Eye Of The Tiger

Someone's killing psychics. And it's Jagger's job to find out who, and stop them.

   “Daddy?” the smell of smoke made me choke, my eyes burned and tears cleared a path down my sooty cheeks. The house was burning, heat rose in waves and blurred my vision.

 

   Stuck in my bedroom I was roasting alive, my door was haloed by a glowing orange, smoke seeped through the gaps and from the blistering heat I knew the fire was right outside my bedroom.

 

   I didn't know how it had started, one minute I was sleeping at next the heat had been suffocating enough to rouse me.

 

   “Daddy!” I screamed, wanting to go to the door, knowing that waiting on my bed was useless, I couldn't just sit there, cowering. But even as a twelve year old I knew my room was too high to climb out of. Still, it was better than the other options so I raced across the wooden floor, my bare feet burning from the heat, the living room below was ablaze, I realised, when I opened the window, watching the flames that poured out of the smashed window below.

 

   The moon was obscured by clouds darker than the night sky, but I could still see the people watching from below, our horrified neighbours could only stand and watch as my home burned.

 

   I turned back as something banged on my door. I flinched as it banged again, then buckled and a shadowy, smoking figure shrouded in a black singed sheet rushed in.

 

   “Daddy!” I yelled, relieved, wanting to run to him but the heat acted like a solid barrier, keeping me by the window and the cooler night air. My father discarded the ruined sheet, I realised he had been stooped because he was cradling Teddy in his arms, my younger brother’s eyes were wide in terror, his shock of white hair stood up on end and his bare arms were smudged black with soot.

 

   “Rora! Stay by the window!” dad yelled at me, chucking coils of rope towards me he then turned my bed upside down, knocking my blankets and teddies to the boiling floor.

 

   Then he rushed over to me and put my nine year old brother on the floor beside me. I grabbed his hand and together we watched as our father dragged my mattress to the window, I yelped and covered my little brother as, with a roar, dad smashed the window, glass rained to the floor as dad worked furiously to stuff the mattress through the window.

 

   I pressed myself against the wall, Teddy in my arms, and watched the growing flames horrified, as they licked up my door frame and threatened to come in.

 

   Dad took up the rope and tied it first around my waist and then Teddy’s, “You’re going to go out the window, okay? I’ll hold you with the rope �" just like we did at Daddy’s gym, alright?”

 

   “But-” I started to protest, there was fire down there as well! He cut me off by kissing my forehead, then hugging Teddy,

 

   “No buts! You have to do this, Rora,” he grasped our shoulders and made us look at him, there was a look in his eyes that brought tears to my own, “Remember what I told you? That sometimes you have to do things, even if you don’t like it, or it scares you. This is one of those times,”

 

   I swallowed and nodded, “Okay, daddy, I’ll go.”

 

   He smiled tightly, like he was in pain, “Good girl, now you look after your brother �" and never forget the truth, or your heritage. You’re a survivor, Aurora Jagger, don’t forget that.”

 

   “I won’t, cross my heart,” he kissed me quick, again, then pushed us towards the window, we watched as he wrapped the ropes around his own waist and held the ends in his arms.

 

   “Hop on to the sill, Rora, Teddy, and I’ll lower you,” he smiled reassuringly and we did what he said. I hesitated when I looked down, not because of the height, I’d never minded heights, it was the fire flickering in and out of the window below that scared me. I made Teddy wrap his arms around me and clung to the window sill as I slowly lowered my feet over the edge, feeling for footholds in the brick, I lowered myself until I could barely see into the room.

 

   I met Daddy’s eyes, he nodded and smiled again, sweat pouring over his handsome face, “It’s okay, Rora, let go. I’ve got you.”

 

   I let go. For a moment I was completely weightless, then the rope tightened painfully around my waist and I clung to the rope, gasping, trying not to cry because I had to be strong for Teddy. When I didn't complain, he didn't.

 

   We were lowered slowly at first, until my feet began burning and I whimpered, the fire! And the smoke had stung my eyes so much I couldn't even see the floor through the tears.

 

  We dropped through the air suddenly, falling faster than we had before. I had a moment to think we were going to burn and to shut my eyes before we fell in front of the window. Fire lapped at my skin, singed my hair and scorched my skin, but then it was gone, and when I dared look again we had fallen through the fire unscathed.

 

   I looked up, watched as the rope began to fray and glow before it caught fire. My scream had barely left my lips before the rope snapped and we fell towards the ground.

 

   We landed with a Whumpf, hitting the mattress awkwardly, my arm trapped under Teddy and his legs across my stomach. A flaming rope landed beside us, burning the mattress, hitting me across the pale inside skin of my arm. I barely registered the pain I was so stunned, I could only look up at the upside down burning house.

 

   And then there were hands, picking me up and carrying me away from the house. For a brilliant moment I thought dad had made it out, before I realised he was still inside and it was Mr Potts, the baker who was my rescuer.

 

   Old Mr Crotchet the Farmer had Teddy. We reached the crowd of spectators. I kept my eyes on the house, on my bedroom window, despite the stinging. I waited in vain hope for my father to leap out, alive and well.

 

   I saw a shadow in the window and my heart soared. And that was when the house exploded, exactly like one of daddy’s action films. Wood and brick burst out before a mushroom shaped fire swallowed them up, swallowed everything up like a hungry monster of fire.

 

   The house I had grown up in had gone, the life I had known had gone. Daddy was gone. Leaving Teddy and me alone in the big wide world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.

   If I had known that was the last time I would have spoken to my dad I would have said a lot of things, like, for starts: I’m sorry for all the times I whined about your dreadful cooking, I did like boarding school �" I just complained to make you feel guilty, and last, and most importantly: How do you kill Wendigos?

 

   Because silver just wasn’t working. And to think I’d had the silver bullets specially made for this job �" they cost a bomb.

 

   Trying to quieten my heavy pants I crouched and pressed myself against the scratchy trunk of a tree, concealed behind a bramble bush. In the Glen of Dargle you wouldn’t really expect to find Wendigos, they were found more commonly in Canada, not Ireland. I suppose the one I was hunting was probably the first one in Europe.

 

    I didn't know much about its history, it could have been an old hunter gone mad, a miner turned crazy, who knew, I didn't. It wasn’t my job to know, only to track, hunt, and kill.

 

    Except now, ironically, I was being paid by the things we hunted. Things had really changed this past decade. The world knew about the supernatural. It was quite amusing how quickly the humans took to the Supers. It was like they’d always known, then again, people were much more willing to believe. To accept.

 

   One problem was that if there was a suspicious murder the finger pointed straight at Supernaturals, and some ‘haters’ fancied themselves Superkillers, which was just stupid, a human had no chance against a hungry vampire, or a rogue Werewolf. So as soon as trouble popped up the Supers called in one of us, a Clapper, and we were secretly sent to deal with it.

 

   The Clappers was an organisation that had been set up nine years ago, after the vampires of America first revealed themselves. It was a basically an organisation of Supernatural Hunters, full of people with special gifts, and talents.

 

   Each country was appointed Clappers, in the UK though there was me, my brother Teddy who abhorred all things Supernatural, my crazy co-worker in Scotland who would more likely kill himself with his own weapon then the monster, his wife who, though lethal with a butterfly knife, hated her job.

 

   So because of the lack of Clappers I was getting seriously overworked. Good thing the pay was good, because sometimes I thought it just wasn’t worth it, especially at times like these, when I, the hunter, was being hunted.

 

   I peeked through the bushes, looking up into the thick trees, searching for any kind of movement. This would be my first wendigo �" I should have been excited, instead my hands were shaking as I re loaded my gun.

 

   It was turning out to be harder than I thought; this thing was a natural hunter. My shoulder was sore from where it had gored me in the first hour I had been tracking it. Although I was proud I had tracked it so quickly �" it mainly used the trees and I hadn't gotten lost once.

 

   The wood went silent and I paused, no bird song, I had learnt early on, meant trouble. I looked around the tree and focused immediately on the bowed branches of a gnarled old oak. Concealed in the thick summer foliage I could just make out the bony tall shape of my target.

 

   Its spindly fingers slid out through the leaves, parting them to help it look out across the woods, searching for me, and at the same time giving me a good look at it. It was perched on the branch, a horrendous creature of dirty brown sagging skin and protruding bones, its eyes red, and its gaping, drooling mouth open to reveal yellow rotten teeth.

 

   I shuddered and watched as it sniffed with its freaky crooked nose, tasted the air with its mangled tongue. It was now or never. Since my normal tricks didn't work I’d have to use another tactic.

 

   I pulled the pin out of a flash grenade and chucked it towards the tree before taking cover. There was an explosion and even through my eyelids I saw the light. I leapt out from behind the tree and watched as the startled monster stumbled clumsily and erratically to its feet, no doubt having fallen out of the tree in surprise.

 

   It clawed at its eyes with dirty ragged fingernails and I had a perfect shot. Seven bulled went into it’s chest. It was cheating, I know, to use military weapons, but what was I supposed to do?

 

   The creature roared, slapping at its chest in an attempt to stop the bullets, leaking bloody holes in its stomach showed where I had previously shot it, to no affect, and as the Wendigo stalked menacingly towards me I realised that, once again, my bullets were useless.

 

   “D****t die already!” I aimed for its head but somehow the silver bullet glanced off the thick skull and the monster lunged, becoming a blur. Suddenly the thing loomed in front of me, I barely took a step back before it knocked the gun from my hand in a numbing blow, cracking my wrist. Then we stared at each other, the thing towered over my own six foot one figure.

 

   It opened it’s mouth in a growl, its hand shot out and grabbed my throat, lifting my feet off the forest floor, I desperately tried to suck air into my lungs as it lifted me higher and higher. It roared again, its putrid breath making me choke.

 

   Someone needed to be introduced to the toothbrush. It dragged me closer to its face, sniffing at my skin, making me shudder. I reached into my utility belt and before you could say ‘Yippee Kay-yay’ I had stabbed it through the heart with the silver stake.

 

   It shrieked and I was dropped to the floor, I rolled away, grabbed my gun and leapt to my feet, ready for anything. I watched as it grabbed at the silver stake sticking out its chest, black blood seeping round the wound, burnt flesh began to smoke and the creature dropped to its skinny knees, from its mouth came the same painful shriek that hurt my ears.

 

   I looked away as the thing began to shrivel up, skin turning black, flaking like charcoal. And then it collapsed to the ground, rotting and burning, until only a scorched imprint on the grassy floor was the only proof it had ever been there.

 

   I let out a gust of air, stomped over to the dead grass and picked up my stake, curling my lip in disgust; the smell was awful.

 

   Blood dripped down my arm, my wrist was swollen, my fingers broken. I hadn't done too bad, but I wouldn’t tell my employers that; I’d try and get double for the injuries.

 

 

 

 

 

2.

   My car groaned to halt outside a nice looking old farm manor, tucked away in a small copse, with wonky windows and a crooked gate it looked like any other farm, you wouldn’t know it was the home to a pack of Werewolves.

 

   I leapt out my rickety Land Rover, dented and muddied it had been all around Europe with me, we’d fallen into a small ravine in Croatia, crashed into a bollard in Berlin and chased a Rogue Werebear all across the Yorkshire Dales.

 

   I was dreading the day I would have to replace it, which, with the way things were going, would probably be very soon. Yawning I patted the bonnet and started across the gravel to the house, rubbing my wrist when I forgot it was broken and went to push the gate.

 

   I’d heal eventually, it just meant I would be out of work for a while, I knew from experience these things could heal wrong. The door opened before I could even raise my hand to knock, revealing a short, stout woman, looking to be in her late twenties, but being a Werewolf she was much, much older.

 

   Tara O’Shea was the Alpha female of the Dargle Pack, with thick brown hair falling over solid shoulders, a strong square jaw and mean green eyes she wasn’t stunning, but she was intimidating and powerful, and that was all she needed to be.

 

   “You’re alive,” she stated with little emotion, but I couldn't help being hurt that she had doubted me.

 

   I patted myself, shocked, “My God you’re right! I am alive, fancy that,” she lifted her lips in the starts of a snarl but a voice called through from the living room,

 

   “Let her in, Tara!” I smiled beautifully at the woman, she just stepped to the side and let me brush by, I was taller than her by a few inches and she hated it, her growl followed me as I went into the living room. With cream walls, old wooden beams and a large black stove it was a sweet little living room, the large dark green sofa seemed too big for the room, but it was crammed with around five Werewolves, whilst others lined the walls. In all there were fifteen of them, my quick eyes scanned over each of them, seven females, and eight males, all of them able to fight.

