against the archway between the two waiting for us. "What happened to you?” I asked. Magnus looked down, eyeing the fact that my hand was in Aram's, a fact I'd forgotten for a moment. I pulled my fingers free. Magnus looked better and finally answered me. "Someone announced a sale and there was a surge. I got pushed forward and lost track of both of you."

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I smiled. “It's alright now I've got directions." "My hero,” he said. Magnus took hold of the hand that Aram had held, laying his scent over the top of the vampire's to make his mark the more recent, the freshest. His hand seemed larger than Aram's; not that both their hands didn't dwarf mine, but Aram's finer, delicate frame made his hands somewhat smaller for a man. Magnus's hands were the kind you could imagine having some force to them. Aram's finger slipped through my other hand. I looked back at him and the look on his face said he was not going to be left out. I pulled them both in close. "Come on, guys, what is this? The school trip, everybody make sure you've got your buddy? I don't need either of you to hold my hand, okay? And I especially don't need for it to be both of you." "I will let go if he does,” they said with an eerie unison. I pulled them to a stop and tore my hands away from both of them. Both looked equally upset. "All right, children, let me make this perfectly clear. I don't date while I work. I am currently working, so both of you just keep to your flipping selves unless I say otherwise. Got it?" "Got it,” said Magnus. "You are most abundantly clear, pet,” replied Aram. I straightened myself up, took a deep breath and walked ahead of both of them. Once through the second chamber, he'd said to go left and down. The path split off in three directions, in front was a balcony that looked down on to the third chamber below. Both tunnels came out onto the floor below, so why was he so insistent that we go down to the left. He was a Dark Elf, no matter how humbled he looked now, and why of all the people in the crowd had he reached out and grabbed me. I looked down to the left and then down the right and headed for the right. "Andra, why do we not head left like the old man told us?” asked Aram. "Because I don't trust what he said." Aram looked over his shoulder at Magnus, his eyes and words both quite viscous. "Yes, we mustn't trust those of Dark Elvin lineage,” he said. I'd came out of the passage next to a stall manned by a particularly gothic looking warlock, his ware of choice was faeries in a bottle. They were just about still alive. Forced to breathe through the tiniest of holes poked in the top of their glass cages. I tried to keep the disgust off my face, but things only got worse. I saw abuse and degradation, as slaves of every different magical race were being bartered and traded. I felt a knock against my leg and a goblin looked gruffly up at me. He turned up his nose like I should have been watching where he was going. Around his chubby green neck was a black bow tie and in his arms he carried a small cardboard box, inside which I could see, watches, jewellery and one or two pets collars. He scurried along. I watched him go still walking almost straight into the entertainment. A man was chained to the floor before the crowd. The shorts that were his only clothes were tattered

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like they'd been shredded, his breathing was harsh and with a flash of the stun gun, I could see why. He was a level five werewolf and when it was shoved in his ribs his body erupted in fur while spewing clear hot liquid over the floor. He reigned himself in, forced himself to change back, to not give them the satisfaction of being wolfed out for very long. But the minute he was human again, breathing heavily, the electricity bowed his spine and forced the fur back. He snarled and pulled at the chains, but they were silver so they burned into his skin. It was like a bear baiting but for some reason, it seemed much, much crueller. I turned my head away only to have it grabbed by a huge fat fist. I was turned to look at a man who was the epitome of ugly. He had golden rings shoved on until his sausage like fingers were almost tinted the colour of frankfurters. His belly was rotund and he was a short man, no doubt from smoking too many of the cigars that were stuffed into his top pocket. "Very nice, how much?" This to Magnus who was standing the closest to me. He looked at me as if asking what he should say. I grabbed the wrist connected to the hand and twisted, until the fat man squealed. He looked at me angrily. "Touch me again, peon, and I will break this arm, do you understand me?" He held his into his chest. I hadn't applied that much pressure, he was either a lot weaker then he looked or he wasn't used to being man-handled in any way. "She's the boss?” he said, surprised. Both Aram and Magnus stepped toward my body, just a step behind me. Aram's hand slid around my waist, Magnus pressed his chin into my shoulder. I reached up running my fingers through the end of his hair. "Did he hurt you, mistress?" Aram's voice was sultry and without humour, boy, did he know how to play a role. Magnus stayed quiet trying to keep a grin off his face. Ugly, looked at the men draping themselves around me like they were accessories, grumbled, and then went storming off. I turned, keeping my eye on him as he struggled through the crowd. "We're going to follow fatso,” I said. "My, my, Andra, so cruel,” said Aram, smelling the skin on my neck. "Anyone who would buy or sell a person deserves no respect from me." The podgy little bastard moved through the chamber at a waddle, we kept to a distance, separate so that he wouldn't see us following. We were coming to the end where three archways moved off into another place but they were dark. The podgy man went through the one in the middle. I followed him, signalling to Magnus and Aram to go in one on either side. But I'd made the mistake of thinking that because they were all in the same wall they connected. I was soon in a maze of tunnels, in the dark and alone—something about this smelled completely like a trap. I followed podgy until I lost him somewhere in the dark, because he had a light and I didn't and suddenly he'd found he could go much faster than a waddle. "Damn it.” I smacked my fists against the wall, looked behind me and saw no way to tell how far I had come or if I could even get back. Who knew what else was down here.

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"Magnus? Aram?” I called out. My voice echoed along the corridors but no reply came. There was a deafening silence that whispered, maybe, just maybe I was in trouble now. I checked my mobile phone; the screen provided only a dim enough light to tell me not only that I didn't have a signal but that my battery was low. "Magnus? Aram?" Still no answer. I took a deep breath and began heading forward, positive that if the little podgy man had come down here, there must be somewhere to go. I'd walked for a while when my feet began to sound louder than normal, like they were giant feet. I stopped but the loud sound didn't. It wasn't the sound of my feet, they had been drowned out by something—or someone—coming along the tunnel behind me. I looked behind me, my eyes had grown a little used to the dark but I still couldn't see. I kept walking faster, until I was power walking. Then I was jogging, until finally I just broke into a run trying to lose whatever was behind me. My pulse beat faster in my neck. I couldn't see any turnings or openings so I kept going straight, straight until I ran out of places to run. I came to a wall and knew it was a dead end. Maybe, I thought as I felt along the walls, there would be an exit close by that I'd missed in the darkness and I could slip into it before whatever was behind me saw me. The smell of this thing grew closer, a strong sulphur smell, and it was sending a sickening feeling through me. I was beginning to panic, like a cornered animal, I wanted to fight but I couldn't see what I was fighting. I didn't want to use magic because I had no idea what reaction my pursuer would have and it was still taking far too much energy to focus it. A deep low growl trickled over the back of my neck raising each of the hairs, it was so close. I swung my arm out but didn't connect with anything. I was more frightened by the fact, I'm sure it had been directly behind me but it had moved before my movement could even tickle it. Large, grubby hands clamped over my mouth, nose and throat. I struggled with it but the smell was so hideous, so strong and over powering that I was praying not to have to breathe it in. My head began to spin, as a different kind of darkness started to swirl about me and everything, including that awful smell, was gone. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-eight I woke up to the sound of someone calling my name. I pulled my eyes open but everything about them felt heavy. "This getting knocked out shit is getting real old, real fast,” I grumbled. "Thank God. I've been calling your name for a half an hour, Andra, I thought that thing had injured you.” It was Aram's voice talking to me. I pulled my head up. Aram was against the wall in front of me, his wrist bound by chains above his head. I looked about and could see some other figures similarly bound. "What is this, the Worcester dungeon? On a side note though, you do look good in chains,” I said to him.

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"On a side note, thank you,” he replied. “But I do not believe this is the time or place to discuss what would do it for you." "Not what I meant.” I grumbled. And then I tried to stand. I got so far before a weight at my neck and a sharp pulling sensation told me that on my knees was as far as I got to get. The collar around my neck was cold strong metal, and when I touched it, I got a slight spark jump between me and the collar; that told me magic was not getting me out of this one. The collar was chained to the ground on my left and my wrists were chained to either side. I felt vaguely insulted, being chained up like an animal and my eyes being only about waist level. "Did you get a look at them?” I asked. "I was hit from behind." "Sneaky little buggers. Where's Magnus?" I tried to look around but I couldn't turn far, the chain on the collar was much shorter than those on my wrists. "He is chained to the other wall, pet, low down. He's breathing but he's been out since I got here." I let out a relieved breath, at least we were all here and alive. The figure next to Aram stirred. Her head raised and I could see her better. She had dark black hair, curled modestly around her face and shoulders, her skin was pale, her ears larger with a slight point. I recognised her from the photo in her room. "Bethany?” I asked. "Shouldn't have come. Shouldn't have..." "Bethany, my name's Cassandra. We've come to take you home." Her face turned to me, her eyebrow raised and I found sarcasm, a very strange look on her elfish face. "Oh, they gave you the kind of chains that aren't fixed to a specific point." I smiled, which must have struck her as odd, but I liked her. "No. I'm as chained down as the rest of us, but hey, I'm an optimist." She made a low sound and then her shoulders started to shake, at first I thought she was crying but her head went back and her mouth was brimming with a smile. "You're her, the voice that was in my head,” said Bethany. "Yeah, sorry about not asking permission and all but your brother was all, well, brotherly." She sighed. “He does take so much looking after." I laughed, a little surprised at how much and Aram just stared at us both.

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"Andra, pet, you do have a strange sense of humour,” he commented. Bethany moved her head so she could look at Aram, who hung next to her. "I take it you're together,” she said dryly. "In the sense of being here at the same time, yeah. Magnus was with us too, but apparently, he's over there. I'd check but I'm having real trouble turning my neck." Bethany rose up on her tiptoes and there must have been something behind me because she appeared to be peering over it. "Out like a light. He always could sleep through anything." I observed what little of the room I could see. There were shelves on one side of the room, crammed with bottles. Some filled with liquid, others with a strange twinkling light almost like fairy and canopic jars. I knew what those were for and from the bloodstains on the floor, I knew they were also in use. "What's behind me?” I asked. Aram raised his eyes over me and looked about. "There are four medical tables. One is empty. The middle one looks like so much meat. Aribella and Sinatra are laying on the other two. They are not moving, but it is dark." "There was a third but they dragged him away the other night,” said Bethany, trying to be helpful. "Sienna. It's alright we found him, they framed the werewolves." Bethany looked around, she couldn't pull her arm quite far enough from the wall to point to the table behind me. "They got the claws from what's left of that one, and they've been selling the meat like it was sirloin. She scares me, because she keeps telling me the bidding on me is good but not quite enough yet." The look on her face was a mix between fear and disgust. Because she wasn't quite as sure whether she was going to be as lucky as the pile of meat. As for a woman, there were worse things than death. "By she , I take it you mean the small brunette woman wearing skirt suits,” I said, keeping my description of Jane simple. "Yes, but there is something distinctly evil about her,” said Bethany. "That is not at a nice way to talk about me." I turned my head enough to be able to look towards my left where there were steps coming down from somewhere else. Jane was standing at the top of them but she wasn't dressed in a suit, this time she was wearing a little black evening dress. Her hair was styled differently from her photo, more flattering to her facial features. She smiled with lips tinted scarlet. She looked back at me with those eyes, the eyes that didn't look like they were really hers. I knew just looking at her, that this was not the Jane who was, that