 

   They watched me curiously and I put a hand on my hip, smiling at the Alpha, Peadar, who leant casually on the wall by the stove, “Let me guess, you were expecting me to turn up in a body bag?”

 

   “Not at all, I had the highest faith in you,” Peadar was a tall lanky man, with a shock of red hair framing a handsome face, he had a grin to make women swoon and sparkling green eyes, I liked him, but I hated the wily wolf inside of him. Although, I did love his accent, an Irish red head, ‘squee’ I think the fan girls would say.

 

   “Liar,” I shot back, not really caring, almost all my employers took one look at me and said ‘You’re going to die’. It wasn’t that I looked weak, frail, pathetic, etcetera, it was just that I looked too odd to be taken seriously.

 

   At eighteen I was tall, and bulky with thick compact muscle from years of kick boxing and swimming, my white blonde hair was cut short and spiky, an inch on one side before growing longer and untamed on the other, falling over my freaky amber eyes.

 

   I think it was the cyan dye that streaked my hair that really tipped off my whacky look, or maybe it was my dungarees, torn at the knees, one of the braces frayed and broken whilst badges lined the other one, ‘Do not Kick Me’, ‘I love Dorks’ and so on stood out in bold letters. My black and red striped tee shirt always worried people, I looked like a female funkier (and taller) version of Calvin, which I didn't mind at all �" he was my idol.

 

   “Was it difficult? I smell blood,” he said and I snorted,

 

   “You don’t say that to all the girls you meet, do you?” the old man actually blushed and I waved it off, my index and middle finger strapped together with fluorescent green tape, “I got clawed s’all, I’ll stop at a hospital or something on my way back to the ferry.”

 

   “You’re going home already?” he sounded surprised, like he expected me to stick around and check out all the tourist sights.

 

   “Soon as I get my money,” I smiled charmingly at him and he shook his head, nodded to one of the wolves who chucked me the brown envelope on the lamp table. I caught it, didn't bother counting and stuck it in my big pocket,

 

   “You don’t want to count it?” Peadar asked with a raised eyebrow,

 

   “Why? Should I? Because you know not to rip off a Clapper, right? We’re mean,” I gnashed my teeth at him and he replied in all seriousness,

 

   “I know,” that surprised me, I’d been joking.

 

   “Well, I’ll be off then, got to see a man about a dog,” I gave them a two finger salute and turned to the door, I could not wait to leave, something about being in a room of Werewolves was just, really, intimidating, “Nice doing business with you.”

 

    I smiled at Tara on my way out, bowing with a flourish, the door slammed behind me and I chuckled. Supernaturals would always hate Clappers, it was a gift.

 

   Whistling the Dad’s Army theme tune I skipped back to my car, this time vaulting the fence and throwing my keys up and down. I counted to ten as I put the keys in the lock.

 

   Three, two, one: the house door opened and Peadar trotted out, “Wait, Wait a minute, girlie,”

 

   “Girlie?” I repeated incredulously, turning to see the man vault the fence like I had, “Who calls a girl ‘girlie’ nowadays? Sweetie or love or even duckie I can understand �" even like �" but Girlie?”

 

   “Sorry, just, you need to be careful,” he came to a stop beside me, saw my confused look and went on, hands stuffed in his pocket and looking too serious for comfort, “I knew your father, Aurora.”

 

   I stiffened, in my mind flashing back to the night of the fire that took my father away from me. “Good for you, want a cookie?”

 

   “Aurora, I was sorry when he died, but you… I’ve heard things. That fire was not an accident,” My fingers unintentionally travelled to the thick bump of a scar on the inside of my firearm, where the rope had burnt me all those years ago. “Somebody wanted your father dead, I think they might want you dead too.”

 

    That should have scared me, but I just shrugged it off, “Someone always wants me dead �" it comes with the job, Peadar.”

 

   “You don’t understand, this is serious, Aurora,” I gave him a look and he sighed, exasperated, “Don’t say I didn't warn you, girl.”

 

   “Maybe I’ll lay low for a while, will that put your mind at rest?” he said nothing, pursing his lips and looking troubled, I sighed, irritated, “Fine, fine, I’ll change my name, get plastic surgery and wear pink �" they’ll never find me. Ooh, I can be Princess Tallulah Dominique Butterfly!”

 

   “Aurora…”

 

   “Yeah, you’re right, the Princess is a little silly; I’ll stick with Tallulah Dominique Butterfly… the Third!” I opened the door and started to get in, I paused and looked back at the wolf, “Is there anyone specific I should be watching out for?”

 

   He held his hands out in a silent apology, “I only got a name. Centurion.”

 

   “Centurion,” the name rolled off my tongue and I pursed my lips, that sounded like some rejected Villain’s name from Justice League, “I’ll keep an eye out for him �" think he’ll be wearing a galea?”

 

    “Aurora!”

 

   “Alright, okay, I’m sorry, I’m taking it seriously, stay away from the Centurion, got it,” I slammed the door shut and looked out the window, “you hear anything else, call me �" please. That way I can at least be prepared.”

 

   “You got it,” he patted the bonnet as the car roared into life and I drove away, watching him in the mirror until I turned a corner and both the house and the werewolf disappeared.

 

   Funny how things work out, you get called out to deal with a Wendigo and it turns out the guy who called you also knew your father. I bet if Peadar hadn't known him he would not have warned me.

 

   I believe in Fate, that things happened for a reason. I believed that I had taken the job, and not someone else, because it gave me a chance to get prepared.

 

   Centurion. I hated the b*****d already.

 

 

 

 

3.

   “God d****t Rory! Can you not go a day without breaking something? Those mugs are expensive,” my boss yelled at my back as I looked down at the shattered blue mug. I turned slowly and gave Bobby my best puppy dog eyes,

 

   “I’m sorry,” it was hard to pull off the look when you looked like me but the old guy sighed and pinched the bridge of his eyes,

 

    “Why don’t you go clear the tables? Wipe them down as well,” Bobby was in his late fifties and had never wanted to own a coffee shop, but he had never planned on falling in love with Pippa Jones, the eccentric Invisible Coffee Shop owner. They’d married and he’d tried not to get involved too much with running the place, only when Pippa had to go to Manchester for a funeral was he left in charge �" the first time in fifteen years.

 

   “Sure thing cap’n,” I slung a tea towel over my shoulder, grabbed a wet cloth and went out the kitchen into the café. It wasn’t a huge place, but it wasn’t tiny either, there was enough space for six small tables, two large window seats and a reasonably sized counter. It was the kind of place where you only needed three people to serve, collect and clean.

 

   I had been collecting, now, like most days, I had been bumped to cleaner. I was fine with that. I didn't get on that well with my co-workers, they thought I was a freak, and I thought they were too normal.

 

   Funny how things work out. I wasn’t too bothered, they could hate me, I wasn’t sticking around. This was my third waitressing job in a month, I was practically living in Premier Inns, and I hadn't seen my uncle for almost two, nor my brother. Not that he wanted to see me.

 

   I felt a pang of regret, knowing that my brother and I would never have a good relationship, or be on proper speaking terms. He was fifteen going on fifty, and resented being locked away in boarding school. But he had to have an education, if he didn't want to be a Clapper he could at least do something else with his life.

 

   Today had been a quiet day and too hot to sit inside, we had two fans on and the door was open �" it didn't help at all, and as six o’clock loomed I just wanted to go home. I’d only seen thirty customers, and almost all of them had taken their coffees to go.

 

   Despite the lack of activity I wiped the tables, out of the corner of my eye watching the news on the wall TV. Another attack. A registered Supernatural had been locked in her home as it burnt to the ground.

 

   I hesitated, there hadn't been attacks for a while, I remembered in the beginning there were a few, but for the past seven years things had been peaceful. The person next to you could be a Werewolf and you wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

 

   But recently there had been more attacks, murders, all Supernaturals �" no Weres or vampires, yet, but others, like Sensitives �" potential Clappers. There was no chance of it being Elves or Fairies; they had never revealed themselves to the public. But it was still bad. Apparently America wasn’t any better.

 

   All fires. Just like the one that claimed my father six years ago. Whoever it was they had resurfaced, this Centurion guy no doubt.

 

   A shadow fell across the room, stretched out in the late afternoon sun that poured through the windows. I noticed that the two girls at the counter, Ellie and Christie had fallen silent, when I glanced at them they were staring open mouthed at the figure behind me.

 

   I looked. Shrugged, looked back at the TV then did a double take. The guy was… almost indescribable. He was tall, not lanky nor ridiculously bulky, but somewhere in between, making him broad and intimidating. His hair was the colour of fire, and so long he kept it in a loose ponytail that on anyone else might have looked ridiculous, his eyes were a sharp green and freckles lightly dusted his sharp cheek bones.

 

   The stranger wore dark blue jeans and a black top, rolled up sleeves showing that his forearms were lined with shiny pale scars, some small, some large. The top was loose around his neck, showing the top of his chest, and another smattering of scars, one so large it seemed the whole left side of his neck was a shiny scar.

 

   He was handsome, and his face weather-beaten, with a grim look turning his lips down at the corners. What really caught my eye was the scar that ran like a painted white line from the bridge of his slightly wonky nose, under his right eye and down the side of his face, tapering off under his jaw. It didn't exactly leave him disfigured but it was noticeable.

 

   He realised I was watching him and met my eyes, the only thing he had to do for me to see the ‘Truth’. I didn't exactly see anything, it’s more like just knowing something, like a light pings on in your head and suddenly the information is there. He was a Weretiger, old I guessed.

 

   He studied me as closely and quickly as I had him before he sat down at the corner table, breaking eye contact. I felt a pang of loss, like some sort of connection had broken, before I shrugged it off and went back to business. He wasn’t the first Were customer we’d had, nor the most handsome, however he was the most impressive.

 

   I went up to the counter where the two girls, Ellie was the dense blonde, Christie was Japanese and a little sharper, but both were aspiring models, only here to get money. I was there to hide.

 

   “Aren’t you going to serve him?” I asked, both girls look unsure, looked at each other then at me, I sighed and took a notepad and pen, “You two are useless, you do know most of the male models of the fashion industry nowadays are Weres.”

 

   “Yeah but they’re hot,” Ellie retorted and I wanted to throttle her, could you be any more vainglorious?

 

   “And that guy is, like, creepy, in a serial killer way,” I frowned at Christie like she was the dumbest person on the planet. She lifted her chin defiantly, “What? Its true, he’s creepy.”

 

   “He’s also not deaf,” I hissed, turning away from the haughtily and walking over to the man. Not hot, what were they thinking? The guy was smokin’. I suppose I was into that tortured bad guy look. Oh well, each to their own, I suppose, if they wanted to be conceited self centred pricks that was their choice.

 

   The guy had been staring at his hands whilst we were talking but now as I stood at his table he looked up, a small wry smile lifting the corner of his lips, “You’re brave.”

 

   I snorted unattractively, trying not to be too distracted by his chocolate smooth voice, “No, I’m just not stuck up like those two. What can I get you?”

 

   “I’m not here for a drink,” my defences shot up and I eyed him, suddenly wary.

 

   “You do know you’re in a coffee shop?” I checked, and he nodded, a slight tilt of the head.

 

   “I’m not here for coffee,” he repeated, I wanted to edge away, knowing that this couldn't be good.

 

   “Oh? Then what are you here for? I’m afraid we don’t do that much else,” I wondered if I could use a pencil as a weapon? Damn laws, I’d had to leave all my weapons back in my car �" a car park twenty minutes away.

 

   “I’m here to warn you,” the stranger waited for some sort of reaction, lounging back in his chair, watching any movement that might betray my unease. “You are in danger, Aurora Jagger.”

 

   “Do you know Peadar O’Shea?” I asked curiously and he looked a little bemused, shook his head, “Oh, so this is just another ominous ‘Someone wants to kill you’ message. Fantastic.”

 

   “I would have thought that if you had been warned before you would have tried to stay hidden a little more effectively,” I gave him an indignant look and pointed round the shop,

 

   “What do you think I have been doing? You think I’m here for the measly wages?” I was very aware that Ellie and Christie were trying to listen into our conversation and I shifted so I blocked their view of him. “Maybe if someone told me what sort of danger I was in I’d be able to hide a little more effectively.”

 

   “All I’ve heard is that someone wants you dead,” he shrugged one shoulder and I sighed, irritated.

 

    How could they know that but not the names? This was getting to be annoying, I’d been working my butt off as a human and it turns out it’s not even helping in the smallest.

 

   “Comes with the job, I suppose,” I shrugged, putting my pencil behind my ear, “Is that all?”

 

   “I’ve come to offer you a job,” I frowned at this, surely if I did a job I wouldn’t be laying low, this guy just didn't make sense.

 

   “I’m afraid if you’re looking for a Clapper you’ll have to go somewhere else �" I’m on holiday,” sort of. “Sorry you came all this way for nothing, mr…?”

 

   “Mason, just Mason,” he didn't look too happy, watching me with a frown. Too bad, what did he expect? Me to run around screaming like a little girl, ‘OHMIGOD SOMEONE WANTS TO KILL ME!’? Not going to happen.

 

   “Well just Mason, my shift just finished and I’m going to go have a bath and gorge on ice cream and cookies, I suggest you go back to doing whatever the hell it is you do, terrorising children or something.”

 

   I walked away and chucked my notepad and pencil on the counter, said a terse bye to the girls and stormed out the door.

 

   I made it about ten paces before I gave up the grumpy act, no matter what people did or said I couldn't get angry, the most I’d been close to losing my temper was when England lost the Rugby League. Now that was annoying.

 

   Rubbing the back of my neck I walked towards the car park, tilting my face up to the sun. I had the suspicious inkling that I was being followed. No doubt Mason. It didn't bother me as much as it should have.

 

   My phone rang in my pocket and I flipped it out, “Hello?”

 

   “Rory! My girl, how’s it hanging?” I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face. Uncle Rodney, the loony of the family, also one of my only contacts. He’d been mine and Teddy’s guardian for six years �" before that we’d never known him, I knew why dad never let Rod visit (he was crazy) but I had come to like the old man.

 

   “Everything’s going great, ta? And yourself?” I stopped at a shop, pretending to be interested in one of the books for sale whilst looking subtly back the way I came, I saw a flash of red as Mason ducked into a shop door. I grinned again.

 

   “Oh you know, Mel is getting antsy because I’m insufferable  - it’s not my fault, I just want to be out a-huntin’! But this darn leg is keeping me bed ridden,” Rod had broken his leg just last week �" falling down some stairs, of all the things. Werewolves he could fight, vampires he could fight, but when it came to a flight of stairs… poor guy.

 

   “And you’d better stay in bed and listen to Aunt Mel �" you don’t want your leg to get worse, do you?”

 

   “No, s’pose not,” he sighed and I walked towards the emptying car park, my beaten old Land Rover parked on the edge stood out like a sore thumb, surrounded by fancy BMWs and Audis.

 

   “You didn't ring to complain did you?” I reached into my pocket to pull the keys out, hesitated where I stood and glanced around. My spidey senses were tingling; something wasn’t right.

 

   “No, just thought I’d tell you I been lookin’ into your problem, I ain’t found that much on this Centurion guy �" but the fires you been seeing on the news? They’re all connected to him. Witnesses been seeing the same person, tall, blonde, purple eyes. Can’t say I know what he’s up to, but I do know he ain’t human. Son of a b***h been killin’ his own people,” I absorbed the new information and thanked my uncle, wondering out loud where I could find more info on this guy without being obvious, “Dunno love, but you gotta be careful, this guy is serious, he ain’t like the others. He’s not a rogue or nuthin’, he’s on a mission.”

 

   “Yay,” I cheered under my breath, yanking my boot door open and pulling the coarse rug off the floor to reveal my silver stakes and knives. I slid a heavy stake into the pocket of my loose jeans, strapped a knife to my forearm and slipped my black and red sleeve over the top to hide it. “How’s Teddy?”

 

   “Uh? Oh, Teddy, he’s uh, he’s doing great,” Rod said with false cheer and I straightened up, slamming the boot shut, frowning,

 

   “Who’d he beat up this time?” Teddy may not have liked his heritage but he could be very violent.

 

   “Oh, just the headmaster’s son �" in Ted’s own words the guys a ‘prick with sludge for brains’, does that mean he’s a bully? Because that what it sounds like, you kids use such different words now’days.”

 

   “Yes, that’s exactly what it means… was he expelled?” I didn't really want to know, but last time the Headmaster had said ‘one more chance then he’s out’.

 

   “’Fraid so, kids coming home today,” I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly exhausted.

 

   “Right. Damn it. I gotta go, it’s about to rain,” Rod knew exactly what I meant, any other guardian would have worried that I was about to be ambushed by some dangerous Supernaturals, but he just chuckled.

 

   “Go get ‘em, tiger,” I hung up, chucked the phone onto my seat before turning to face my attackers.

 

   There were three of them, two had already transformed, turning into some great big tigers, their fur almost glowing in the orange afternoon light, muscles rippled and jaws opened to reveal lethal fangs. They scratched their claws on the tarmac of the car park and I kept a wary eye on them, as well as the one human male.

 

   He was not tall, only stocky, with army cropped blonde hair and a slight sneer marring his would be handsome face. Calculating eyes watched me, he kept his thumbs casually in his jean belt loops, his black shirt several sizes too small to show off the muscles of his chest.

 

   “I thought Clapper’s would be more impressive looking,” he drawled, tilting his head and studying me, slowly enough to make me uncomfortable. “After all, y’are killers. All I see is a little girl �" where’re all the grown ups?”

 

   Patronising b*****d, I grinned, “Attack me and you’ll see I’m just how good a killer I am.”

 

   One of the tigers leapt but I’d been expecting it, that and my own quick reactions, topped with my hawkish eyes and deadly aim allowed me to leap forward, duck under a sweeping paw and slice his stomach with my silver knife. I calculated it just right, getting out of the way just as the tiger’s back paws kicked out.

 

   The massive head clanged into the side of my car, making it shudder and leaving a dent as well as a stunned puddy tat. He wouldn’t die, I hadn't gone deep enough with the silver. I spun round just as the second one charged forward.

  

   I pushed off my feet and sailed over him, landing in a crouch on the floor behind the cat. I spun, pulled out the stake and threw it, watching as it impaled through the tiger’s thick front leg. It roared and crumpled to the floor awkwardly, I’d caught it in the process of turning round and its chin scraped on the ground as its legs were left behind.

 

   It would have been comical if there hadn't have been another tiger for me to deal with. I threw my knife at the man, and was mightily surprised when he just stepped casually to the side, letting the knife thud into a tree behind him. He grinned, I was weapon less, and my merciful nature meant there were still three lions for me to deal with.

 

   “Impressive, I have to say I used to hear stories about Clappers and you haven’t disappointed, unfortunately the show is now over,” he reached into his own pocket and pulled out a black gun, a silence on the muzzle, I hesitated, no way I could outrun a bullet �" I was good but not that good.

 

   I leapt to the side, all for diving behind a car and running, but I heard a soft ‘pfft’ and then a stinging pain my already sore shoulder. I rolled into the cover of a posh black BMW and pulled a dart out my shoulder. Already the effects of the drug were kicking in, my limbs felt like lead and my vision swam, my head spinning.

 

   Somewhere, over the roaring of blood pounding through my head, I could hear growls and roars, the ferocious sounds of a fight. And then silence. By that time I was already slipping towards the floor. I lay my head down on the hard floor, blinking sluggishly as blurry feet appeared before me.

 

   Arms scooped me up and the cars turned upside down as my head swung back, I wasn’t in control of my body, and it scared me. Something juggled me, swinging my head back sharply so I rested against a solid shoulder.

 

   Red swam before my eyes, the colour of fire, and I succumbed to the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

4.

   “Wait for it! This is the best part!” a rich voice yelled over the blaring of music, my head complained painfully at the volume of it, each note pounding a nail into my head, “BORN TO BE WI-ILD!!”

 

   Whoever was singing �" out of tune I might add �" was going to die. I felt like I’d had one too many drinks and I was paying for it was a killer headache, my eyes stung, my throat was sore and I probably looked as bad as I felt.

 

   “Rise and shine sleepy head! The sun is shining, the birds are singing and your snoring is giving me a wicked headache!”

 

   It took a moment for the fog to lift and I remembered what had happened. The ambush, the tranquiliser, then someone picking me up. I processed what he’d said as I slowly sat up, noting that I was sat in the back seat of a posh Discovery,

 

   “Me? You’re the one making an atrocity out of a classic,” I rubbed my eyes and looked at the red headed man sat in the front seat, grinning back at me. I blinked, realising that the man I had thought was Mason, was not Mason at all.

 

   He looked like Mason, with the same flaming red hair, strong sharp features and vibrant eyes. Except he had no scars, and had changed his clothes into some brown shirt with a label printed on the front ‘To: Ladies, From: God’, and some baggy jeans. His bare arms were lined with fewer scars, although they were definitely still there, telling me that this guy either got into less fights that Mason did, or he was better at staying unhurt.

 

   His red hair was shorter than Mason’s, too, at the front and slightly quaffed, with a just rolled out of bed look, “Hello, pretty lady,”

 

   I raised an eyebrow, “You’re not Mason.” But he was a Weretiger, and judging from the freakish similarities he was Mason’s brother, or twin.

 

   “Thank god for that! I think I’d die of boredom �" you know what he gets up to nowadays?” he didn't give me a chance to respond, to be honest I didn't exactly know how to respond, I’d been kidnapped by two Weretigers, one as serious as death, the other a little kid on a sugar rush, “Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Guy became World’s Biggest Bore the moment he got hitched.”

 

   “Fascinating. I can tell you’re hurt that your brother has been spending more time with his wife, now where are we?” I looked at the window but could see nothing but green fields, although there was a strip of tarmac, and something that looked suspiciously like a plane was looming closer.

 

   “Robin Hood Airport, we’re going on a little trip to America �" and who said anything about a wife?” he looked at me like I was crazy and I tried not to be too shocked at the revelation that Mason was gay. Then the stranger laughed, winked, “Gotcha.”

 

   “Arse,” I muttered, trying for the door handle, it was locked.

 

   “One of my many names, however I prefer Mal, or Mal for short,” by now I could hear the plane’s engines growing louder as it neared. I was starting to get a little uneasy, and unfortunately for ‘Mal’ when I got uneasy I got physical.

 

   I reached forward and slammed the car seat handle down, he made a choked noise as his seat fell back, putting him into a horizontal position, “Hello there-” he started, looking up at me but at that point I punched him across the jaw and pushed off the back seat.

 

   In an instant I sat with my knees on either side of him and, rubbing his jaw, he looked me up and down, raised a cocky eyebrow, “Now I can get used to-”

 

   I pushed my forearm against his throat, cutting him off. “What do you want with me? Why America?”

 

   “Now don’t worry, Jagger-”

 

   “I’m not worrying; if I was worrying I would have killed you by now, stolen the car and driven away �" at some point ditching your body by the side of the road for crows to peck. I’m just curious. Now answer my questions before I snap your neck,” I gave him my sweetest smile as he sucked in air, making faces like a fish out of water. I let up on the squeezing, he rubbed at his neck.

 

   “My employer is in America,” Mal said, surprised, like he was shocked I didn't know that. “He sent Mason and me to fetch you �" the idiots who attacked you in the car park were sent to kill you before we got you. Mason didn't tell you? Man he sucks. I would have explained it to you, but then you got shot, so I thought ‘what the hell’ lets take her anyway. I did my job, I’m getting paid soon as you get on the plane.”

 

   I processed the information, wondering who on earth would hire me, why an American would need me. If he needed a Clapper then fine, but why not just hire one from his own state.

 

   And why would he send two tigers for me, it didn't seem like coincidence that they were tigers just like my three attackers.

 

   “Tigers don’t have packs like wolves, or lions, or even Hyenas, Tigers and Bears, we’re the best to employ because we answer only to ourselves �" and we generally only want money, so we snap up the jobs like an ogre eats eyeballs,” was Mal’s longwinded answer when I asked. I regretted it; if this was how I was to others it was a wonder I hadn't been murdered out of pure frustration.

 

   “You know, Jagger, comfortable as this is I prefer being the one on top,” before you could say Horny B*****d he had grabbed both my thighs, bucked and flipped me over, I hit the seat with an oof, my head thudding against the head rest. “Much better,” he smugly stated, leaning over me, both hands on the back seats behind my head, just keeping his body off mine, though I was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, the pulse beating in the vein in his neck.

 

   Unfortunately his lower half was a lot closer than I liked under the circumstances, our legs tangled together, his stomach and down pressing against me, the lack of space meant I could feel everything, and I mean everything.