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in fact, Jane was probably long since gone. She took the steps like it was a grand entrance, the heels of her strappy sandals clicking as she walked. She put her hand down on the wall next to Bethany's head, craned her neck, and pushed her face to within inches. "One more round of bidding and you'll be off my hands, doesn't that please you?” she purred. Bethany screwed up her face. “Not even a little bit." "Give her one good reason why it should make her happy." Her eyes turned to me very, very slowly. "Even a little bit." Her lips curved into a smile, a smile that seemed to chill me right down to the marrow of my bones. She pushed off the wall and came towards me. Then squatting down in front of me, her hand with perfectly painted nails slid along the line of my neck tilting my chin up so I could look at her. I could see under the makeup, that her body was already beginning to wear out, from having who ever this was stuffed inside her where she didn't belong. I looked at her. I wasn't afraid of her and I was going to show it with the determination in my eyes. "You know, you're much younger than I thought. Your power seemed so old when I first felt it, but you are so much younger and much prettier." I didn't like the look that came over her face, as if somehow my being attractive, at least in her eyes, made things so much better. She came down so that she was on her knees and looked like she was making herself comfortable. Oh goody, we were going to have a nice long chat. "I have to admit, at first I was annoyed that you managed to lock on to me, especially when I'd struggled so hard to keep all this safe. The jolt I gave you would have put most people off, but you kept coming. The closer you got, the more impressed I was, you're going to be my best sale yet." "Really? I always thought of myself as bargain basement material." She laughed, a deep strange laugh, like there was something else laughing behind the human vocal cords. Bethany was right, she was something evil. She stroked my face raking her nails sensually across my cheek. "You were in my apartment,” she said. "Doesn't belong to you,” I said in defence of myself. "I'm in residence." "Well I suppose possession is nine tenths of the law." Her head went back and she laughed especially hard, making her entire body heave. It only went to prove that she'd really had to squeeze herself into that dress. From the stairs, she'd looked fantastic, but up close you could see every lump and bump. Her head came back with the same sickly sweet grin on her face.

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"So tell me, little girl, what's your name?" "Need to label me before you put me on sale,” I asked. She shook her head, reached for my jacket and began feeling about in it. Her hand caressed my hip as she found the inner pocket where I'd hidden my wallet. She pulled out the photo driver's licence I generally used as ID. "Cassandra. Do you prefer Cass or Cassie?” she asked, twirling the ID in her hand. "Does it matter? While we're on the subject though, what should I call you?" She slid the ID back into place and actually returned my wallet to the pocket in my jacket but I had the feeling it was only an excuse to touch me again. "Why, I'm Jane, dear,” she said innocently. "And I'm a princess from Troy." She grabbed me roughly at the waist, lining her body up the front of mine and licked her lips like there was something on them, and moved them towards me. My breathing sped as I found electricity running through me from her hand sliding its way up my arm. "No, don't let her,” screamed Bethany, but she was silenced by a wave of Jane's hand. That hand came back to me, touched my face so that our eyes locked. I felt warmth in her touch and it made my breath come out in a shudder, despite the fact that I didn't want it too. She moved to kiss me but I was still enough of myself to not want it. She was trying to make me want it but I wouldn't give in. I tore myself away. It hurt my neck to struggle against the chain but I pushed myself enough away from her, that she couldn't hold onto to me without scoring me or keep pushing without doing real damage to my neck. She looked at me as I struggled to keep my breathing even. In the end, she gave in and moved back. I only came forward to relieve the strain, when she sat back on her heels and I was sure she wasn't going to try it again. She moved loose stands of hair from my face. "Most humans who reek of magic the way you do, will do anything else magical with a pulse,” she purred again. "My Andra has never once claimed that they had to have a pulse. Do you have to keep stroking her? She doesn't care for it." Slowly, her head turned away from me to look at Aram. I wasn't sure if he was distracting her so I could have a breather or because he was jealous. "Is it the stroking or me?” she asked "A little of both perhaps. I am yet to discover a way to elicit such a pleasure, although she has shown interest in the chains." Aram swung his chains loosely and she gave a quiet almost shy titter. "Aram of Trelawny,” she smiled. “You have not changed."

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I looked at Aram, confused, did he know her? Had he known her all this time? I was ready to believe it until I saw the look on his face was one of pure puzzlement. "Do we know each other?” he asked. She stood, while slowly adjusting the dress, conscious of her form and trying to make it fit better, she walked towards him with the gaze of an old lover. "Did I last see you in Paris or Prague? Was I still blonde or had I gone red? She stroked his handsome face while he thought about it. "You might have to be more specific for him, as you've been many people haven't you. I saw your trophies,” I said. She pressed her body against his, running her happy little hands over his chest cooing softly. "You're a little sneak,” she said, with a hint of venom. "That's getting off the point. You have to have a name other than whom you're festering inside of. I mean, now you're Jane, but you were Carolyn; you've been so many women and one man." Her face screwed up. I'd said it on the off chance I'd be right, that she'd possessed the husband too. Her reaction proved, not only that I'd hit the nail on the head, but that she didn't like to be reminded of it. "You're right,” she said, running her finger in sad little circles over Aram's breast. “And I did not care for it. But I had no choice, Carolyn was dying. I'd planned to transfer to Jane, but she suddenly went on a business trip. I had to switch fast. When she came back, I switched, but her husband wasn't anywhere near dead." "So you killed him?” I asked. She smiled, a vicious vindictive smile. "He was no longer useful. He did only one thing for me and that was to offer a new perspective on sex." I screwed my face up, to be with someone who was being possessed by someone else—and a woman at that—struck me as gross. "She's got such a delicate sensibility for one so scantily dressed. She's likeable, strong yet vulnerable at the same time. I'm going to enjoy tasting her inner light." Something flashed across Aram's eyes, his lips parted and he strained to get the single word out. "Lilith?" [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-nine "So you do know her?” I said accusingly. I'd have pointed a finger if I could have managed it. "Once, different body though. Her demon body cannot come to our plane of existence, so she must take a host,” said Aram, displaying his finely attuned knowledge of things that went bump in the night, along with him and his vampire buddies. "A demon! So the person she was, I mean—is she still?” I questioned. Aram shook his head solemnly, his curls bouncing from side to side with it. "Very doubtful, her soul would have been eaten away by one such as she." Lilith smiled, running her hands down the body she'd stolen. "All that will be left of her inside when I leave her will be so much chicken soup,” she said. "Urgh, I'm never going to be able to look at a can of Campbell's again." Lilith coiled herself around Aram calling him little pet names, stroking him while moving up his body towards his thin lips. I noticed the paleness of them and realised he needed blood. I didn't understand, he'd taken blood before I'd arrived at Dante's. Lilith pushed up on her tiptoes but Aram turned his head. "I would not kiss you in Prague and I will not kiss you now,” he said, defiantly. She dropped down so that her heels touched the floor. "Such strong words from someone so weak,” cooed Lilith. She touched his hands where the remains of a tube that had been inserted into the veins showed. She'd drained him. Vampire blood was worth a lot of money in some circles, to those who thought it would give them longevity and youth without becoming a vampire and to those trying to find a cure for vampirism. Lilith giggled as Aram squirmed his head trying to keep it out of her way; he had height on her, which helped. "Come on, lover, I know you find me attractive,” she purred. "Once, no longer,” he insisted. She slammed her heels down on the floor—he had offended her. "You wanted me once, I can make anyone want me, but you..." Aram's eyes fell on me. I don't think he meant to look to me but his pain showed in them. He was ashamed that I was present for this rehashing of history. Lilith followed the line of his gaze right to me where I was still chained to the floor in the tiny clothes he'd chosen, wishing even more that I had found the time to go home and change. I was beginning to feel a bit Princess Leia-ish except my captor was Jabba the Slut. "Oh,” her face beamed suddenly, “you're in love. Well that explains it then, my powers could never touch someone who was truly in love."

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I had her attention again and I wasn't sure I wanted it. She stood looking down at me, she was smiling but I could tell she was pissed off. Pissed off that she couldn't have Aram and that was apparently going to be my fault. "I think I'm going to get my little helpers to deal with you first,” she said, with a little snort. I swallowed hard and the feeling came over me, the feeling that you know you're fucked, only you're just not sure how badly yet. "Really? ‘Cause I can wait,” I said pulling on the chains. “I mean I'm not going anywhere." "No,” she smiled. “You're not" She yelled a word I'd never heard before and great lumbering beasts came towards us. The monsters I'd only seen in a sketchy memory were a little more like giant apes close up, but not as hairy. They'd looked like they had skin, but when they were closer, I could see they were fine scales covering their bulky muscles. The closer they got to me, the stronger the smell of sulphur got, it wafted around them like bad cologne. I gagged on that smell. "Careful, don't get too close. I don't want her to pass out again. This won't be as much fun if she passes out,” said Lilith issuing her orders. I hated the idea of what her kind of fun might be. I heard a rattling sound, the squeak of wheels and I knew they were clearing the trolleys to the side of the room. Whatever she planned obviously required much more space. The chain around my neck came loose and I turned my head to look around more but the thick hand of one of the beasts held the collar chain like a leash. He pulled and my head jerked. "Watch it, ugly, you break my neck, I bet your boss won't be happy." She stood to one side obviously watching. She trusted them to know what to do. The chains around my wrists were unbolted, the collar yanked again harder. It pulled until I stood up and I followed to where it wanted. There was another set of hooks in the ground in the middle of the room, splattered by the blood that pooled around them, no doubt from the trolley of meat that had been above it. The grunt's giant hand came down on my head, pushing down. I had to go to my knees to stop it from crushing my skull. All the chains were secured back into place. I looked to my left. A woman lay on the trolley. Her dress was tight and long, and her nearly white blonde hair fell gracefully to her elbows, straight and shining. The shawl next to her head matched the dress perfectly, as did the bag at her feet, which were laced up in delicate black Victorian boots. That had to be Aribella, who looked like she'd been out for a night at the theatre when she'd vanished. To my right was the vampire Sinatra. He had smooth black hair that looked gelled down by parmade and he was dressed more for an evening relaxing, then anything else. The thick red valour robe was tied at his waist with a black sash, which fell just over his hips and the top of the loose black trousers he wore. His feet were bare but I'd half-expected slippers. Neither of them moved. I decided distraction was in order, strike up a conversation with your would-be torturer. "So what kind of demon are you?” I asked, focusing my eyes on her.

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"Guess,” she said, with a little amusement. She obviously liked games. "Give me a clue,” I pleaded. "I was summoned by a wronged wife in nineteen-twenty-one and decided, I liked it up here and refused to leave." A wronged wife. “You don't feel like a vengeance demon, they're all about killing and the fixing of problems in weird and horrible ways,” I muttered. “Which wasn't what you meant, there are certainly different types of revenge or vengeance. The type where you punish by killing or maiming them. There's also the type where you drown them in their betrayal until the guilty pleasure gains a nasty aftertaste. "She's from the second circle, pet,” said Aram. "Shhh. You'll spoil it." Lilith scolded Aram like this was all a big game and perhaps for her, it was. In the end though, it didn't look like it would be her that didn't pass go or collect two hundred pounds. I thought very hard on Aram's clue. The second circle of how many. Nine. Nine circles. Dante. It all hit me at once. Dante's Divine Comedy went through hell, purgatory, and heaven. In hell, there were nine circles dependent upon the gravity of your sin, the higher the number, the lower down you went into the bowels of it. With the ninth circle being reserved for the worst sin. Betrayal. I'd read through it a while back. I'd done a lot of reading to pass the time at my mother's bedside, in the final months, she hadn't spent much time awake. The second circle was for lust. Sins of the flesh and I suppose, to some extent, adultery, but that might have fallen under the circle for coveting. She was a second circle demon which pretty much gave one only two choices. "You're either an Incubus or a Succubus, and seeing as you have a preference for female hosts, I'm going to say Succubus." "Ding, ding, ding, tell her what's she's won, Bob?" She waved her arms at one of her grunt demons, it grumbled something I didn't understand and licked its lips. "That's right, one soul-ectomy courtesy of yours truly." She gave a little bow and the game was over, because when she rose up, her face was very serious and very dangerous. Lilith reached up to the shelf with all the glowing bottles and pulled down an empty one. "So those glowy things are souls,” I said, twigging. "That's right. I was quite impressed when you nearly called that vampire's soul back to him." I smiled and shrugged. "Mph and how did I do that?” I knew she probably meant what had happened with Sienna in the morgue, but apart from that, I was clueless. "Idiot was trying to sample the merchandise."

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She flexed her elbow in the direction of the second grunt, which if I didn't know better, I would have sworn looked embarrassed. "Once in the bottle, a spell etched into the glass keeps it there unless it's called, freed or consumed." "Must be a niche market though. I mean apart from the fact that one would make a fabulous nightlight,” I said, unleashing the sarcasm within. Lilith just smiled, she was done with the banter as she slowly glided towards me, the empty bottle balanced between two of her fingers. Bethany's eyes said volumes. Still unable to speak after whatever Lilith had done to her, I'm sure she would have warned me. I looked up at Lilith as her hand caressed the top of my head. She slid down me so that she was on her knees in front of me. A moan came from behind me, not one of pleasure, one of dull pain. I could see over my shoulder to where Magnus was waking up, to the pain of being bashed over the head and the shock of being chained up. "Aren't you a lucky boy? You're just in time for a little girl-on-girl action." I turned my head slowly back to her. "Oh no you don't, you have so not got me drunk enough." With one hand on my face, she put the bottle down, the other joined it, cupping it, sliding her own slowly between them. I tried to pull back but the chain was tight. All I could have done was go down, towards the floor but that would put her on top of me, making me equally as fucked. She was so close that the scent of her became intoxicating, like the whiff of some drug that drew you in. It made my eyes flutter as I tried to fight the sensation. Magnus called my name, but it was barely a whisper in the back of my mind. Her face was all I could see, focused on mine. She whipped her tongue across her painted lips and it was sensual and intoxicating at the same time. I found my chest getting tight and heaving. The want welled up inside me, she knew she could make me want the kiss, it was in her power she'd said so herself. I closed my eyes at the first touch of her lips on mine. Gentle at first, then harder, until she was eating at my mouth like she was trying to break through some invisible seal that was protecting something from her. With a forceful flick of her tongue, it broke and I could feel her sucking something from me. The inside of me began to feel like an empty void, like a growing permanent darkness that scared me. Scared me enough into my senses for my power to waken. It screamed at me, not to let this happen, that whatever she was trying to steal from me, was something that we desperately needed. I felt a red light behind my eyes and lashed out. The void filled up again. I felt her break away from me and I opened my eyes to stare at her. She was staring back at me in astonishment. "No! I had it, it was mine." She went for my mouth again but I pulled back from her—it hurt but I did it. Magnus was pulling at the chains behind him, he wanted to get to me, get her off of me. I could hear it in his voice. "I'm all right,” I said breathily. “Don't hurt yourself." "Cassandra,” he called my name with desperation.

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I turned my head round, catching only a glimpse of him. I tried to smile at him, but what she'd tried on me had made my insides hurt. Her hands gripped tighter on my face bringing it back to hers, she kissed me again but this time the shield she'd broken through so easily before refused to budge. Lilith growled angrily at me as she threw me down, so I was flat on the ground. She pushed herself over the top of my body pressing her own against it, trying to force another kiss. I looked up at her, sarcasm filling my face. "What, no romantic music, dinner, a bottle of Asti?" She smacked her hands down either side of my head, staring down into my face. She couldn't keep the anger out of it, but there was also confusion. Why couldn't she drag my soul out of me, like she'd done with so many others? She sat back on my legs allowing me to raise the top of my body up enough. "How did you do it?” she asked. I shrugged and she crossed her arms. She thought I was refusing to tell her, not that I really didn't know how I had done it. "What am I supposed to do with you now?” she said, disappointed. "How about you let me up and we can all go our separate ways?" She laughed, an angry, dark laugh that told me she was still very angry about her failure at not being able to separate me into two pieces—the flesh and the spirit. "I'll just have to enter you into the same bidding as the elf girl, as a whole package, magical slave trade. I think I can find some really nasty men who'd pay a lot to ruin someone like you." "Oh, don't go easy on me just ‘cause you like me,” I said cockily. Lilith got up, leaving me lying on the floor. I sat up slowly. I was much more comfortable sitting on my bottom than I had been on my knees; I guess it was because I was lower down. Magnus crawled as far as his chains would allow towards me. "Are you okay?” he asked. "I think so." "What happened? I was following that guy and then there was a large pain in my head,” he recounted his visit to the dark tunnels. "That would have been one of them smacking you over the head with something." I pointed at the two grunt demons that stood either side of the steps. He swallowed very hard and leaned in just a little closer to me, keeping his voice down low. "Do you think perhaps now would be a good time for plan B?” he whispered. "Yes, yes I do." I reached into my pocket, feeling for the little black tube I knew was in there, and clicked the button on the bottom. A sound came from outside—shouting and some screams. Lilith turned her head back

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toward me and suddenly her eyes widened. "What have you done?” Her words became a high pitch scream. This time it was my turn to laugh. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty Lilith snapped her fingers at the two grunt demons, they turned their heads without hesitation toward her. "Bill and Ben follow me, now.” She commanded, while marching up the stairs and they followed, loping along slightly behind her. There was the sound of a door slamming shut and locking. I let out a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding. "Andra? Pet, what have you done?" "Called in the cavalry,” I said with a smile. **** When I'd left Jane's apartment, I'd done something I'd sworn I was never going to do—I went to Rourke for help. She'd sat at her desk, hair tied back in a ponytail with a permanently pissed off look plastered across her face while staring at me like I'd fed a Bible into the shredder. The things I was talking about were an assault on the natural order of the world. "Possession?” she'd asked, with a raised eyebrow. Rourke was a little more than sceptical and she didn't even have to raise her eyebrows for me to tell. Magnus had opted to sit outside for this meeting. He'd confided in me that Rourke scared him a little. It was me who'd insisted on Benjamin staying outside, just for my sanity. Even so, I'd begun to believe it was going to be really tough enough to convince Rourke. "That's what I said. I think the assistant picked it up at one of these parties her boss said she liked to visit, and it's been passing itself around for some time." "You make it sound like an STD,” she'd laughed. "A magical version of one I suppose, but seriously, Rourke, I'm going to need some sort of support here." She scoffed and crossed her arms. She was feeling smug and I would let her if it meant I could get what I needed. I didn't want to have to be a bitch about things if I could help it, but sometimes Rourke left me with no other options. "So, this possessed woman has been kidnapping vampires and werewolves, and apparently doing a pretty damn good job of not leaving us anything to go on." "Look, I admit it's not something that may end up in a law court, which is why I recommended involving

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the wizard enforcers. They are more equipped to handle this, but their ranks are thin, so they'd need you for manpower more than anything." Rourke started fiddling with things on her desk, she'd stopped listening to me about five minutes ago. I sighed deeply, what was it going to take to convince this woman that it was a police matter. "This market has been mentioned to me twice. I can bet you there has to be something illegal going on there, something that you can thrust in front of a judge. It'll boost your legitimate standing. Isn't that important to you?" She rested her head against the palm of her hand. "Let me get this straight, you ignored my express command to keep your nose out of this. You broke and entered again, this time into our suspected murderer's residence, perhaps tipping her off, and dared to come in here and demand my help." "I didn't demand." The phone started ringing, we both looked at it. At least it was saving me from entering into a screaming match with her. She snatched it up pressing it to her ear. "What? Damn it, send the file in and stall him for ten minutes while I look it over. Yes I know who he is, just do it." She slammed the receiver down and looked at me. "I've got something else to deal with now, get out of here." "I'm not leaving until you hear me out fairly and..." The door burst open and a gruff looking man in his late forties came in, waving a folder at Rourke. He threw it down on the desk and she jumped back. He was wearing a handmade Italian suit with a dark blue silk tie. His hair was slowly disappearing from the top of his head, but thanks to probably a thousand makeup artists, he had the best comb over in the business. I didn't recognise him at first, because he'd had a beard. "I'm not some little peon of yours, Detective Inspector Rourke. You forget it is me who has to approve your budget again this year,” said the mayor angrily. "Only, if you get re-elected sir." She smiled at him, that sarcastic smile that said she didn't care if he threatened her whole department, she would happily take reassignment. PCU was a joke, not just to other departments but also to most of its own higher ups. I gave a little cough and he looked down at me, he'd not seen me when he'd marched in. He suddenly straightened and put on a professional manner. "Good afternoon, miss, I'm Mayor Guvins." He extended his hand to me and I shook it. He had a firm grip, and he gave me a warm smile but it was all—political. I'd read his position on the magical and monster equation, he was happy to do something about it to keep votes, but he didn't get really extracurricular with it. That's why everything meant to help,

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fell, sadly short. "Cassandra Farbanks. I didn't vote for you, hell I plain just didn't vote." He coughed, obviously uncomfortable with my honesty and slowly pulled his hand back. To have done it sharply would have been too rude for even him. Rourke gave me an unfriendly look. "Miss Farbanks was just leaving." I crossed my legs and got more comfortable in the chair. "No, I wasn't." "We cannot continue this with the door open." She said it in the hope I would get up to shut it and she could push me out the office. I raised my hand and flicked my fingers at it. "Let me get that,” I said cockily. It was like a strong gust expelled from me and the door slammed shut. The mayor jumped taking a step away from me, also away from the door. Rourke shook her head. "You really aren't going to drop this, are you,” she said annoyed. "I have a homicidal, possessed kidnapper, that's smarter than you." Rourke looked up from her hand. "Don't you mean me?" "That's what I said." I smiled as it took a second for it to sink in. She growled angrily and pushed her chair back, as if she was thinking about leaping across her desk to throttle me, with only a politically minded old man for a witness. Not quite the way I'd thought to go but sometimes you just can't pick these things. "Homicidal, possessed kidnapper?” questioned Mayor Guvins. I looked at the mayor who it appeared had been listening after all. He looked vaguely shocked and concerned. Now Rourke was in the position of having to explain it to him. I let her, she did a fairly good job of leaving out as many of the supernatural facts as she could, and minimized my involvement to the point of almost not mentioning me at all. "And that's the whole truth is it?” he asked. "Just about." Rourke didn't look at him as she said it, but fiddled with the handle on her desk draw. I wasn't a police officer, but even I knew a tall-tale when I saw one, Rourke had to be one of the worse liars I'd ever known.