 

   “Personal bubble �" popped, get off me, please,” I asked as calmly as I could, Mal grinned cockily,

 

   “You British girls are so demanding,” but despite his complaint he reached down and a second later the chair rolled back, giving him space to put his feet down in the foot well and get off me. “Now, can we please be civil and have a proper conversation like adults? As much as I like you I don’t think I can take another hit like that.”

 

   “Hmm… civil,” I pursed my lips, thinking about it, then shook my head mournfully, “That word and me just don’t go together �" but! Don’t worry, I promise not to hit you.”

 

   I drove my knee between his legs, he actually went cross eyed, his hands immediately going to his crotch, making him fall heavily on top of me. I was quick to pop the lock, open the door and push him out.

 

   Unfortunately he had the sense to grab my arm and I yelped as I was dragged out after the man. I landed a lot more gracefully than he did �" on my feet, whilst he thumped to the dry grass, still holding his groin. I looked down at him and rolled my eyes as, red faced, he ground out, “I thought you said no more hits?”

 

   “And I kept my word; I didn't hit you, I kicked you,” he growled and I shrugged, he’d live; he was lucky I liked him, sort of, minor the cockiness. What can I say? I had a weakness for red heads.

 

   “Aurora?” I tensed and turned to look at Mason, he looked exactly like he had at the café, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked from his fallen, complaining brother, to me. “What’d she do?”

 

   “Kicked me in the balls! She effing kicked me in the effing balls. Who does that? It’s such a cheap shot!” he struggled to his knees, glaring at me, “You’d think Clappers would be more inventive.”

 

   “Why bother when the oldest trick in the book works like a charm?” I shot back, annoyed that my path to the car was blocked by both tigers, the plane was a private jet, and there was nothing around for miles, the Air control tower a good long distance run away.

 

   “Are you feeling better, Aurora?” Mason asked politely, obviously the brother with the brains, and the manners.

 

   “No. I want to know who the hell you guys work for, and I want to know why or one of you will get seriously hurt,” I may not have had any weapons but I was a Clapper, and Clappers weren’t without their own tricks.

 

   A majority of Clappers were Sensitives, people that could pass as humans without suspicion. A Sensitive wasn’t born a Sensitive, unless one of your parents was extremely strong, or a near death experience did the trick �" unfortunately it was the most common.

 

   A sensitive had a lot of different talents, some could see ghosts, some could read minds �" to an extent, it usually meant touching the person �" some could sense emotions, from both people and emotions left in a place or on an object. Some had premonitions and others were like me �" seeing and knowing. The Truth just came to them.

 

   There were more dangerous ones, like being able to hypnotise people, move things with their minds, pyrokenesis, Psychokinesis and more.

 

   ESP I think the average person would call them, but we called them Dark Gifts, because, well, we were given the gifts by touching death �" there’s nothing good about them.

 

   And luckily for me I’d gotten a double dose of the creepy, my father had been a powerful Sensitive, ergo so was I. And, once upon a time, I’d also had an NDE.

 

   Not something I liked to dwell on, and not something that was in my file �" oh yeah, every Clapper had a file, people liked to know what weapon they were using. On mine it simply said I was a Truth Searcher, a Tracker (I could find things, sometimes people so long as I had an object that had a strong connection with them, like underwear) and it also mentioned something about me being awesome. True story.

 

   A good friend of mine had hacked into the files and deleted everything else, so my deepest and darkest secrets were kept secret.

 

   “I’m already hurt,” Mal grumbled like a sullen child, using the car door to get to his feet.

 

   “Shut up, I’m talking to the adult,” I looked at Mason who looked at his brother who sputtered and worked his mouth, trying to form words,

 

   Then in a very serious and matter of fact tone he turned to his scarred brother and said, “I hate her. I do. She’s not nice.”

 

   “I don’t care, Mal. We were sent to retrieve you by a man in California, you may have heard of him �" Asher Legrae,” I couldn't help being shocked. The head honcho, asking for moi? What to do? I’d always wanted to meet the vampire who had shaken the world and forced almost every vampire around the world to come out to the humans, changing the lives of billions.

 

   Yessir, I’d sure like to meet him, hit him, and maybe leave him out in the sun.

 

   But not today. “Asher, really? Now what does he want with itty bitty me? Doesn’t he have his own Clappers at his disposal, why drag me across the ocean?”

 

   I cocked my hip and watched them closely, studying their reactions. The two brothers glanced at each other shiftily and I knew there was more to this than Asher wanting to meet me for my sparkling personality.

 

   “So, what’s the story?” they looked confused, I waved my hand, “Why’s he want me?”

 

   “We don’t know, we were just the delivery boys,” Mal shrugged, I had to hand it to them, they were good liars, but I was a Truth Seeker, I knew they were lying.

 

   “Well I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, but I’ve got things I have to do, if Asher wants to talk to me I suggest he calls next time instead of sending… well, you.”

 

   Mason was expressionless, whilst Mal looked offended, “That’s not nice, see bro, she’s mean, you’re mean,” he stated looking back at me and I gave him a bemused look,

 

   “I think we’ve established that, Mal, now stop whining,”

 

   “We can’t go back without you,” Mason interrupted before his brother could complain again.

 

   “Now that’s a pickle,” I scratched my head, “but until you somehow persuade me to get onto that thing-” I pointed at the plane, “and go all the way to America, you’re going to be hanging around for a long time. Oh, may I suggest you go visit Buckingham Palace �" they sell some great souvenirs. You can buy a little teddy bear.”

 

   “You’re coming with us,” Mal said in his most threatening voice, I couldn't help laughing,

 

   “Hmm, no, sorry, not happening,” I leapt off my feet, lunging towards the car, both Mal and Mason had predicted I would and in eerily synchronised movements they moved to intercept me.

 

   Mason crossed in front of me and Mal, as I was distracted with dodging him Mal leapt over his brother’s shoulders, and tackled into me. The breath was knocked out of my breath as his body collided with mine, lifting me off my feet.

 

   But we didn't go flying to the floor, instead he somehow got his feet under him, spun me round and chucked me. Like children throwing a large bean bag I was tossed across the grass, and then landed in Mason’s arms, my back to his chest. Any other day I might have liked two guys grabbing me, except today was just a bad day.

 

   Thank god I was tall or I wouldn’t have been able to put my feet to the ground and bend, flipping the Were over my shoulder. I slipped to the side as Mal went by, caught his shoulders from behind and yanked him to the floor.

 

   I ran, not risking showing off and beating the crap out of them any longer, I doubted I’d be able to beat both of them in my condition, so I raced for the car, dived in and fumbled for the keys in the steering wheel, realising that the music was still pounding, now playing ‘Heat of the Moment’. I revved the engine, put my foot to the pedal and as the back tires kicked up dirt Mal and Mason recovered and raced for the car.

 

   They just didn't give up. You had to admire them for that, although it was a huge pain in the arse, I didn't want two persistent tigers chasing me around the country.

 

   Mal was the only one to hold onto the open door as I sped away in a roar. Like I said, persistent.

 

    “Get out the car!” He yelled, grabbing at my arm as I tried to control the car, skidding on the tarmac, the back swung round, dangerously close of spinning out of control.

 

   “Get off of the car!” I yelled back, hitting at his hand every time he reached for me. He grabbed onto the frame of the door as I sped past the airplane and began to hoist himself inside, “You idiot get off!”

 

   The car was picking up speed, if he fell off he’d be seriously injured, even for a Were. “Pull over!” he managed to get a foot into the foot well, his head and shoulders blocking my view as I tried to keep the car going in a straight line.

 

   “Get off!” I slapped at his back, feeling like I was in some ridiculous scene of Mr and Mrs Smith. He punched my leg, numbing it, and I elbowed him between the shoulder blades, hard, making him slip back, one put scraped the tarmac.

 

    Just a little more and he’d be off! His furious face suddenly loomed in front of mine as he yelled in a deafening voice, “STOP THIS CAR THIS INSTANT YOU CRAZY WOMAN DRIVER!”

 

   “WHO YOU CALLING CRAZY?” I shrieked back, stomping my foot on the break, the car was flung forward, so was Mal, making him lose his grip. I punched his chest, making him fall out of the screeching car. He cracked against the tarmac, rolling, and I sped off, slamming the door shut.

 

    I watched in my mirror as Mason sprinted up to his brother and helped him to his feet, then they stood side by side, watching me. Mason was still, but Mal was jumping around, punching out at the air and swearing continuously.

 

   I grinned and waved my hand out the window, flipped them off and turned the music up louder, feeling pretty darn smug.

 

    Asher could stick his job where the sun shined, I may have worked for his organisation but I didn't work for him. Personally I hated the guy, I only did my job because I was good at it, and felt like I was doing something.

 

   Sure, killing monsters wasn’t the best job in the first place, and not an entirely healthy profession, but if it ultimately kept people safe then I would kill as many monsters as I could �" hey, put me in a room with Asher and I’d probably kill him too.

 

   One day, maybe, one day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

5.

  Have you ever had one of those days where you get up and everything goes so well you think it’s going to be an awesome day? I thought I was having one of those days; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, my favourite song was playing on the radio and, for once, the travel lodge provided a warm breakfast.

 

   I should have known it wouldn’t last. Everything went downhill the moment I knocked on Nina Farr’s door.

 

   “Who is it?” she called through the door, voice thick with wariness.

 

   “It’s me, open up, Nina!” I called back, I’d learnt that people were more likely to open the door if you pretended you knew them. I didn't know Nina personally, I’d heard a lot about her, that she was the best gossiper of all the Supers in all of Edinburgh, I’d only heard about her through a contact and had been searching for her for two days.

 

   It had been a week since I’d left the Chuckle brothers swearing and cursing, and I’d intended to go straight to Roy, but had been waylaid in Edinburgh by the news of a Clapper being murdered �" in Paris.

 

   I was hoping Nina might tell me something about the Centurion. She opened the door, curious, and I smiled beautifully. The woman in front of me was exactly what I’d imagined, long black hair, pale skin and sharp stunning features, she wore a tight red vest and some leather trousers, the blood red lipstick and black kohl eyes completely finished her s**t look.

 

   Her eyes widened, “Clapper!”

 

   It had taken me a few years to get used to that name; I had no idea why they’d choose something that sounded a little like ‘Slapper’. It still took a lot of effort not to laugh every time someone said it, and the fact that she look like a slapper made it even harder, somehow I kept the giggles at bay.

 

   “Hello, Nina �" you and I need to-” she slammed the door in my face, “-talk.”

 

   I gave her the count of three to open the door before I kicked it down; she was, at that point, already out of her window in her small bedsit and racing across the roof of the baker’s below.

 

   “Oh come on!” I yelled, clambering out after her, “I only wanted to talk! Why’d you have to make this difficult?”

 

    I was much more agile running across the unstable tiles, some loose, others slippery, she was occasionally using her hands to help her, and then she leapt onto the next building. Took a tumble and slid before she caught herself and carried on, using her arms to balance her. People in the streets below pointed up, watching as I chased Nina.

 

   I’d been trained for six gruelling years, I’d run across more unstable paths than a row of wonky houses. Not bragging or anything but I was in much better physical condition than the other woman, I was agiler, faster, and gaining on her.

 

   I propelled myself across the gap, landing literally right on her heels, as sure of my footing as a cat is. She screamed and put on a spurt of speed,

 

   “Slow down I just wanna talk!” my foot went through a loose tile and caught myself with my hands, cutting my fingers on a jagged tile. She used my stumble to put more distance between us, but then I yanked myself up and ran, noting that she had paused on the edge of the building, she’d have to jump almost five yards and up to get onto the next building.

 

   I didn't care about the dangers of what I did next; all I cared about was grabbing her and throttling her.

 

   So I tackled her, driving my shoulder into her back and grabbing her waist I completely caught her off guard. My weight and her initial instability caused her to topple right off the edge, and we fell towards our deaths.

 

   Not really. It wasn’t the biggest fall, for us hardy supernaturals, from the first floor to the cobbled street below, but it still hurt like the dickens. We lay there, stunned, until she started groaning, feebly using her hands to get to her feet.

 

   I ignored the pain and struck forward, my fist cracked across her jaw and she collapsed again. Wheezing with pain, blinking rapidly so I could figure out which Nina was the real one, I got to my feet,

 

   “If you know what’s good for you you’ll stay down,” my voice sounded pathetic, not at all mean and threatening like I’d hoped for. It didn't work, she started to get up again, crawling away, reaching for a metal pipe that lay discarded by some of the big dustbins, now why couldn't we have landed on those? It would have been much softer �" I was going to be black and blue later, already my knee and my shoulder were playing up.

 

   I rolled my eyes, reached into my pocket and pulled out my gun. She couldn't see it but she definitely heard the click of the safety.

 

   She turned slowly, blood dripping from her mouth, her eyes filled with hate and a little bit of fear, “You b***h.”

 

   “Oh, now I’ve got your attention?” I smiled my infuriating smile, her hands closed into tight fists, “You know who I am?”

 

   “Jagger. You’ve been asking around about me, sticking your f*****g nose into places you ain’t wanted. Barry won’t be out of hospital for a long time ‘cause of you!”

 

   “He shouldn’t have tried to hit me with a pool cue,” I argued back then shrugged, “So, you know I’ve been looking for you… do you know what I want to know? I have a feeling you know a lot of things that you shouldn’t.”

 

   “You wanna know about the Centurion,” she smirked smugly, “Too bad, I ain’t gonna tell a Clapper nothing.”

 

   “Fine, how about you tell the girl pointing a gun at your head, today’s my day off, I’m just Aurora Jagger. There is no Clapper here,” I raised an eyebrow and waited, she just smirked, I tightened my finger on the trigger. No response, she didn't think I’d do it. I fired. She screamed as the bullet seared a bloody streak across her cheek, skimmed through her hair and flew off into the wall further down.

 

   She grasped her cheek, “You b***h! My face! I’m gonna kill you!”

 

   “Well if you want to kill me you’d better tell me what I want to know so I don’t kill you first,” tears of pain and fury streaked down her cheek, mingled with the blood that leaked through her fingers.

 

   “I don’t know nothing!”

 

    “Liar, I can see it in your eyes,” she said nothing and I tightened my finger again, “I’ll give you to the count of three before I use your brains to paint the walls. One. Two. Two and a half-”

 

   “Fine! Fine! Please, I’ll tell you what I’ve heard, just please, don’t kill me,” ten minutes later I left feeling pretty smug, I’d gotten a place out of her, an odd place for someone to hide but a place all the same.

 

   I left Nina dumped unconscious in the dustbin, the word ‘TRAMP’ written across her forehead. The post office should never have let me buy those Sharpies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 6.

   The moon was low in the black sky, grey glowing clouds drifted around it, and a gentle breeze made the tall trees sway and the leaves rustle, covering my footsteps as I crept through the creepy graveyard.

 

   Tip number one if you want to remain sane before you’re thirty: don’t walk through graveyards in the middle of the night.

 

   I could have sworn the ground was shifting under my feet, the tombstones were shaking and the shadows were moving, creeping up on me. But it was all my imagination, I sensed nothing but death in this place.

 

   I took a deep calming breath and touched the knives strapped to my forearms, a gesture that always seemed to calm me. Damn I was a sociopath wasn’t I?

 

   I had two handguns on my thighs like Lara Croft and a sawn off shotgun strapped to my back, as well as a pouch of silver dust and umpteen stakes strapped in my utility belt along with a few more tricks. If the Centurion was here I’d like to be prepared.

 

   Although I was beginning to think it was all one big joke, as if someone would hide in a graveyard! Who did that?

 

   The moon was providing ample light so I headed to towards the huge stone crypt that stood bang in the centre, rickety with dead brown ivy creeping up its wall I thought it looked too fragile for someone to hide in, like the slightest touch would make it crumble to dust.

 

   But I had to be sure, I hadn't driven forty miles just to chicken out.

 

   I put my hand against the door, the stark white of the bandages made my fingers look like white sticks, not part of my body. I tried to sense something from it, but all I could feel was death and the grief of the family who had buried their great grandfather a hundred years before. No one had touched it… no, I was wrong, there was a faint trace of something, alive, weak emotions: anticipation, fear, a hunter.

 

   It could have been the Centurion, or it could have been someone like me, sent on a wild goose hunt.

 

   Only one way to find out. I pushed the door open, wincing when it creaked and groaned, but nothing bad happened. It swung open easily, then the hinges broke and I tried in vain to catch the huge door as it fell towards the ground, crashing down with a crash, sending dust into the air.

 

   D****t. I might as well have had a huge gramophone and shouted “I’M HERE!” for the whole world to know. I’d probably woken the dead �" not entirely unheard of in this world.

 

   But once the dust settled I realised the place was well and truly dead. Nothing was there in the crypt, my eyes had adjusted to the dark and I could see into all the corners. Nothing. No Centurion. Of course there wasn’t. I was mad to even think a cunning cow like Nina would tell me the truth.

 

   But even though I saw nothing I was reluctant to turn away, a nagging in the back of my mind told me the silence wasn’t right. Muttering curses I jumped down the steps and landed on the fallen door, when your instincts are telling you to run it generally means there's trouble around.

 

   The door shook under my feet, not the wood, but the unstable ground beneath, I froze, my heart stuttered as there was the sound of ground cracking and crumbling.

 

    And then I fell right through the earth. Still standing on the old door I was dropped through darkness, with the awful feeling of my stomach being left behind. And then all too soon we met the ground below and I was knocked to thefloor, rolling off the safety of the door and landing in horribly squelchy mud that clung to me and seeped through my clothes.

 

   I gagged and flipped to my feet, slipped slightly until I was back on the cleaner door. I tried to clean my fingers and wipe gloop from my eyes but it was near impossible. Well. My hair was officially ruined.

 

   Staying as silent as I could I looked around, trying to figure out where I had fallen, some underground chamber or pit of some sort, uneven walls of mud and tree roots surrounded me and the stench that filled the air was thick and suffocating, like rotting flesh.

 

   I heard a noise and had my guns out quickly, pointing them at whatever made the weird croaking noise. Almost like someone gasping for air. Something moved, the dark figure of a man. Even in the dark I should have been able to make out his features, only this guy wore a black mask that covered most of his face, and a black tight suit that clung to his body like a second skinHe was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a wide chest that tapered down to slightly narrower hips.

 

   Not the Centurion �" he didn't have violet eyes, and almost everyone I’d spoken to said he had violet eyes This guy had hard grey eyes, the only things I could see, and he watched me closely, his own gun pointed at my head.

 

   I was going to say something smart but I was distracted by the sudden appearance of a rotting face behind him. And I mean rotting. Grey, manky skin peeling off wasted flesh, revealing bones and shrivelled muscles.

 

   Well, that explained the smell.

 

   I made a startled, disgusted noise and shot at the zombie. The stranger barely flinched as the dead thing’s face was half blown away.

 

   And then I realised the floor was littered with ruined bodies �" and they were still moving. Some were getting to their bony knees, missing limbs and bones, tattered clothes hanging off skinny frames, tendons and bones showing through skin that either clung like Lycra to every detail, or peeled off like dried paint. Greasy hair stuck up at odd angles from wrinkled skulls and many were missing eyes and other important limbs.

 

   And we stood in the centre of them. And I had their blood and guts in my hair.

 

   “To my back!” I shouted, just as he roared something in another language, Spanish. Neither of us moved, just stared at each other, at a loss; I’d been homed schooled and never taken another language. I shot another zombie reaching for my leg and then pointed viciously at him and then to the door behind me.

 

   And thank god he obeyed, jumping onto the door behind me with an air of irritation; I rolled my eyes and shot at a particularly gruesome looking body. We stood back to back and fired off bullet after bullet, blowing away limb after limb, but we realised pretty quickly that even headless, or legless, or brainless, the Zombies just kept coming.

 

   I’d fought Zombies before, just never in such a big group, they were usually pretty easy to kill, but this was a big nest, and none of them seemed to be dying �" permanently. And zombies were made, usually their strength related to the makers, so whoever had made these must have been very powerful, because there were so many.

 

   My ears were ringing from the continuous noise, and we seemed to be keeping the zombies at bay, until one broke through and almost grabbed me, I punched the ugly f****r before he could bite me, my fist completely shattering his nose and half his face, and leaving rotting skin all over my knuckles.

 

   “This isn’t working!” I yelled at him, and he yelled something back, waving his handgun around and showing that he’d run out of ammo. Just as I ran out. So together we were a little screwed.

 

   Time for Plan B. I pulled out several black bumpy balls, the size of eggs, and pulled out the pins at the top before throwing them into the air, “COVER YOUR EYES!”

 

   I really hoped he understood because, whilst they weren’t flash grenades, they could wreck your eyes. There were small popping noises, followed by a hiss, and inhuman screams. I peeked through my eyes to see the air glittering here and there as silver hung in the air like dust. The zombies lay writhing on the floor, burning.

 

   I straightened up and looked over my handiwork, proud. The bombs were my idea, but Roy’s creation �" he specialised in explosions. Me, I was more into guns, or fire. I was a huge pyromaniac. Not healthy in the slightest, a therapist would say my addiction for fire was a result of a traumatic event during my childhood �" and they would probably be right.

 

   The foreigner looked around as I holstered my guns, then I grinned at him, “Silver bombs, useful or what? A bomb in the centre goes off, breaks the casing and sends out a shower of silver dust that burns every mother it touches. Now that, my friend, is neat.”

 

   He was silent, giving no sign that he had understood me. Cue awkward silence, broken only by the occasional moan and yell from a dissolving zombie’s ruined voice box. “So, what are you doing here? You a Clapper? Because you sound Spanish, and I know my geography’s bad but even I know England is not Spain.”

 

   “Clapper?” he repeated in a strong accented voice, “No. Not.”

 

   “So what are you?” I pushed, because he wasn’t your run of the mill hunter, not a human, too good for that, you didn't have to be psychic to tell that he was an experienced fighter, and he was so controlled I could barely sense him.

 

    But not bilingual. I pointed at my chest, “Aurora Jagger. I’m a Clapper.”

 

   “I. I am hired soldier. Mercenario,” he informed me with broken English, which meant someone European had hired him to kill a nest of vampires in the middle of Scottish countryside… random, but you learnt not to be surprised nowadays. “I Carolos. Hunt la Bruja… witch.”

 

   “Nice to meet you, Carol,” I smiled cheerfully as he scowled and corrected me with a mutter. Wiping gore off my hands I turned up to the hole in the roof above, it was one hell of a hole, not that much a drop though, made me feel a little pathetic for falling over. “You come down that way too?”

 

   He just looked at me and I could have slapped myself, “Of course you didn't, I did. Well, its one hell of a way to make an entrance, huh? Think I might have squashed a few zombies too.”

 

   Carolos was not impressed and I whistled, again, awkward. In the end I just wanted to leave, I had to persuade myself I needed to get away from the smell, not the awkward silence. And then he laughed, and I froze �" I knew that laugh. I looked at the man as, still laughing, he pulled his mask off.

 

    I stared at him, shocked, before a slow grin spread across my face, “You b*****d. You’re a b*****d you know that?”

 

   The man shrugged, smiling cheerfully, “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

 

   Now he’d taken his mask off I could make out his familiar features, a pair of mischievous grey eyes under thick eyebrows, one pierced with a thick silver bar, a strong nose and a square jaw dusted with stubble and tousled short brown hair. Oliver Murdoch, a formidable Scottish Mercenary who though twenty five usually acted like an immature twelve year old. I’d known him for almost three years now, ever since I’d first turned up at Army training camp �" the only teenager there with electric blue hair and an attitude. Not much had changed.

 

   Many had resented that they’d worked their asses off to get there, whilst I just rocked up one day �" it was a little strange but people just assumed the government was going mad, sending childerbeasts to gruelling army camps. Hell, I’d hated it, hated the Clappers, but there was nothing else for me to do, so I went through all the training, I crawled through mud, climbed up slippery rock faces and run up mountains. I wasn’t as good as the adults but I’d managed well enough.

 

   And out of the hundred or so recruits Oliver was the only one who befriended me, we stayed in touch after, so whilst I went here there and everywhere being given orders, he became a mercenary and was hired by anyone who could pay �" the army, he’d found, hadn't suited him. Something about orders.

 

   “Gift my arse,” I snapped, smiling wryly, holding my fist out and he bumped it, still grinning that childish grin. “I didn't know you spoke Spanish, and what is with that ridiculous suit?”

 

   He patted his chest then struck a pose, “It makes me look pretty.”

 

   “No, it really doesn’t,” I scoffed turning my back to him, trying to ignore the heat that pooled in my cheeks, glad that he couldn't see in the dark like I could though I was sure if I blushed any more I’d be glowing like Rudolph’s nose.