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"Miss Farbanks, was it? Is that all?” asked the mayor. "Not all,” I said. I'd drop Rourke in it if I had to. Rourke shot me a look to tell me to shut up. I gave her one back saying I wasn't going to cover her ass if it wasn't going to benefit me. "She hasn't mentioned that the groups mainly affected by this case are all preternaturals. Who, feeling failed by the police department's lack of concern for their issues, came to me and I discovered the connection,” I said. “I led the police to the murdered parties that have become their main concern, because the victims were both human." "If it's only a death, why not pass it over to homicide?” asked the mayor. I felt a smile creep across my face. I'd almost forgotten about our visit from DI Hamilton and the way he'd completely managed to ruffle Rourke's feathers. Now that was an ace in the hole I could use, with pressure from the mayor to keep his constituents in a good mood. This year, I knew his opponent in the upcoming race was for far more definition in the law, especially when it came to preternaturals. "Because it's a death by supernatural means,” said Rourke, begrudgingly. I looked at Rourke who was sad to have to admit it. But if it kept the case from Hamilton, all the better, she distinctly didn't like him because they had history. Intimate history. "What you also leave out is that there could be more. Our possessee is involved with what I believe could be an illegal underground magic market. I think I can find it and get in. Help my clients with their closure and perhaps even save a few lives. But because none of these lives are either completely human or your average Jo, she doesn't care and won't help." Rourke sat up straight and made a gesture towards me. One that was trying to illustrate, that she was going to make this as plain as possible. "We don't have the manpower or the resources. Although the city has made this department because people wanted it, they wanted it to keep the monsters from doing damage—not the other way around. Taxpayers don't care what happens to the monsters, in fact, they're relieved when there are suddenly less of them." The mayor coughed and looked towards Rourke, who felt something coming and braced her hands on the arms of her chair. "I'm surprised by your attitude, Rourke, not that I don't understand it. It's clear to me that perhaps you were the wrong person for this job..." "I could recommend a replacement!" I smiled perkily if it came to that, I would push LeBron's name through. I could talk to him, he was open-minded and he would be far better for the unit. "I don't think that's quite necessary. I'm sure DI Rourke will take into consideration, that preternatural voters in this city now number forty eight percent and it's increasing year after year. Especially seeing as,

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in the summer, the bill passed that allowed residential elves to vote as well. It is important that we are seen doing something about this matter. Miss Farbanks is willing to risk her self by actually going in and doing all the hard work. All you have to do is give a little force and that will put it into the success category. And in the morning papers for them to read and make you—us—look good." So image really was everything. Attack it and well, people just rushed to its defence, didn't they—even those who didn't really want to. "I can even make a call to the Magical Council and get them to send a few enforcers along. They won't tolerate this kind of behaviour either, especially if there are any wizards involved,” I said, once again trying to sweeten the deal. Rourke thought it over, she was getting pressured now, it would take one last thing to make her break and I had it in my pocket. I pulled out DI Hamilton's business card. "If Rourke really doesn't have the power for this case, DI Hamilton offered to help me with anything I needed." She looked at me, gob smacked, like she couldn't believe I'd just gone and said it. But I had and it had got me everything I wanted. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-one The sound of the commotion outside of the room was distracting as I tried to reach around to pull up the sleeve of my jacket. It was hard, when I had chains limiting my movement. Aram stared at me. "The cavalry, pet?” he asked. "The police. I went in to see them this afternoon. They gave me this little stick in my pocket. It's got a little locating beacon in it, so they've been following us ever since I turned it on, when we left Wraithe's. On the bottom, it's got a little button. They said if I jammed it in, it would send a sudden stronger signal that would tell them I needed them to storm the place." "How did you convince them in the end?” asked Magnus. I looked at him, he was as close to me as he could get and even then he was straining on the collar around his neck. "Pressure, political pressure and a huge amount of emotional black mail." I caught the end of my sleeve and shook it hard until the chalk fell out of its little hidden pocket. It rolled closer to my leg where I managed to roll it up my hip so I could grab it in my hand. I pressed down to the ground, as close as I could get to the hook on the floor that my neck was attached to. "You can't do magic on the chains, I've tried,” came Bethany's voice. I rolled my eyes back over to Bethany, who was moving her jaw about uncomfortably after having her

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mouth forced shut by Lilith for a while. Either the power had been dissipating or Lilith was too distracted to keep it up. "I know I can't do magic on the chains. There is nothing though that has indicated I can't do it on the floor." She watched me draw a circle on the floor around the hook. Now came the bit I hated. With me trussed up in chains that dulled magic, I was going to need a boost. I put my thumb into my mouth and bit down hard. Blood welled up to the surface seeping out through the wound I'd inflicted. I wiped it on top of the chalk line, letting it seep in. I tapped the edge and focused on what I wanted. "Shield." A shield rose up and the chain snapped. Shields this small tended to have one flaw, if anything got in the way of one of the walls, it would slice it in half, locking the half inside the circle in and the second half outside. I could move more easily now that my neck wasn't pinned down. Bethany looked down at me with her eyes wide. "She's brilliant,” she gasped. Magnus looked up at his sister and gave a little smile. "I know." I ignored the pair of them and got to work on the chains remaining on my wrists, as the same principle had to apply. If I could cut them loose and then look for a way to unlock the shackle part, I could ditch them all together. The left chain snapped, then the right and I pushed up onto my feet wobbling a little bit as my leg felt numb on one whole side. Sensation slowly came back in pinpricks up and down the flesh. I hobbled to the wall and used it to support myself until I could feel the floor properly under my foot. I looked at Bethany again, she was sparkling with hope like a child. She wasn't much older looking than I was, but I knew she had a good twenty years on me. With that look on her face, she looked instantly so young I knew why her father called her a child. I was suddenly her hero and for some reason, that made me more nervous then being chained to the floor had. "You've been here a while, any idea where she keeps things like keys,” I asked her. "Not down here with us, up the top of the steps maybe." She tried to shrug like she didn't really know, but with her arms chained above her like that it was hard. I was going to find the keys and get her down. The chains were like weights as I dragged them across the floor to the other side. I looked up the stairs to where a big bolt was slid across a metal door. It could be opened from both sides but it looked like it would take a lot of strength to do it. Shame that there didn't appear to be a handy back door. I saw two hooks on the wall by the door and on it hung keys, a great many keys. I knocked them to the floor and sat trying each one in the locks. "Andra?” came Aram's voice, worried because I was out of his sight. "Hold on, okay, I won't be long." The left shackle clicked open with an old iron looking key. I slid it into the other keyhole and it opened.

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"Got it." I pushed it into the collar and let it drop to the floor with a loud crash and I felt it was much easier to breathe and swallow. I rubbed my wrist and there was a good feeling as the throb of blood was able to pump freely through to my hands again. I pulled myself to my feet. I pressed my hand to the metal door for support so I could feel what was going on. There was a lot of power being unleashed, dark and good, it was a real fight. Then I heard the sound of gunshots. I don't know what it was about that sound but it told me I had to hurry. I rushed back down the steps and went straight for Bethany. She dropped a couple of inches in height when, without the chains, she was lowered to her feet. There was only an inch between us, with her as the taller. She rubbed her wrists, as they were so red against her white skin, blotchy and sore from rubbing. "Thank you,” she said. "You can thank me when we all get out of here, alright." She nodded in agreement, adding something about eggs and one basket as she moved over to where her brother was. He was still chained up but she threw herself at him, hugging him tight. I thought she wanted to cry but not with all these people watching. I moved to Aram next. "Should I see if we can get the chains to go?" He gave me a wicked grin as I had to leap up his body to reach where he was shackled. "Behave or I will leave you here." He wrapped his freed arms around me, pressing me into his body. I felt a blush creep up my face as he held me. "Aram?” I questioned what he was doing. "I am so glad she did not, could not do to you what she intended." I smiled up at him. "Yeah, me too." I pushed away and headed across the room to where, in the shadows, there were a couple of other figures. Both of them gave off a werewolf vibe when I got closer to them. One seemed very weak and I had to wake the other one. He helped the weak one to his feet. "What's wrong with him?" The one that had been sleeping grimaced. "He was last night's entertainment." I remembered the werewolf baiting I'd witnessed on my way through. I couldn't imagine what that could do to a werewolf, even a level five who could take a hell of a lot. "What happened to the other two of you?” I asked.

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"Mack was dragged out that way before the market began, like Tim here was last night. But you came and distracted her from making Tim like Robert.” He signalled with his head to the trolley, that was little more than lumps of meat under a blanket. "I am sorry." "Don't be sorry to us, it's his wife that's going to need the sympathy. Did you see Mack?" "He was alive when I saw him on the way through. The police are out there, they'll help him." He scoffed. “Not likely." He supported his mate as best as he could. He seemed incredibly tired himself, and it was probably a lack of sustenance and water, although it appeared he'd been getting some sleep. I left them and went to the last of the chained. Magnus was stroking his sister's head gently as she rested against him. "I don't mean to break things up but I need to get to him." Bethany moved a little so I could squeeze in. I was surprised by how roomy his arms were, they could fit both of us into them easily. I unlocked his chains on one side, gave him the key and left him to jostle his sister about so he could do the others. Aram was leaning over the female vampire looking down into her face. She looked like she was sleeping and she shouldn't be. "They are both much like Sienna, sleeping at night. They are soulless,” he said, with such pity in his voice. I'd always used to think it was the way vampires were supposed to be. I knew now they were human bodies given a second eternal life by the residency of some sort of demonic power in them. Soulless was the way they were meant to be. But it was nothing like that. They had souls, it was their very souls returning to them at night that let them get up. Vampirism was an affliction of the body, not the spirit. It was a kind of magic, I supposed, but one I didn't understand. I looked at the little glowing bottles on the shelf. I didn't understand why it worked the way it did, but I did understand it worked. And if broken, I thought I could fix it. I looked around me and spotted a piece of broken pipe leaning in the corner. I took it firmly it both hands testing the weight of it. Yes, I thought, this will do quite nicely. I gripped it firmly and swung it through the shelf containing the glowing bottles. Some fell to the floor, one broke and the light whizzed off escaping. The few that lay unbroken on the floor, I smashed the end of the pipe through. The lights in them buzzed, while zooming across the room and both vampires sat bolt upright, gasping like they needed air, but we all knew they didn't. Aribella looked at Aram who was standing next to her, she smiled when she saw him. "Sir,” she said politely. “I do believe some thanks are in order." Aram smiled. "Do not direct them at me, direct them at my lovely with the pipe." I gave a little half wave in her direction. She peered around Aram at me, taking in my appearance, but she didn't say anything to me. She reached up her hand and Aram took it, helping her to get down from

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the trolley to stand. She scooped up her shawl and bag quietly. I turned around a little to see how Sinatra was doing. He was staring down at his bare feet probably as I had been, puzzling about what had happened to his slippers. Aribella was older than Sinatra and her boots were authentic, making her having been changed in the eighteen hundreds. Sinatra looked like he might have died in the nineteen twenties. He was the kind of man that if you put him into a suit, he might look very comfortable next to a flapper girl on a dance floor. He looked at me, smiled quite brightly, flashing fangs and nodded his head. At least someone was acknowledging my work. "So,” I said, breaking what was getting to be an uncomfortable silence. “Now would be a good time for anyone to tell me if they know where the back door is." The two vampires and Aram stared at me, like they were trying to figure out whether I was being serious or attempting to be funny. With some vampires, humour was very hit or miss. Most of the time, they were divided between they got that something was meant to be funny but they didn't get it and not knowing it was humour. Bethany shook her head. "There isn't one,” she said. "Okay, then maybe we can make a back door. All these rooms are connected by at least one wall in common; we could blast through right into an empty passageway." "Blast, with what? I see no explosives." Sinatra spoke, a little like Bing Crosby. I half wanted him to break into a rendition of ‘ White Christmas'just to see if he could pull it off. I smiled. "We have a pretty talented half-elf and a happy little magical girl. I think we could pull off a small explosion. The worst we'll have to deal with is a little rubble." Magnus grabbed my leg. Without realising it, I'd strutted across the room while I was talking and gesturing emphatically. He looked up at me, cradling Bethany. "I don't think she can manage it." Damn it, I thought, there goes my brilliant plan. "So what now, little Philly?" I looked at Sinatra; there was definitely the hint of something American in his voice, what he was doing in Worcester of all places, I didn't know. "Yes, child, do tell.” This came from the snotty, peroxide-blonde vampire. I didn't mind much that she called me a child, to her, I probably was, but her tone was very unappreciated. "I'm thinking about it." We couldn't go out the front way although we could probably get the door open between us. But we'd walk right into a firefight, emerging from the wrong side. Friendly fire was not a good way to die. I took a deep steadying breath, telling myself over and over again that I would come up with a way out of this. I drew in another breath. I found a sweet syrupy smell enter my nose, a strange smell to come at this time. I took a deep breath and it came stronger. Ginger, I was smelling ginger. I scanned the floor and saw it,

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hiding behind the wheel of the gurney by the shelves. Its blue icing eyes looked over me like it could actually see all of us. I moved quickly towards it. When it saw me get closer just a little too late it turned to run, but I dived catching it. "Gotcha, now how did you get in here?" It struggled, shedding sugar all over my hands. I watched it flailing its arms and reaching out in the direction of a corner flagstone that was being held up by a shadowy head with only one good eye. "You,” I said with surprise. "Me,” he said. I recognised the Dark Elf that had grabbed my wrist in the market. He pushed the stone further across so he could move up a little higher. "You are perhaps in need of a timely exit,” he said with a little bow. "Are we ever!” I looked down into the hole but it was completely black. “What's down there?” I asked. "Sewer." I pulled a face while still clutching the gingerbread man in my hand and turned to the others. "Alright, kids, everybody into the pool." The one-eyed elf pulled himself out of the hole to allow people to go down. The werewolves went first. The elf and I moved towards the back of the line. "I should apologise to you,” he said softly. “I thought you were the one I'd been told about, but when you wanted to come down here to this dark place so convincingly, and the vampire." "Hang on, told about?" He looked at me like he was going to avoid answering me if he could. I was going to press, but he was saved by a commotion beside the hole. Aribella had stopped dead, looked down and was shaking her head. "No, I refuse. My dress. My shoes,” she whined. I grumbled, turning my attention to her as she was holding us all up. “Look Frosty the Snow Vampire—" Aribella looked at me with disbelief. "Yes I'm talking to you. You have two choices, either you go down the hole or I push you down the hole. Decide, the second option's more fun—well fun for me." "Jump, Aribella doll, I shall catch you,” came Sinatra's voice from down below. He'd had no problem getting in the hole and he wasn't wearing shoes. Aribella held her nose, as gracefully as possible, and took a step in as if she was being sentenced to walk off the plank. Her body

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vanished out of sight and a grunt came from below. "Aribella, sweet, you should lay off the fine cuisine for a while,” laughed Sinatra. I turned back to see who was left, Aram was stood watching the door as it came inwards. Magnus and the cloaked elf were helping Bethany along. I loosened my grip on the little gingerbread man and allowed it to hop onto her shoulder. "Eat him, he'll help your energy." Bethany gave me a weak smile and between them, they got her down into the hole. Magnus stared at me. "Your turn,” he said. "I've got to finish up, you take care of your sister." He looked between the pipe and my face, nodding. Suddenly his arms were around me, his voice soft in my ear, as he said, “be careful,” and then he dropped down the hole out of sight. "Pet, we must be quick to join them." Aram turned away from the door motioning us both towards the hole in the floor. "Just a minute." I raised the metal bar up and started smashing the things up that remained on the shelves. I was going to leave nothing for that bitch to make a profit on. It was my very own version of a going out of business sale . I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, then I took a deep breath of relief. "You know that's quite cleansing,” I said with a smile. Then I went flying across the room. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-two I waited for that bone-shaking thud of my body hitting the opposite wall, but it didn't come. I opened my eyes when I realised I'd not hit the wall. My feet had come down under me again to hold me upright, a few inches away from the floor. Lillith stood at the top of the steps. Her arm was still outstretched towards me but she was bent over, supporting her weight against the wall, breathing heavily and retching. She raised her head, and I saw the hair around her face had gone lanky, drenched and was sticking to her face. For a moment, she looked like a melting waxwork. I might have laughed if it wasn't for the angry stare she'd fixed me with. "You little bitch,” she seethed.

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I felt vaguely smug and highly superior. "Less of the little,” I said. There was a thundering sound from behind her, banging and crashing as they struggling to get through the door. She'd come in through the door, bolted and secured it to keep those pursuing her out. I felt a grimace cross my face because the door was solid metal. I was positive they wouldn't get it open, not before I was forced into a show down with the demon I'd just gone and really pissed off. I swallowed hard and tried to fight my natural instinct to goad her on. I shot a look toward Aram who'd moved to stand so he was blocking Lilith's view of our escape route, so that it was still an open option. The only real problem left about Lillith—was the fact she was a woman with little left to lose. Well, if you could call her a woman at all, and I wasn't inclined not to. She moved towards me quite menacingly at first, until she wobbled and crashed to her knees. All of sudden she looked so frail and weak, I found myself wondering why I'd ever been afraid of her. "God—” She gave a decimated laugh. “You humans burn out so quickly." She raised her eyes to me and her face was piteous, as if she felt sorry for us when she was the one on the floor, dying. Hopefully, minutes from a return journey to the hell she'd been summoned from. "Aram,” she cooed, “be a gentleman. Help me to sit up so I can die with dignity." I held my hand out to him as he began to move towards her. "Don't you dare, if she gets a hold of you, you're a hostage. We can lay her out properly when she's dead." Lillith looked at me sadly. "Do you have no heart? A little dignity, some mercy, is all I ask." "And how many of your captives did you strip of their dignity? Ignore their pleas for mercy? I trust you about as far as I can throw you." She gave a little smirk, she'd obviously figured because I was supposed to be the good guy, that I was incredibly naïve as well. I wasn't. I wasn't going to go near her until I knew she was good and properly gone. Then Jane's family could have her body to bury. She was taking deep heaving breaths as it got harder and harder to force her lungs to work. She pushed up onto her knees with the last of her strength and I saw desperation fill her eyes. The gurney to my left swung fast towards me. I hurried to get out of the way, stumbling towards her. Her arms hooked around my legs dragging me to the floor. She clambered and crawled over me, fighting my arms to bring her head within inches. I looked up into her eyes as she kissed me. She thrust her power at the shield trying to break through again. "Do we need a safety word here, or are we just gonna keep going until we hear the sound of vital organs rupturing?" She took a breath and tried again.

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"You couldn't take it the last time,” I said. "I'm not taking, I'm giving." Her mouth forced itself back over my mine and the last of her breath pulsed inside me, bringing with it something dark and menacing climbing down my throat. The body on top of me became a dead weight, sprawled over mine. I started to heave it off me but my arms felt numb like I wasn't in control of them. Everything in the room seemed distant, although I could see Aram was standing close to me his voice couldn't have sounded more far away. "Andra, are you all right?” he asked. "I think..." I was barely managing to speak when something over rode me, it was still my voice but the tone and words were not my own. "Would you kiss me in this body, Aram?" I laughed though I didn't want to. I could feel a heat inside me, a burning that wasn't supposed to be there, it was like a sauna inside my own body. Heat rising under my skin so that it filled me, made me burn like it was consuming me. Hands wrapped around my wrists, cold cool hands. Aram was holding them and I was still laughing, laughing at him, laughing because she'd survived. Lillith was inside me—she'd pushed herself inside me and was trying to take control. I was not going to let this happen, I was going to fight her. I felt my head drop. "Get out of me, you..." The laughter broke over my words stuffing me down again, pushing me to the back. Lillith was here and she was going to do everything she could to keep control. To stuff me into a box, like she had with the consciousness of all the others she'd stolen the body from. I knew in that moment, this was what my dreams had been warning me against. It was what the final card had been telling me about at Virginia's. I had to fight. I had to fight for what I believed in, but I found myself struggling to find what it was I believed in. I felt her cackle from inside my skull. I tried to tear away from her but found I was pulling away from Aram, when his grip increased on my wrists. He wasn't going to let me go. I managed to force my head up to look into his eyes, they were confused. He didn't know who was pulling away from him, he didn't know if I had lost completely. "Andra, Andra, say something to me,” he pleaded. "What words would you like, lover ... God will you shut up." I struggled with the burning inside of me, it was like being licked by the flames of hell from all sides. It liked how I tasted and wanted to consume me. I was frightened. What do I believe? The question nagged at me. "You don't believe in anything, I can see it there in the back of your mind—you're nothing compared to me." "I ... I am..."