 

   Turns out I hadn't gotten over my crush for him, it was alright for a thirteen year old to have a childish crush on hunky men but I was older, it shouldn’t have been this easy for him to have this effect on me. Maybe it was the skin tight suit that stuck to every, and I mean every, curve and plane of his body or maybe it was the memory, still fresh in my mind, of the time I got drunk and declared my undying love for him. Yep, probably a mix of both. “Can we get out of here? The smell’s about to knock me out.”

 

   “I know how you feel �" stinks worse than my bathroom,” I wrinkled my nose but he just grinned and waved vaguely, “I came out through a tunnel �" leads under the church-”

 

   “Well I’ll meet you up top then,” I gave him a two finger salute before looking up at the hole.

 

   “You can’t make that, Jagger,” he scoffed as he jumped back into the squelchy mud, I smiled knowingly. He would see. Sensitives weren’t like most humans, we were… able to do a lot of things they couldn't, like jumping stupid heights.

 

   Bouncing on the balls of my feet I then sprung into the air, my fingers catching the slick crumbling rim of the hole, slipping slightly until I quickly heaved myself up, using almost all my muscles to swing my legs over so that I could roll onto the drier more stable floor that remained in the crypt.

 

   Then I looked down and grinned at Oliver, who stared up, open mouthed, “F**k me.”

 

   “Don’t tempt me,” I retorted before I could stop myself, yes, definitely a good thing he couldn't see my face. After mentally kicking myself I patted the floor, “Wanna try? It’s really not that-”

 

   I broke off when he suddenly launched himself into the air, stretching impossibly his hands reached for the edge, and to my surprise he actually reached. Although the ground did begin to crumble around his fingers and if I didn't grab his wrist he might have fallen.

 

   He caught my arm with his free hand as I pulled him up; securing my feet so I wouldn’t move.

 

   “Damn you weigh a tonne!” I huffed as I pulled him up, rolling over to give him space, he sprawled on the floor beside me, arm across my chest, practically pinning me to the ground,

 

   “Suck it up, weakling,” he started moving, getting up to his feet he dragged me to mine and slung an arm around me, “I agree though, those silver bombs are something else. Who made ‘em? And, uh, what’s a Clapper?”

 

   I tensed; I’d been thinking that he was a Clapper that I’d actually slipped. People weren’t supposed to know about us, Supernaturals did, not humans, and mercenary or not Oliver was a human and couldn't know about us.

 

   “Part of the SIU,” I said as we stepped out of the crypt into the fresh night air. He gave me a long look, not at all believing,

 

   “You, a eighteen year old, is part of the Supernatural Investigations Unit? You’re a lot of things, Jagger, but member of the SIU you’re not,” he crossed his arms and waited, one eyebrow raised with the air of someone who would get the answer through whatever means necessary. Arse.

 

   I fidgeted nervously, trying to think of an answer but cut me off when he laughed, making me suspicious. He ruffled my mud crisp hair, “I’m a mercenary, Jagger; not stupid. I hear things. I know what a Clapper is.”

 

   “How long were you going to watch me struggle to come up with an excuse before you told me that?” I demanded, irritated, punching his arm when he said a while.

 

    “So where’s your witch?” I asked as we headed across the graveyard, it was a little like the old days, when I would be knackered and covered in mud and he’d be there to cheer me up. Already just having him next to me made me feel not so grotty, I could almost ignore the fact that I had guts slathered all over my arms and neck.

 

   “Who knows, I’ve gotta go find her,” we stopped at where my car was parked, concealed behind an old holly bush; he flicked a lump of something off my shoulder. I didn't want to think what. Probably a mouldy chunk of flesh.

 

   “Good luck with that,” Witches, I knew from experience, were hard to track. He watched as I chucked my weapons into the trunk of the car, I didn't miss the way his eyes took in every single detail, and I didn't want to know what he thought. Some people didn't approve of eighteen year old killers.

 

   “You weren’t after her?” I looked up and down my clothes, the blue shirt with Elmo on the front obscured by disgusting stains, my baggy jeans damp and coated with blacks and reds. I raised an eyebrow at him,

 

   “Do I look like I was prepared for Zombies?”

 

   “Jagger you look like you’re prepared for world war three �" how much are you packing in this scrap of tin?” he patted the car and I shuffled uncomfortably,

 

   “Just a precaution…” he was silent again as I opened the car door and moved things around, trying to find the towel I always kept around. As I slung it around my shoulders I glanced at Oliver, he was a conundrum. He’d always acted like an immature idiot and yet you always got the idea that under the façade was someone who thought about everything ten times over. He was a careful person, so it was only after I’d finished studying him that he looked at me.

 

   “You want to come with me?” he sounded detached, like he couldn't care about my answer, but he was careful.

 

   “Can’t, I’m afraid; I’ve got other things to hunt. You catch your witch �" I’ll catch the b***h who betrayed me,” because no one made me walk into a nest of Zombies and got away with it. “But I’m with Roy, at Roy’s. You should drop by… we haven’t spoken in a while.”

 

   I wasn’t going to say why we weren’t talking; it was a little embarrassing. Unreciprocated love. Never nice.

 

   “I’ll do that… Jagger-” he looked like he wanted to say something important except his phone rang and he pulled it out from who knew where. He flicked it open and checked his message and a look of annoyance flickered across his face, “They found her. I’ve got to go, but I’ll take you up on that offer, Jag. See you �" and get a shower; you stink.”

 

   “Piss off,” I slapped his shoulder and got into the car, revving the engine I watched as he waved then melted away into the darkness.

 

   Embarrassing and awkward, I hadn't seen him for months; I hadn't seen anyone for months. But it was damn good to see him. I’d missed him.

 

 

 

 

7.

   I stormed into the house, marching through the threshold. I wasn’t in a good mood, so I uncharacteristically slammed the door shut behind me. The lack of the car in the drive told me Mel was out, but I knew Roy would be inside, probably stuck in bed.

 

   Of course I’d completely forgotten about Teddy. “What the hell happened to you?”

 

   I froze as my brother stood in the living room doorway, a horrified expression on his face as the TV screen flashed behind him. He was tall, like me, but whilst my natural hair colour was white blonde his was a little darker, his nose a little larger and hawkish, but for a fourteen year old he was already a handsome young man. He wore a simple white vest and some checkered pants, his hair tousled from a nights sleep.

 

    Lucky for some. I was still smothered with gore and mud, which stunk so bad I couldn't smell anything else. My hair was crispy and stiff, and obviously I felt disgusting. I obviously looked no better than I felt because Teddy was looking me up and down with horror, nose wrinkling with disgust.

 

   “Did you fall into a sewer?”

 

   “Ha-ha, Zombies, actually,” I marched past into the kitchen with him following at a safe distance, “did you get expelled? Wait, don’t answer, because yes, you did.”

 

   “I told you they wouldn’t keep me,” he snapped defensively and I gave him a look, not amused as I might have been if I’d had a proper nights sleep.

 

   “Did you try?” I waved away his answer, “Doesn’t matter, do what you want. Roy asleep?”

 

   Teddy just watched me like I was mad. Maybe I was. He could never follow my thought pattern, could never understand why I never seemed to care. I followed a motto ‘Each to their Own’. I wasn’t selfish, but if Teddy wanted to go out and join the army, fine. If he wanted to dress in leather and dance at clubs, fine �" I just drew the line with crop tops. And if he wanted to be gay (which I knew he was) then fine.

 

   I may not have been the best sister for it, or even the best person for it, but I tried. And that was the important thing �" at least it was in my mind.

 

   “No, Mel took him to hospital during the night �" he tried to get out of bed,” he actually made it sound like it was my fault. I glared at him as I disappeared into the pantry. He carried on talking as I moved to the chocolate shelf and several cans of Heineken. “Going out?”

 

   I paused in the kitchen door, looked from the chocolate to the beer, “Hunting. I just stopped by for refreshments. Oh, and,” before he could move away I swept him up into a big hug, even as he struggled to get away I ran my fingers through my hair, mud and other horrible stuff flaked off all over him and he squealed, pushing away,

 

   “Cow! At least have a shower before you go!”

 

   “Why shower? Aroma de Zombie �" s’all the rage,” I saluted him with the beer cans before I left.

 

   I’d have stopped for longer, but I’d had a phone call saying Nina was leaving on a train at eleven, and Roy’s house just happened to be on the way to the station, and I wanted chocolate �" the post office might have called the police if I rocked up looking like something out of a horror movie.

 

   Plus, I couldn't stay in a room with Teddy for longer than five minutes before we were digging at each other, riling the other up and then we’d end up throwing things at each other, food, cushions, china, vases, lamps… chairs. Furniture.

 

   Mel tried her hardest to keep us in opposite sides of the house, but somehow we found ways to shout at one another.

 

   Ah, the joys of being orphans. You either end up being really close, or you end up like Teddy and I �" hating each other just for existing.

 

   I blamed myself things got so bad. I’d gone off to army camp and died then become a Clapper, whilst he… who knew what he wanted to do.

 

   So long as he didn't die I was happy.

 

   Because dying: not fun. I knew from experience.

 

 

 

 

 

 

8.

   I got a lot of odd looks as I stalked along the platform. Edinburgh Waverly station could get pretty busy and today was no exception. I’d had to sneak into avoid the security checks and the ticket gates, but now I was the centre of attention, a crazy haired girl with mud, blood and gore smattered clothes. I tried to smile reassuringly but I think it only made me look even more insane.

 

   Heads turned, people broke off conversations and childerbeasts hid behind their parents legs. Still, there was a plus side to looking hideous �" the crowd parted for me like the Red Sea for Moses. So I managed to get to the train five minutes before it set off, all set for finding Nina and dragging her arse off and beating the answers out of her for a second time.

 

   I was intercepted by several security guards, each wearing neat blue suits and polished steel capped shoes, batons in their hands. I stopped, and people around us edged away, anticipating a big bust up. The oldest guy, with a greying beard and deep wrinkles stood forward, looking over me warily.

 

   “Now miss, we don’t want any trouble but we’re going to have to ask you to step outside with us,” my black mood had passed, like it always did, so I wasn’t going to give these men too much grief.

 

   “Too bad for you, handsome, because trouble just happens to follow me round like a bad smell, we’re like this,” I crossed my fingers and none of them looked impressed.

 

   “Please don’t make this difficult,” he stepped closer, hand subtly moving to the baton on his belt.

 

   I held a hand up to stop them from doing anything rash and pulled out a leather wallet, flipping it open to reveal my fake badge, “Look, I’m SIU, and if you hold me up any longer a very dangerous man eating Super is going to get on that train and murder everyone on it. Do you want that over your heads? Because if you do just tell me and I’ll back off, honey, but I didn't trawl through Zombies just to be turned away by Paul Bart and his Hapless groupies. Comprende?”

 

   He coughed uncomfortably and stepped aside, “Do whatever you have to do, miss, we’ll delay the train and evacuate the passengers,”

 

   “So thoughtful,” I gave them my nicest smile and slipped past to the train, by now people were hurrying away quickly, having over heard and wanting to be the first out. Maybe I shouldn’t have made Nina sound like such a psychopath.

 

   I boarded the train and started down the carriages, trying to pick up the familiar aura at the same time telling people to leave the train. I found her in Coach D, sitting on her tod, reading a gossip magazine and chewing her nails. She looked the same as when I’d left her, though she’d cut herself a fringe to hide the permanent marker on her forehead. But the wound on her cheek was puffy and sore, impossible to hide.

 

   She looked up when conversations stopped and I ambled forward languidly, her mouth popped open, “Y-you �" You’re-”

 

   “Alive? I know. Strange that. I mean, you did send me into a pit of Zombies �" smart that, very smart,” she was tense in her chair, getting ready to leap out as I leant against the table. “But also oh so stupid �" because now I’m pissed.”

 

    She leapt up to run but I grabbed her ponytail and dragged her back, slamming her down on the table. “LET ME GO! HELP! She’s crazy!”

 

   Passengers had been yelling and going to leave but now some silly brave men decided to step in, actually starting to reach for me, “Don’t! I’m SIU! She’s a murder suspect! I suggest you all leave now in an orderly fashion �" who knows what she was planning to do to the train.”

 

   “What?! No!” but it had worked, the men were turning to leave, I grinned triumphantly at Nina who narrowed her eyes with hate, brought her legs up underneath her and kicked me in the stomach, sending me crashing back into the opposite table. It almost broke my back I swear, and she made a break for it.

 

   Swearing I clambered to my feet and ran after her, cursing the narrowness of the aisle. I grabbed her shirt just as she made it of the carriage, and as she tried to turn and hit me I spun her round and threw her head first into the wall. She shrieked and spun, I ducked as her fist flew through the air and punched her in the kidney, a blow that, strangely, didn't seem to effect her because the next thing I knew she growled like a wild animal and threw herself at me.