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I dropped to my knees. I could feel my hands on my skull, my fingers digging in like I would claw her out of my brain if it came to it. But even then, I could feel her controlling my fingers so that I didn't press too hard and do anything to damage the body she was going to end up living, in for however long it lasted. She wanted me alive, well and able for her to go on in my place when I was gone. That's how I found it though, where I found the strength. I knew what I believed in. I believed I was stronger, I believed I was smarter, and that my body was my own—I was also sure she belonged in hell so I was going to fight her. "You're not going to win, bitch, you're going to get the hell out of me..." Her evil cackle bubbled out of my mouth and I couldn't stop it, I slammed my fist down on the floor and felt her weaken—the pain, the cold of the floor—it made me think a little clearer, made her recede. I needed cold. "Aram..." He came forward. I looked up at him, there was something there in his face that told me I could ask whatever I wanted of him right now, and as long as it wasn't his death, he would give it to me. "Andra. What do I do? I don't..." I reached up, I would control my body. Lillith was an unwelcome passenger and it was time for her to get out. My fingers curled over the rim of his jeans pulling him down, his knees smashed on the ground before me, he was still taller than me but not by much. My hands ran over the shirt, looking for the gap through which I could find his skin. As my fingers found it, the coolness of it made the fire under my skin ease. But it wasn't enough I needed more, I ripped at his shirt, the buttons flying off in all directions. I pressed every inch of his skin across mine, touching the cold. He shuddered under my touch. "Pet, you're...” he mumbled. "So cold,” I cooed. “I need the cold, I need your body." He pulled what was left of his shirt off so that he was naked from the waist up. He wrapped his arms around me, moving my jacket away from my waist so his hands could move along the skin between my top and shorts. It sent a cool shiver up my spine. Lillith pushed her way forward. "Kiss me, Aram, I want you to kiss me." He shook his head. She grumbled inside me and I clawed at his muscles, digging my nails in making half-moon shaped welts in his skin. He leaned his head around my mine so that my neck could press into the cold of the skin on his shoulder. The burning was increasing. Lillith was going to burn me out of my body. If I wasn't going to surrender it to her, she was going to try and kill me along with her. I needed a way to cool my body and lacking an ice bath, I went for the more extreme of my options. "Bite me,” I said. Aram pulled back to look into my face. I locked my eyes with his but I was feeling the burn inside me and I might have flinched. He shook his head. I hooked my hand around his neck. I was beginning to get hazy but I know I said something to him. He moved a few strands of my loose hair moving down to my neck. His lips were soft on my neck, gentle, caressing the skin underneath with his tongue, pulling the skin up into his mouth. I didn't want a hickey. My pulse sped up and his body tensed. I knew he could feel the

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blood pulsing underneath it. He was without blood and the hunger filled him. His mouth opened wider and I felt the prick of his fangs against my skin. Just do it, I thought, just do it. As if he'd heard me, he plunged in. I know I screamed, as his mouth locked over the wound drawing my blood up into him. His throat flexed with the swallowing and I could feel the panic in my stomach, not just my own but Lillith's. My blood flowed into him and I felt the cold come into my body, the threat of the end and she became like a caged thing, trying to find a way to stop it. She gripped his arms pushing at him but he didn't move. He didn't feel it because he was lost in the feeding. I closed my eyes, as deep down in the core of me, I saw her struggling. I felt the fire stop trying to consume me, in order to redirect its effort to stopping Aram at my throat. She was going back to hell, one way or another. I felt a red light behind my eyes—the colour of my power, of my magic, a deep glittering red that was welling up. I heard a cry, a high-pitched sound, like that of a bird, and it rushed from me at her. I cried out, throwing my head back, my mouth flying wide and I propelled her from me..She hung in the air above me like the soul of a ghost—dark black, tinged with purple mist, angrily burning out of our reality back to where she came from. Over ninety years in our plane of existence and I was sending her back. Good riddance. "Aram..." I pushed at him, his mouth still locked on the wound in my neck, my body began to shake, all the strength in me was draining away under his constant supping and the cold was growing steadily to fill me up. I panicked beating at him with my fist. "Stop, please stop..." My pulse began to ebb, slowing my heart, until it barely beat in my chest, my hands slipped away because I couldn't hold them up anymore and my vision began to haze over. I'd beaten out the demon but now came the price it was going to cost me, my own life. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-three I felt the floor greet me as Aram was pulled away from me. I lay there knowing I was still bleeding, as I could feel it running down my neck under my top, but I couldn't find the energy to stop it. How did people find pleasure in this? People went to Dante's to get this inflicted on them and I now had a new respect for how stupid these people really were. "Ah Jesus! Cassandra? Cassandra, can you hear me?" Cloth and pressure came against my neck, the flow slowed and a face was above mine, but I couldn't see who. My eyes were out of focus and I felt so very tired. There came a loud crash and the sound of more feet entering the room, there were clicks and the sound of people exhaling. "Don't anybody move." That was Rourke's voice. It rang through my ears shaking my head, so that a little of my world came

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back into view. I could see who was above me now. Magnus was pressing Aram's shirt into the wound. Aram was nowhere to be seen, he'd vanished down the hole Magnus had come back from. "Mag...” I tried to say his name but I gurgled blood. I coughed and felt it rain down on my face, his fingers wiped it away. "We need an ambulance,” he cried out. "Nobody is going anywhere until this place is secure,” came Benjamin's voice. I felt cold in the pit of my stomach and thought I was going to be sick, but I was too tired to heave it up. I started to close my eyes. "Stay awake, damn it, stay awake,” Magnus pleaded. I felt my eyes shoot back open at his command. There were more people around me, looking down at me like some strange sort of wake. I felt a surge of pain go through my body. A pain that reminds you that yes, you are still alive but you might not be for much longer. I let out a muffled scream. "What's wrong with her?" It was Rourke I could hear now, the voice came from behind me and I knew she was properly entering the room. Magnus twisted his body trying to keep me comfortable. "Your idiot men won't let me take her out of here, she needs medical attention." "Farchild can't be hurt that bad." I gave a shuddering cry, as he moved the cloth to show her the wound in my neck. She gave a gasp of sheer horror. "Christ, what did that to her? Call a unit,” yelled Rourke. "God damn A...” he started. I squeezed his arm and he stopped speaking I tried to fill my eyes with what I wanted to say to him. I didn't want the cops to know it had been Aram that had bitten me. I'd deal with him later when it came to it. "A vampire, one that was working for the demon, when Cassandra forced her to end her possession, it attacked her. I came back when I heard her scream,” he said. I wanted to smile; maybe he was as good at lying as I was. His arm slid under my legs and I felt myself being pulled up into the air. I swung around and I could see all the people looking at him. Benjamin was standing just behind Rourke and even his face had filled with a strange sort of concern. Rourke was yelling for someone to give her a radio. "She's lost too much blood—it won't get here fast enough. I'll take her to the hospital in my car." Magnus barged through the doors and I knew he was moving at a run, as fast as he could carrying my weight along with him. All around us there were eyes watching. The cloth had slipped and was dribbling

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my blood down his shirt. Soon, we were out in the cold air, emerging to the sound of more guns and the buzz of power. "Lower your weapons ... now ... they're on our side,” shouted another voice I vaguely recognised. "Who?" Magnus looked down at me and gave me a reassuring smile. “Michael." He came through to us, touched the wound on my neck. I cried with the pain and he apologised, confirming what I needed was a hospital. "Can you drive?” asked Magnus. "Yeah,” said LeBron. “Course." "I meant with your ankle." He laughed. “It wasn't as bad as it first looked. I'm fine. Let's help those who need it first. What do you say?" "My keys are in my pocket." He turned to allow LeBron access to his pocket, then we were moving again. I felt like I was floating because it wasn't my feet that were moving us to the car. The cool of the leather of the back seat melted against my skin as I was laid down on it. My feet were bunched up as the door closed, then the door behind me opened and my head was elevated onto Magnus's lap. It was very comfortable and once again, I wanted to sleep. My eyes felt so heavy and I knew that when I slept, my dreams this time would at least be pleasant. No more dreams of being burned alive from the inside out. Magnus shook me hard. "Don't you dare go to sleep! You go to sleep and you're dead, do you understand me?" What was so bad about that? A quiet peaceful death, just drifting off to sleep. It was a better death than I could have hoped for. I'd seen people who'd died worse ways, my mother had died in pain, she'd want this for me. The minute I thought it, I knew I was wrong. It was like I could hear her voice in my head, she wouldn't want me to give up. She was yelling at me, telling me to fight, that she didn't want to see me yet. It was far too early in my life for me to join her where she was, no matter how much I sometimes wanted to. I opened my eyes and tried to stare at the traffic as it zoomed by in a blur of headlights streaming through the black of the sky. I pushed in closer to the warmth of Magnus, hoping it would abate the coldness that was filling me, because the wound on my neck wasn't closing. My body was desperately making more blood, only to have it pumped out the gaping holes in my neck. "It's not much further, hold on, a little bit longer,” said Magnus, stroking my hair. LeBron honked the horn, swerving through traffic to the sound of several angry honks in return. He took a sharp turn and I banged my head on the door. I wanted to complain but couldn't as I couldn't manage words, my throat hurt so much more now that I was trying to stay awake. The car stopped and LeBron was getting out.

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"Hey, you can't park here, this is an ambulance zone." He ignored them, I could tell, as the backdoor of the car opened and they struggled between them to get me out. I felt my feet touch the ground just for a minute, but I was lifted back up into Magnus's arms, he did it like I weighed absolutely nothing. "Did you hear me?" LeBron walked in front of us, flashing his badge. Then the two men dressed in scrubs—who appeared to be on a cigarette break—saw me and the blood. "Jesus, bring her inside but you'll still have to move the car." LeBron looked back at Magnus and I felt him nod, and it was just the two of us rushing into the hospital. I was laid on a gurney and we were speeding through the emergency department. Another figure dressed in a white coat, joined us and I had no doubt it was probably a doctor. "What happened here?” they asked. "Vampire attack!” said Magnus. "Really? She's lost a lot of blood then. We'll clean the wound, remove the saliva that's stopping the wound from healing and start her on a transfusion. Do we know her blood type?" We crashed through some doors and I heard Magnus's voice over the others. "She's O-negative." My mind whirled as to when I had ever discussed what my blood type was with him. The fact that he knew it was a little odd, seeing as I myself had no idea what my blood type was. "Shit that's a rare one, call the bank see if we've got enough of it on ice; we'll need about six units to start, maybe more." "Will she be alright?” asked Magnus. "You're going to have to wait outside,” said the doctor, forcing him away. I tried to call to him. I didn't want him to leave. I didn't want to be alone. I don't like hospitals; I never have and never will. Perfectly healthy people walk into them and die, then they're gone forever. I felt hands on my neck. I brought mine up to fight as they tried to tear the locket away. "You'll get it back. Don't worry, don't worry. Can someone ask the boyfriend her name?" They didn't understand I needed the locket, it was the only thing keeping me here and it had to be painfully close to sun up as it was. The doors flapped open and closed a couple of times while I felt cool cloth on my neck. "Cassandra, can you turn your head to me, Cassandra?" I turned towards the sound of the voice, there was a woman bent over me. The woman in the white

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coat, the doctor who'd joined us on our way through. She had short blonde hair, dark eyes and looked like her job had aged her more than her years had. "You're going to have to have some stitches in your neck, looks like whoever it was took a fair bite out of you,” she said. I watched her lips part as she spoke to me, it was all I could focus on because I wasn't hearing all of the words. A fair bite, most of the damage probably happened when Magnus pulled him so unceremoniously off me. "We can't give you anything for the pain, because we don't want you to fall asleep." "I won't." She looked at me, surprised when I managed to squeeze those two little words out of my throat. I'd wanted to say them to Magnus, to reassure him, but it had taken so long to force them up. "Won't, won't what?” asked the doctor. "Sleep." "That's a good girl. Okay, let's get those stitches in and chase up, where the hell my blood is!” she yelled. I felt myself drifting in and out, not really ever sleeping but sometimes I lost focus so completely, I might as well have had my eyes closed, the sound came and went as well. I came around slowly and I was in a cubicle, still lying on the gurney with a tube in my arm sending fresh red blood into me. A nurse was checking it as I tried to sit up. She noticed and was quick to help me. "Don't try to speak too soon, you don't want to tear your stitches." I touched the bandage around the base of my neck. I felt a sting as I touched where the actual wound lay underneath; it was in the groove between my neck and my shoulder. I looked around the cubicle and no one else was there besides the nurse and me. I think she sensed I was hoping to see someone when I woke up and touched my hand. "He's upstairs, the police wanted to talk to him, get him to identify who attacked you. He shouldn't be much longer." I looked at the hand that was touching mine and the watch on her wrist, it was pointing to twenty to six in the morning. The sun would rise in a few minutes and I couldn't be here. Not some place so public. I grabbed the IV in my arm starting to pull at it. The nurse began to panic, trying to stop me and calling for help. I shoved her hard, she stumbled over backwards and I forced it out. It stung like hell, I put my hand over it, shielding it from the germs in the air as I swung my legs over the side. Standing was hard,as I'd been off my feet for so long that they felt shaky. The air blew up the back of the hospital gown I'd been changed into. I could see my jean shorts on the chair and pulled them on quickly as the curtain was pulled back. The blonde doctor came in. "Cassandra, what do you think you're doing? Get back in that bed."