 

   The weight of her body sent me flying out of the open door and cracking down on the platform. There were yells as the thinning crowd scrambled to get out the way. As I rolled over to recover something flew over head and I watched as the crowd split to let Nina run through, faster than before because she was on flat ground.

 

   “Typical,” I suddenly realised, as I ran after her, that she had wanted to be caught the first time. As she made a sprint for it, pushing innocent bystanders out the way I stopped at a small magazine stall and stole a can of sprite.

 

   I brought my arm back and threw, watching as the green and silver can soared through the air before aiming straight for Nina. There was a shriek and in a flurry of black and red she disappeared, knocked over. I punched the air then sobered as I looked at the stall owner, “I’ll pay for that.”

 

   Wincing I ran to where Nina was struggling to recover, an exploded and dented can of Sprite rolling on the floor beside her. Snarling when she saw me approach she got to her knees and flexed her fingers as they turned into long brownish black claws, fangs grew over her lips, giving her a feral look.

 

   “Now, you really, really don’t want to fight me, Nina,” I warned her just before she leapt at me, roaring like a wild jungle cat. I met her head on, well, fist on. My knuckles cracked into her nose and in an almost comical way she came to a stop mid flight. Arms flailed as I slipped to her side and kicked her in the stomach, watching as she skidded away on her knees, clutching her side.

 

   I waited, watching for the next move. She jumped forward, landed on the floor on all fours and pounced forward, tackling me around the mid drift we collided against the station wall. My head cracked against the stone and I saw stars, then struggled to draw in air as she punched me continuously in the stomach and sides, sometimes catching me with her sharp claws. She only stopped when I stomped on her foot.

 

   I brought my elbow down where shoulder met neck, numbing one side and loosening her hold. I brought my knee up into her stomach and as she staggered back I attacked her with a series of quick punches, then, as she stood dazed, swaying slightly, I held her by her shoulder and used one final, powerful, uppercut that knocked her off her feet and onto the floor.

 

   “Told you so,” I wheezed, looking down at her as she groaned, blood dripping from her nose, her mouth and her now open cut. I pressed a hand to my side when I realised the warmth trickling over my hips was not exactly a good thing. Blood. Great, the cow had scratched me.

 

   “Need help, miss?” I turned my head to see the guards, panting, watching us both carefully, I waved them away as I reached down and grabbed Nina, locking her head under my arm I swung her round carelessly as her lags dragged behind her,

 

   “Please can I borrow an office? I need to, uh, question her,” the old man nodded feebly and pushing his mates aside he showed me to a little red door with PRIVATE on the front, he held it open for me, assuring me that no one would bother us.

 

   “Cheers,” as I walked in I made sure to bang Nina’s head on the door frame; she grunted and struggled weakly, “Whoopsi-daisy. Sorry. Not.”

 

   The door shut and I flung Nina down onto the paper strewn desk, and then flipped the blinds, hiding us from the curious crowd. Then I turned back to her and pulled out a long silver stake, I held the point just an inch from her throat and a red mark appeared on the skin, like a burn.

 

   She whimpered but was smart enough not to move, her animal features had disappeared and she stared up at me with a scared and completely human face. “Please,” she whimpered, “Please don’t kill me.”

 

   “Why shouldn’t I?” I wasn’t going to, but she didn't know that.

 

   “He said he would kill me if I told, please you have to understand! He would have killed me!” she was sobbing now, I shook her shoulder, feeling little compassion for the woman in front of me.

 

   “Who?! Who said that? The Centurion? What does he want?”

 

   “Please…” she shut up when I lowered the stake even more, “Ok! Ok! He wants to get rid of  the Sensitives �" the really powerful ones! You know, Clappers! He wants all of you dead �" you’ll be next!”

 

   “Why?”

 

   “He doesn’t want to be found, he doesn’t want them �" you �" to find something. He’s meant to be hiding something I don’t know what I swear,” she saw the look in my eyes and blubbered away, “that's all I know! He wants the psychics and s**t dead!”

 

   I thought quickly. I already knew he wanted psychics dead, his attacks hadn't been random, but now I knew there was a reason �" hiding. Sensitives were good at a lot of things but finding things that weren’t supposed to be found �" that was our speciality.

 

   “Thanks,” and with that I dragged her off the table and stood her on her feet, making sure she was completely stable until I let her go. She watched me suspiciously, bruised face healing whilst I still bled. “Throw me through the window.”

 

   “Wha-?”

 

   “Hush up. I’m not evil, I’m not going to kill you, or lock you up, just for trying to save your own skin, so throw me through the window and get out of here before the police come �" alright?”

 

   She stood, dumbstruck, for a minute, until an evil grin spread across her face, “Don’t mind if I do.”

 

   “Bi-” I didn't get to finish it before she grabbed me by my shirt and heft me off the floor, then with inhuman strength she chucked me. Plastic blinds wrapped around me as I smacked onto the floor in a shower of glass shards. There were no screams because the station was almost completely evacuated but there were SWAT teams creeping up towards the office. There was another crash and I looked round blearily, half expecting Nina to be bursting through a wall, but then I saw her on the roof of the building, climbing to freedom.

 

   I flopped onto my back, staring up at nothing, completely exhausted. As men in black khaki raced past I cheered them on weakly, “Go get the cow, woop-woop.”

 

   “You alright ma’am?” a helmeted head looked down at me, eyes watching me through goggles and I couldn't help it. I burst into laughter.

 

   “Do I bloody look alright?”

 

 

 

 

9.

   Several hours later I was once again walking through Roy’s front door. The police hadn’t wanted to let me go, my story didn't fit, Nina wasn’t a murder suspect, I wasn’t SIU blah, blah, blah. In the end a, official looking guy in a black suit strolled over, told them all it was classified and that I was going back with them.

 

   I did, unfortunately, and I was told off for making a scene and, to my relief, suspended from work �" something about being exhausted and unstable, hence my recklessness. I didn't mind; it gave me time to find the Centurion without being distracted by other jobs.

 

   “Rora that you?” Roy’s voice called from the living room and I froze as I tried to slip my shoes off. “I have some guys over who want to talk to ya!”

 

   I looked at myself in the hall mirror, mud and black blood covered almost half my face, Elmo looked particularly gory, my blood now joined the flaky mud and guts and my bare arms, ew. I looked like the crazy woman from The Descent. I gingerly touched my hair, the spikes crisp and clumped together. Mud, though effective, was not a hair gel I’d recommend.

 

   “Uh… can’t it wait?” I called back, unwilling to meet anyone whilst looking like this, plus I could sense the people in the living room. I didn't want to talk to them.

 

   “NO! Get in here girl!” wincing, I walked slowly into the living room, “Holy mother of God �" what in Jesus’ name happened to you?”

 

   Roy was a stout man, not an ounce of fat on him, but what he lacked in height he more than made up in width. He was robust and solid, arms like a blacksmiths, bald except for a huge handlebar moustache, grey with age. Maybe, if it weren’t the lack of hair, I might I have called him a dwarf, like Gimli. The solid muscle men all brawn no brains.

 

   I scratched my head and shrugged, “Zombie pit. Then I had to go chase a strange half Were because she tricked me. Teddy didn't tell you?”

 

   “Teddy went out this morning, I woulda stopped him but I was out,” he shrugged. He had never been the best guardian, he didn't know anything about kids, which was probably why I turned out the way I did �" I was interested in guns and Roy knew a lot about guns. “Rora I want you to meet-”

 

   “We’ve met,” I cut him off, turning to glare at the two chuckle brothers, one slouched on the couch, the other sitting smartly. The two red heads looked back smugly, “Weren’t you meant to be going to Buckingham Palace?”

 

   “We’ve been; it was boring,” Mal answered, grinning lazily, looking so at home on the couch that I just wanted to wipe that look off his face.

 

   “You guys have history?” Roy asked, suddenly looking at the two with suspicion, getting ready to move, despite his leg being locked in plaster and propped on the coffee table in front of him. He liked to fight.

 

   “Unfortunately. They want me to go to America so Asher can boss me around �" I told them to shove it; if Asher wants me to do a job he’ll have to come and force me face to face,”

 

   “How about by phone?” Mason asked, holding a slim black phone up. I hesitated and he shook it, taunting me, so I snatched it up and strode out the room.

 

   “Hello?” I sat at the kitchen table, tense.

 

   “Aurora Jagger I presume,” he didn't wait for me to say anything, “I’m sorry for the trouble the twins must have caused and that things were no explained clearly.”

 

   “Just another day,” I dismissed him, “What do you want?”

 

   “These fires have gone on long enough. There is seemingly only one person behind them-”

 

   “Yes, I know �" he killed my dad.”

 

   “Ah, so this is personal. You should like this assignment then. I need a team of trusted hunters to find the Centurion and stop him from killing more people. I need you. I’ve read your file, you have good recommendations. Reliable, strong, someone who gets things done �" not exactly quietly but you still get things done.”

 

   “Well thanks for considering me, I’m honoured, truly I am �" but I don’t need a team to find this guy,”

 

   “The reward for catching him is £1.5 million �" that is, catching him alive-”

 

   “Say no more! Where do I sign up?” I could almost smell the money. Much better to catch the guy and get paid for it than to catch him and get nothing in return �" even if it meant working with Asher.

 

   “I knew I could count on you, Miss Jagger. Mason carries the orders . I wish you luck,”

 

   “Yeah, yeah, cheers,” I hung up and looked at the phone. Why did I have a feeling I’d just sold my soul to the devil. Oh wait, not possible �" I’d already done that.

 

   I walked back into the living room and chucked the phone back at Mason, holding my hand out for the orders, he suppressed a smile as he handed me a file.

 

   “What’s going on Rora?” Roy asked as I flicked through all the useless paper work, things I couldn't be bothered to read. When it came to hunts I relied on my nose, eyes and ears, not paper.

 

   “I’ve got a job �" hunting the Centurion,” I added and he frowned,

 

   “But you were already doing that,” he looked adorably confused, if grisly old men could be adorable.

 

   “I know, but this way I get paid at the same time,” I flashed him a smile before shuffling the papers, it was all about the team. The team I didn't need, “This is useless, what's the plan?”

 

   “We’re all meeting at Arthur’s Seat �" it’s a-” I felt a sharp jab of pain as my heart stuttered at the familiar name. I was quick to suppress my fear and interrupted Mason, hoping to change the subject.

 

   “Well of magic. I noticed one of the recruits is an elf, you want him to make a portal somewhere �" how’d you get him to join anyways the tricky buggars?” Behind me Roy, who had paused when he heard the familiar name, continued to flick through the papers once he was sure I wasn’t going to hyperventilate. However the two tigers looked at me as if I were the craziest person in the world.

 

   “How’d you read so fast?” Mal asked just as his twin asked another question,

 

   “You know about Arthur’s Seat?”

 

   I waved a dismissive hand, “It’s written in big red letters, how could I not see that you’d hired a Dark Elf? And why I know about Arthur’s Seat is none of your god damn business.”

 

   Their curiosity was piqued but I gave them a hard look that didn't erase it, just subdued it.

 

   Arthur’s Seat was personal. An area that was over the fey lines and plentiful in magic, making it easier for natural magic users to, obviously, use magic.  I’d made the mistake of following a witch there once upon a time.

 

   And it had resulted in my death.

 

   Hence the reason behind Roy’s and my sudden discomfort over the name. It was, understandably, a sore subject. But it was the first time I’d never had a panic attack just hearing the name.

 

   “So when do we leave �" sorry Roy, but with that leg you’re not coming,” he started complaining, like a little kid but I waved him off and held the file up as I walked out the room, “I need a shower then we can leave.”

 

   “So soon? When was the last time you slept?” Roy yelled as I started up the stairs,

 

   “People are dying; I can sleep later,” I called before slamming the bathroom door.

 

   I switched the water on and stared at my reflection in the mirror, deep haunted eyes with the secret of life after death hidden in their depths, a mind wearier than it looked. Once upon a time I could smile without it hurting. Once upon a time I could sleep.

 

    Roy didn't know, but ever since that witch sucked my soul from my body I had never slept a wink. Two years. Seven hundred and thirty days.

 

   No sleep.

 

   It aged a girl. Just like death did. I pulled my shirt away to reveal a shiny white scar in the centre of my chest, right over my heart. The scar was shaped liked a hand, a burn mark, deeper scars at the end of each finger where the nails had pierced through like individual daggers.