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The nurse pulled herself up slowly from the floor, while rubbing her head, she looked at the bemused doctor. "She's pulled out the IV." The doctor looked down at the floor, where the rest of the pack of blood was spilling out slowly across the tiles, we both knew it was a waste, but they wouldn't understand why I couldn't stay here. I found my jacket nearby and pulled that on too. The doctor grabbed me roughly by the shoulders. "If this is about the bloke, he'll come down in a minute, wait here for him, get your treatment,” she pleaded with me. I shook my head at her, but I couldn't speak, the stitches had made the skin on my throat go incredibly tight, even when I swallowed, it felt like there was a huge lump I could barely push past. "What is it?" I pressed my two fingers together and pressed them to her forehead. I didn't know if this would work without the other party being magical but I could at least give it a go. I focused on what I wanted to tell her, that I didn't want treatment and that I wanted to leave. She moved back away from me, the look on her face was one of pure disbelief. She obviously didn't believe what I'd just done, so I knew she'd heard me. I looked around desperately, for my shoes, but couldn't find them, I had a vague flash of looking down my body in the emergency room, seeing them being cut off me and binned. Damn, I thought, I really liked those shoes. I'd have to go out of here bare foot. I started to walk when the doctor put her hand on my arm in a last ditch attempt to convince me to stay. I was an adult, I had the right to refuse treatment and she knew it would have to be my idea to stay. "You're still weak, you need more blood and fluids or you'll collapse. Think about this seriously, will you?" I had thought about it seriously, if the sun came up and I vanished, I'd be in the same situation but who knows where I would be when I switched over. I was pretty sure the hospital here was on a different site to the one in my reality. Pretty sure they'd demolished the old one and turned it into houses. The last thing I needed to do was explain to someone how and why I'd appeared in their living room. I broke the doctor's grip. I could feel the buzz of the switch starting in my feet, so I took up a run. I had to get outside at least. I had to get into the parking lot so that I would hopefully appear on someone's lawn not someone's breakfast table. It took me a minute to realise that the doctor was still pursuing me. I doubled over as the feeling reached my stomach, the doctor touched my shoulders and I shoved her back. "Don't,” I said. And as the sun burst over the horizon, I vanished; popping back into existence on the other side. I was standing in a quiet street. Neatly kept lawns and hedgerows, hydrangea bushes growing under windows ledges and fences with little “please shut behind the gate” signs on them. The main road wasn't far from me so I headed towards it. The new site for the Worcester hospital was down to the left and on the opposite side of the road. I rounded the end of the road stumbling. The doctor had gotten one thing right; I really didn't have the energy for this. If I made it to the hospital without having to take several long rests, then I would be very surprised. I knew I had to get back to one though to finish what the doctors had started, to make me right. Cars zoomed by, up and down the New Town road as I looked for a way to

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cross it safely. I stumbled across the road—a car honked at me and I gave it the finger while carefully standing in the safety of the middle of the road. I waited for a silver Honda civic to pass, then struggled to get my body to the other pavement. To those few people that passed me at this time of morning, my wobbling must have looked like I'd had too much to drink on Saturday night. I swayed and my feet hurt as the harsh loose gravel cut into my skin where it touched. I moved on to what little grass I could find, heading down an access road where the early morning bus was sitting at a stop letting people on. I fell against the glass shelter, shocking an elderly woman who quickly readjusted the tea cosy on her head and got onto the bus. I bee-lined for a bench and dropped clumsily onto it. Accident and Emergency was just around the corner. I pulled my jacket off, as I knew I had to lose the hospital smock from the other one before I went in. So I ripped it off and stuffed it into a trash can. Luckily, I still had my bra on. I put my jacket back on and zipped it up tight. I started towards the corner, getting around it very slowly when I felt my knees begin to buckle. I saw an orderly outside waving goodbye to somebody exiting in a taxi. I fell against him grabbing his shirt and managed two words. "Help me." My world swirled and went dark. I could hear voices when I started to wake up. I blinked as a light came under my eyelid, making my pupil go a little spacey before it slowly it pulled back. "Miss Farbanks, can you hear me?” asked a voice. "Yeah!” I said, trying to sit up. “Can you get the light outta my eyes?" The doctor moved back from me, he was handsome and young. He looked vaguely like my favourite TV character with the five o'clock shadow he was sporting, after pulling what must have been an all nighter. He held my wrist in his hand while timing my pulse to his watch. I sat up a bit and touched my neck—the bandage had been redressed. "You're a very lucky woman. You have everyone talking about you. How you walked here—barefoot, nasty wound, anaemic. What happened?" I shook my head. I couldn't tell him the truth and I couldn't think of anything to say to him. "Alright, don't tell me, it's your prerogative. But you have visitors. Are you up to talking to them?" I nodded and shifted to sit up. He helped me get upright and I could see the drip in my arm again, but it was a clear solution going into me, not blood. I pointed to the bag. "It'll help boost your own red blood count. You were out and had no donor card so I had no idea what blood type you were. We needed to do something and you seem to be responding extremely well." I coughed, trying to speak. He grabbed a plastic cup and quickly filled it with water, from a jug by the bed and pressed it to my lips. I felt it slide down, cool and refreshing. "There now, try again." "Thank you. You're cuter than my last doctor."

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He must have been younger than I thought; he went bright red and lost some of his decorum. I guess a lot of patients didn't turn around and tell him he was cute. He pulled back a long green curtain, tucking it in between the bed and the cabinet next to us, I was the only person in the ward—there was another bed but it lay empty. I could see heads bobbing just outside the door. "I'll let your guest in now." He walked quickly towards the door and opened it, talking briefly to the figure that was trying her best to push past him into the room. Eventually he stepped out of the way and Incarra came barrelling in. I looked at her as she stood at the end of the bed. Her hands were placed angrily on her hips. She stared at me as I gave her a little wave with my hand, trying to complete the gesture of ‘hi, I'm okay’ with a smile. "What the hell happened to you? The doctor said it looked like someone tried to rip your neck out,” she asked. I shrugged, when there is an absence of lies, there is only one last thing you can rely on—faking memory loss. "Don't shrug at me. What happened?" "I don't remember." She looked at me a little more concerned, a little less angry as she pulled a seat over to sit down at my side. "You don't remember?" "No, I came back last night early because I had a disagreement with my friend, left the train station and then I'm here. I don't know what happened." She touched my hand running hers over it. I looked closer at her face, her eyes were red and a little puffy, she'd been crying. It made a tiny pang of guilt erupt in my gut. "You weren't robbed or anything else." "I don't think so. I think I just slipped, cut myself. Doctor says I'm going to be all right. How did you know I was here?" She reached up and knocked me on the head, I winced with it and poked my tongue out at her. "Idiot, my mum and I are listed as your emergency contact, remember? It's in your hospital records." "I forgot." "That seems to be today's theme, along with the letter H and the number seven." I gave a little laugh and put my hand to the wound. It hurt and I took deep breaths trying to get the pain to go away. I swallowed a little to help it ease.

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"I'm sorry, does it hurt a lot?” she said, admiring my bandage. "A bit but it's getting better. I really should learn to watch where I'm going.” I leaned down towards her. “I don't want to stay here. Can you find out if I can go home?" "You're sick, the doctor says you're anaemic and have no energy." "Then you can stuff me with cookies, but please, you know I don't like hospitals." Incarra gave me a look that I matched with a pleading in my eyes, she screwed up her face with a snort of defeat. "I know, I know; they kill more people than they save. I'll talk to them." Incarra got up, heading towards the doors to do her duty as my best friend and badger the doctor into what I wanted. He was adamant that I was to stay in hospital overnight. He had to concede he'd let me go, when I threatened to pull the IV out and walk away, having done it before it could hurt no more a second time around. He agreed and scolded me some but I got my way. I sat in the back of Incarra's mother's car, looking out the window as the sun began to lower in the sky. The car pulled up outside my building, I swung my legs out of the opened back door and Incarra helped me to my feet. "Mum, will you pick me up in an hour or so." I waved my hands and shook my head. "I'll be all right, okay? I'll go straight to bed once I'm in, I swear. I don't need you to baby-sit me. I'll keep my mobile phone on my nightstand all night, so I don't have to get out of bed when you call me every hour to check I'm all right." Incarra looked at me hard in the eyes, standing with her arm resting on top of the open door. "Every half hour,” she said. "Forty five minutes." "Deal. Get some rest, sweetie. I'll see you at college, Monday. Lunch in the canteen, it's Chinese day." "Can't wait." I watched her get back into the car, waving like a moron as they drove off. I headed inside, watching from the entrance as the sun slowly set. [Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-four I kicked the elevator as it passed the fourth floor, to make sure that it didn't get stuck. It whirled

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pleasantly, continuing its ascending glide to the top floor of the building. I held tightly to the bars as it juddered to a halt. I pulled the old grate open and looked at the figure slumped down in front of my door. Magnus's head was hung down against his chest, which was heaving in and out slowly. He was still wearing the same clothes as last night, except the top half of medical scrubs had replaced his shirt. The police had obviously needed it for evidence. I was after all the victim of a vampire attack, a crime that PCU would at least take seriously. His hair had draped over his face and he'd sat, determined to watch the elevator for signs of my arrival home but fallen asleep as the day wore on and tiredness over came him. I couldn't believe that he would have spent his entire day here. Next to him, pressed into his side, was my bag. He'd brought it with him, knowing I would need it back—mainly because my flat keys were in the bag. I'd put them in there to keep them safe after getting them back from Aram. When I thought his name, the wound in my neck ached and I felt angry. He'd sunk his fangs into me, swallowed me whole while nearly killing me, and hadn't even stayed after it had happened. He'd run away from me and hid. Hidden away like he hadn't nearly murdered someone he claimed was so important to him. Was he ashamed because he'd let his hunger get the better of him? Was he embarrassed because I'd finally seen the worst of him. The death he could bring upon a person, just so he could survive? I wasn't sure if I wanted to hate him or whether I wanted to be mad at him forever, or even if they were the same thing. I pulled my bag away from Magnus's side, routing quietly through it to pull out my keys, but I didn't open the door. I thought it only polite to wake him before dropping him backwards onto the floor, while removing his support. I bent down in front of him, taking the end of my hair that surprisingly had still managed to survive in its plait, and ran it along the line of his nose. It twitched and he gave a snorty little snore and shifted a little to make himself more comfortable. What was he dreaming about? Was he having a pleasant dream about me, being safe with him, somewhere together? Jareth had suggested he had great interest in me. He'd showed a deep caring for me. I smiled, thinking I could do a whole lot worse. I touched his face gently with the palm of my hand and he leaned into it, breathing deeply as I ran my thumb gently under his eye. "Come on, Rip Van Winkle, wake up,” I said. He grumbled as if he really didn't want to wake up from his dream. But the warmth of my hand brought him slowly to a place where he thought he would open his eyes to see who was disturbing him. His eyes widened as he looked at me, his arms wrapped around me pulling me into his immense chest, holding me against the heart that was beating so fast. "Where did you go? I was so worried, the doctor said you vanished." "I..." It didn't matter, he didn't really want an excuse, an explanation of where I was. "I'm sorry I worried you,” I said. He let me move back from him and touched the skin gently near my wound. "Does it hurt a lot?” he asked. "It's getting better. I don't like hospitals. I prefer natural healing. I want you to understand that. What did you tell the police? The doctor told me they were interviewing you."

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He sat back, resting his head against the door. He looked up at me as I rose to my feet, hefting the bag strap up onto my shoulder. "I wish I'd told them, told them what he did to you, but you said you didn't want that. So I lied, I told them I barely saw him. I don't know who it was, that he barely bumped me as he passed me on his way out." I don't know why I'd wanted him to lie. I was mad at Aram, but something in me couldn't force me to give the police his name. A name I knew would go on a list of vampires that could be killed on sight. "Thank you. How did you know my blood type?" Magnus growled and banged his fist on the door behind him, before he pulled himself slowly up onto his feet. "He told me it's what you tasted like, as he was running away from his mess. He gave me the one thing he said he could, He should have stayed, he—” Magnus trailed off trying to keep his anger from consuming him. I didn't agree with him and I didn't find myself disagreeing because I thought Aram should have stayed, but I was beginning to get why he hadn't. I shook my head, jangled my keys while motioning for him to move away from the door. "I don't want to talk about this anymore,” I said tiredly. He took a deep breath and I knew he was counting, trying to make his anger dissipate so that he could comfortably change the subject. I so desperately wanted the subject to change. I just wanted to get on and forget about it. It was over, I was going to get paid and I wouldn't have to have any more association with any of the groups involved—not unless I chose to. I pushed the door into my flat open and walked inside. Magnus hung back in the doorway. I dropped the bag on the floor, saw my jeans lying over the back of the couch and sighed a great sigh of relief. "Are you coming in?” I asked. He moved in a little way but didn't really come in too far, the door remained open like he wanted to be able to make a quick exit. I took hold of the jeans and told him to hold his thoughts while I went into the bathroom to change. I put the jeans on and pulled on a jumper that had been hanging over the bathroom railing to dry. There was some dried blood in my hair. I could always shower a little later but there was still something to resolve with Magnus. He was hanging around for a definite reason. "So what is it you want to say to me?" I stopped by the chair as I made my way back into the living room. Magnus was still standing just inside the doorway, but it wasn't him that made me freeze. It was Aram, who was standing in my bedroom. Magnus couldn't see him from where he was, which allowed me to cover it up quite quickly. "Magnus?” I said, reminding him I was talking to him. "Well I was thinking, I mean, I like you, Cassandra."

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I turned to him but I was keeping my eyes on Aram. If he moved to interrupt, I wanted to be able to slam the bedroom door before he reached us. He looked at me with pleading in his eyes. He too wanted to talk to me, his need to talk to me so apparent, it made it slightly more satisfying to ignore him. "I noticed after a while,” I admitted. Actually it had taken Jareth pointing it out, for the nail to really get hit on the head, but I'd known. "Is it a problem?" I smiled at him. "Not at all. I quite like you too." That made him happy, he looked a lot better and stood up straighter. Magnus was quite tall all of a sudden, very masculine and it made my heart jump. Aram made a step towards me, so I turned further away from him. "So, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind if we had that coffee?” he asked. I smiled; I remembered calling a rain check on us having coffee, right back at the beginning of this mess and was surprised he'd remembered it too. "You want to have it here?” I asked, hoping the answer would be no and I think it transferred into my voice. "Um, we could go out if you'd prefer,” he said. I picked my keys up from where they were and put them into the pocket of my jeans. I would definitely prefer to go out. "Do you know a coffee place that will still be open now?” I asked. He scratched his head and shrugged. "Okay let's make it dinner instead,” he said cheerily, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck. "That's good, ‘cause I am really hungry." I reached back to the chair to pick up my jacket and pulled it on. I was going to do my best to keep my wound covered up, so that people wouldn't stare at it. Magnus turned to go out the door and a voice came from the bedroom, barely above a whisper. "Andra." I didn't look. I marched across to the front door, grabbed the handle harshly and pulled it in close to my back. So if he did move out of the bedroom, Magnus wouldn't see him. Magnus looked back at me while holding the elevator open. "What was that?" "Nothing.” And I slammed the door shut.

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[Back to Table of Contents]

About the Author Sonnet O'Dell was born in Oxford, but is currently living in Worcester, England. Sonnet is a dedicated fiction writer, with a B.A. Honours Degree in Creative Writing in 2005. She draws inspiration for her work, from life, mythology and other cultures. [Back to Table of Contents]

Available now from Eternal Press Dracula Doesn't Live Here any More by Brian L. Porter Freelance journalist Alan Dexter and Christina, a beautiful but mysterious Romanian News Agency representative, journey deep into the ancient land of Transylvania to investigate a series of so-called “vampire” murders. High in the Carpathian Mountains, a raging storm develops, and an unknown presence lies in wait for the unwary traveler. As the night closes in and darkness envelops the young couple, Dexter is about to discover the secret of the murders and the truth behind Christina's enigmatic smile ... or is he? Her lips tightened, and she looked away. “There are things you should know before we go any further. Forget about the vampires described by such men as your Bram Stoker. He was very clever in his mix of truth and fiction, but the people here take vampirism quite seriously, and Stoker was inaccurate in much of his data." "In what way?” Dexter frowned. "Well, for a start, vampires, contrary to Stoker, can actually move about in daylight, though their powers are greatly reduced. Secondly, they do not feed exclusively on human blood. They can take cattle or fowl, or indeed any living thing, though of course human blood is the ultimate feast for the undead. Most of the time they eat whatever they can get, often the same food as ordinary humans. It keeps them alive, but in a weakened state. "It is said that all vampires must feast on human blood every so often in order to maintain their human form, so a vampire may go months, maybe years, without tasting human and then go on a feeding frenzy when the need becomes imperative. If they are unable to fulfil their hunger, they become shriveled, and eventually nothing more than amorphous entities, condemned to inhabit a sort of half-world between the light and the darkness, losing forever the ability to hold onto their corporeal bodies. It must be a tragic sight to see a vampire losing its hold on bodily substance, Dexter, or at least, so the story goes." [Back to Table of Contents]

Available now from Eternal Press Shadow on the Crystal By Brittany Kingston

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For years Whisper has hunted his arch enemy, the vampire Santez de Aragon. Whisper intends to kill the vile murderer and put an end to his evil ways once and for all. Katherine Browning finds herself attracted to the tall, handsome Gypsy, who wards off the unwelcome attentions of her brother's tutor. But soon she discovers that Whisper is not what he appears to be. Whisper tightened his grip on his sword. “I will never be like you." Santez circled their tight arena. “You are me. Do not deny you lust for blood the same way I do. You crave it. You take it wherever you can. You can't get enough of it.” His eyes, like embers, ignited when his gaze came to rest on the frightened face of the girl. “So much the sweeter when virginal, no?” His stare challenged Whisper. “Deny that you want to drink her blood. Deny that you want it so bad you can already taste it." Whisper glanced at Katherine. The haunted gaze that caught at the edge of his vision sent a chill up his spine. "Deny it!" "Whisper?” Katherine took a step backwards. Santez laughed. “Tell her what you are, gypsy." "Enough, Santez! Your quarrel is with me.” He lunged forward swinging the sword, but Santez moved quicker. By the time the six-span blade had completed its arc, Whisper found Santez between himself and Katherine. Nothing would have pleased Santez more than to have seized the girl and taken her right in front of Whisper, but the gypsy demanded all his concentration, and the girl slipped beyond his reach. He snarled, half crouching, ready to spring. “I should have made you wholly a vampire when I had the chance." "You were never strong enough, Santez. My will was stronger than yours then, and it is even stronger now. Try me." "No.” Santez's voice was a low growl; his instinct for blood was overtaking his reason. He fought it. He had to keep control. “I no longer desire your company for eternity. I shall rip your throat out and feast on your heart tonight." [Back to Table of Contents]

Available now from Eternal Press The Sword of Anubis By Brittany Kingston Morgan de Ventana has tracked his archenemy, the vampire Nicolai Kesslanski, to a small bookshop in Paris where, finally, he has the chance to avenge the murder of his father. But what was it Kesslanski so desperately sought that he'd kill an old man to get his hands on it?

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India has protected a secret all her life. Her parents were murdered for it by Nicolai Kesslanski years ago. Now, her grandfather, the only family she has left, lies dead. Should she trust the tall, dark stranger who comes to her aid? India is prepared to die to keep the secret from Kesslanski, but is she also willing to risk Morgan's life? "Please, India, tell me what you know." She raised her chin and looked into his eyes. “I know nothing." Morgan shook his head. She was lying. Frustration welled up inside him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake the information out of her. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. Most of it pulled free from the tie at the back to fall across his face. Violence would not get him what he wanted. He made a placating gesture with his hands and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was ragged with the strain of the long, hard road he'd taken to find the vampire. “Nicolai was once my father's friend. He murdered him the same way he killed your grandfather. For months I have tracked him and tried to get close enough to kill him. I almost had him in London. He must not escape again.” He stared at her, willing her to see the pain and the need in his eyes. “Tell me what you know, please. I will avenge your family as well as my own." India shook her head. “I don't know that I can trust you, Morgan. It could mean the end of my life. Or worse. Nicolai Kesslanski might get his hands on the one thing that has the power to make him invincible. That same power is the only thing capable of destroying him. If he gets his hands on it...” She shuddered. “No. I have to protect it." "Please, India.” Morgan's eyes beseeched her. India hesitated. “I am sorry. I cannot tell you what you want to know."

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