 

   I shut my eyes against the memory. Some Sensitives had heart attacks, some drowned in showers, some choked on broccoli, and me? Little ol’ me had to be attacked by the Wicked Witch of the West. Just had to be used as a sacrifice.

 

   I turned the hot water off and stripped before standing under the jet of icy water, cold enough to chill me through and through.

 

   Some would say the second chance was a gift from God. Sometimes I agreed, but other times I hated it. Because at the back of your mind there is a constant presence, you can’t ignore it, like a constant itch you can’t scratch, a nagging you can’t block out, a whisper of something. Not quiet enough to miss, but there was the fear that if you listened hard enough to make out the words you would be forever lost.

 

   Some people are smart enough to leave that whisper a whisper. That is, if you can beat the longing: the longing for that sweet calm that comes with death.

 

   I wasn’t depressed. I wasn’t exhausted. I wasn’t Suicidal. I was alive. Sometimes I loved it, most times I loved it: the rush when you stalk your prey, the beating of your heart when you hide, the exhilaration when you come out alive. That was why I did what I did, that was why I lived on the edge, and that was why Sensitives were such good Clappers. Because every time we took a life, or every time we survived, we’re reminded of how addicting living can be.

 

   Funny, that being a killer is the only way to stay alive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

10.

    “How?” I groaned, dropping my face into my hands, “How the hell did this happen?”

 

   “Cheer up. Roy said someone had to come to back you up �" why not me?” in the back of the old truck I looked up from my seat and glared across at my friend. Oliver grinned back, wearing a rough looking grey shirt and some loose jeans, his stubble thicker than ever. He’d come over just as Mal, Mason and I were about to leave �" and after some quick words with Roy had decided to tag along.

 

   And so had his three man crew. Not that they weren’t good, oh they were brilliant hunters �" one look at their guns and I’d caved, but it still pissed me off that what had started off as a five man team had suddenly become an eleven man team.

 

    “You I can deal with, it’s him I hate having round,” I jerked my head to my little brother, sat uncomfortably on one of the metal seats, clutching the edge tightly so the old truck didn't bounce him around too much. He was tight jawed, staring at his feet, wearing a black shirt and black khaki pants, his little bag of tricks at his feet, and valiantly trying to ignore Mal’s inane, infuriating chatter.

 

   “Naw, the kid’s alright �" he just wanted a peace of the action,” I shook my head and dropped my head into my legs, huffing like a grumpy child. We were heading to Arthur’s Seat, where the other three were supposed to be waiting. A German Sensitive with a larger file than I could be bothered to read, all I knew was that he was bad tempered, ex military and followed orders to the Tee. The other was the Dark Elf, a female from the Unseelie Court �" I still hadn't worked out why she was bothering with this job. The third was a Half Fairy from California, sent straight over from Asher himself, apparently she could turn invisible.

 

    Oliver’s crew were just as diverse, humans from seemingly all over the world. A heavy accented African woman, Kara, with black coffee coloured skin, hair tightly cropped to her head and a curvaceous body under a white vest and leather trousers. She seemed to hate me from first glance.

 

   ___ was Japanese and silent, with black hair that fell around his jaw, streaked with tawny dye and a compact body under a nondescript shirt and trousers. Another was a scrawny guy with glasses, Harold King, computer genius, his brown hair short and almost as spiky as mine; with his Chewbacca Tee shirt I knew we would be great friends.

 

   “Screw the money I should have gone alone,” I mumbled into my legs, groaning when Mason drove over a particular rough patch in the road. The old army truck �" compliments of Oliver �" had crap suspension and I felt as if I were sat on a bed of rocks.

 

   “Look on the bright side, Jagger!” I peeked up at Oliver, he smiled beautifully, “At least the company’s good!”

 

   “Debatable, very debatable,” he was cut off from retorting when Harold joined in,

 

   “How’d you two know each other? Old girlfriend you didn't tell us about, Cap’n?” I tried really hard not to blush, instead raising my eyebrow at Oliver I smiled suggestively,

 

    “Oh we go a looong way, Olli and me, don’t we handsome?”

 

   “Not as far as I’d like,” he waggled his eye brows just as suggestively and I laughed to cover my embarrassment, then I realised Teddy was watching with narrowed eyes and I instantly sobered.

 

   I let out a breath and slumped back in my chair, putting my feet up on the empty space beside Oliver, “I went to army camp and Oliver was there too. Turns out trawling through mud and barbed wire is a great way to start a friendship,”

 

   “Army camp? You went to army camp?” Mal looked at me, disbelieving, “You don’t act like an army gal.”

 

   Oliver’s sharp eyes hadn't missed the way I reacted to Teddy but he said nothing, just continued to joke with Harold and Mal, “You shoulda seen her! Coming into mess the first day in trousers five sizes too big and a beret too small to hide her blue hair. The guys had never looked so flabbergasted!”

 

   He went off into a story about the time one of the guys thought it would be funny to chuck me into a river �" from the zip wire twenty feet above. Joke was on him when I over powered him, attached him to the zip wire and left him hanging for the whole night �" if I remembered correctly it was the worst storm we’d ever seen that night. He left me alone after that.

 

   Teddy listened politely and I tried not to watch him. I was worried about him; I didn't know why he’d bothered to come, hunting was not his thing �" he’d made that clear to me for as long as I’d known him. And yet when he’d heard I was leaving to find the Centurion he was determined to come as well.

 

   Roy was ecstatic, me not so. No one wanted their little brother coming on a dangerous hunt �" he could get hurt! Sappy I know, but underneath my façade of the odious sister I really did care about him.

 

   By the time the story had finished I was pretending to be asleep, letting my head loll as I covered my face with a Mickey Mouse baseball cap, my ipod plugged into my ears to cover any noise.

 

   I had to think.

 

 

   I’d originally been planning on just leaving the group once we got to where we needed to be, but now the group was bigger �" and the addition of my darling brother complicated things. Despite Oliver being there I couldn't just leave him.

 

   I resigned myself to the fact I’d have to, for the first time in my career, work as a team. Yay.

 

   “We’re nearing Arthur’s Seat,” I heard Mason’s voice clearly and chills went up my spine. I stiffened in my seat and squeezed my eyes shut tighter; clenching my knuckles so tight they creaked.

 

    Breathing became harder but I tried to be silent, so as not to draw attention to my suffering. I didn't want to make it obvious I was having a panic attack. A hand landed on my leg, a thumb rubbed circles around my ankle and I glanced up blearily to see Oliver hadn't broken off conversation with his crew but was subtly comforting me, as if he’d sensed my turmoil.

 

   He helped more than he knew, and I was able to breathe a little easier. When he realised I was recovering he squeezed my ankle before drawing his hand away, and I went back to ‘sleep’.

 

   With every minute that passed I felt my chest grow heavier, the scar on my chest seemed to burn. I knew it was all in my head �" at least I hoped it was �" but it didn't make things better. I was terrified just thinking of the place, I wasn’t going to fare much better being there.

 

   And when the car groaned to a halt I was reluctant to get off, watching as the others grabbed their bags and filed out. Oliver stayed behind as I slowly retied a shoelace and fidgeted with a bag buckle, trying to hide the fact that my fingers were shaking.

 

   “You alright Jagger?” he put a hand on my shoulder but I slapped his hand away playfully,

 

   “I’m always alright, Olli, stop fussing,” I jumped out the back onto the gravel drive, the late afternoon sun warming my cold body as I stretched the kinks out my back. Mason led the others towards a run down shack on a slight rise and I looked past the shack and froze.

 

   There it was, the huge rise of earth, looming over us like a tidal wave, threatening to swallow us up. The smell of blood swamped my senses as green fire swam in front of my eyes, a mad cackle and chanting filled my ears. So scared, alone. Unbearable. Then a growing pressure in my head, an aching pain wrapping my heart in barbs. Screams, so many screams.

 

    The pain in my chest became unbearable and I think I made some sort of noise because the next thing there was a sharp sting across my cheek as someone shook me roughly by the shoulders,

 

    “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Teddy roared, storming into the corner of my vision as I slowly came back, Oliver’s grim, concerned face in front of mine,

 

   “She was having a fit, Jagger you were having some sort of fit,” he repeated slowly, still holding my shoulders tight enough to bruise.

 

   “Oh. Oh damn. Sorry Olli,” I croaked, distantly, trying to focus on his face, but even that couldn't stop my eyes straying back to the hill behind him. “Damn.”

 

   “What? Did you have some sort of premonition?” Teddy asked and Oliver tried to shush him, before he asked exactly the same question.

 

   “No. No, just a memory… a memory…” a sob burst out my lips and I pointed vaguely, “Died. Dead. Up there. She killed me.”

 

   “Jagger you’re not making any sense,” Oliver said cautiously before lowering his voice, “You scaring Teddy,”

 

   I snapped back immediately, horrified, he was right, Teddy had backed up a few steps and was watching me with worried, wary eyes. He didn't know the story. Only Roy, the devil and I did.

 

   “Oops,” I hiccupped before breaking free from Oliver, stumbling to the truck and puking my guts up on the ground.

 

   “Wow attractive. I can see why you like her, Cap’n,” Harold’s voice drifted over to me, followed by a thump and a yelp. Hands pressed a wet cloth to the back of my neck and Oliver crouched beside me, completely unperturbed by the mess on the floor.

 

    “Just like old days, Jagger,” his grin didn't match the seriousness of his eyes but I managed a small smile in return.

 

   “B*****d,” I mumbled as, with shaking fingers I pulled the cap off my water bottle, swigged it around in my mouth and spat it out before gulping the rest down.

 

   “What was that, Jag?” he asked after waving people to go on with us, he stood up as I straightened up and leant heavily against the truck, sweat pouring down my back and temples as my eyes, almost against their own will, continued to look up at the hill. I only stopped when Oliver stood in front of me, his chest completely blocked my view.

 

   “I died up there, Oliver. Witch killed me, ripped my soul out in a twisted sacrifice to bring back Nyx. It didn't work ‘cause I didn't stay dead but still. I d-” I broke off with a wild laugh and wiped sweat from my forehead, the world swam before my eyes, “I died up there.”

 

   And then I fell. Hopefully Oliver caught me before I landed in my own pool of sick because I was not sure I would be able to live that down. I didn't know if he did, I was completely out for the count.

 

   I suppose the only upside to fainting was that it was the only time I came close to sleeping.

 

 

 

 

 

11.

   I came too in a dark room, lying on a hard bench with a rolled up jacket as a pillow, Oliver’s. I could sense his concern all over it. He must have carried me inside.

 

    Rubbing my temples I swung my legs over and got to my feet, trying to shake off the grogginess. I recovered pretty quickly and listened to the argument.

 

   “It’ll be a rat race if we just follow the man around!” Mason snapped exasperated whilst a deeper voice, strongly accented cut in,

 

   “We can’t anticipate his movements! Our only chance is to track him and hope we catch up,” I almost scoffed at that, Oliver did,

 

   “Hope? And whilst we follow him more people die? I agree we can’t anticipate his movements exactly but it’s worth a shot,” I pushed against the door and slipped into the room, it was almost like an underground bunker, a long metal table stretched across the stone floor and fluorescent lights hung from old wooden rafters above. You could tell just by looking at who was where that the individual groups had been formed.

 

   Oliver was leaning casually against a wall, alongside his small team, but what was strange was that I got the sense that they were very individual, nothing team-ish about them in the slightest �" like it was all a show. Maybe it was. Maybe they’d only just grouped?

 

   Teddy stood beside Mal in one corner, watching Mason who leant on the table at one end, beside him was a curious little creature, short at five foot with dark greyish purple skin, pointed ears sticking through straw coloured long hair and big black eyes stared unblinkingly over the proceedings, a possessive hand on Mason’s arm. She must have been Mason’s wife, and the Dark Elf.

 

   The German and American stood side by side, the man had the bearing of an old army veteran, with cropped salt and pepper hair and goatee, a square grisly face and a thickset body. Compared to him the woman looked like a lit matchstick. Skinny with a frizz of bright red hair, a smattering of freckles on a deceptively sweet face but determined calculating eyes. She looked slim, too slim compared to Kara and me, a baby blue shirt clung to her frame and jeans hung around her hips.

 

   Alice Sullivan I guessed.

 

    “We can, sort of, predict his movements,” eyes turned to look at me as I walked in. Oliver and Teddy looked relieved whilst Mason nodded politely to me.

 

   “Sleeping beauty awakes,” Harold joked and I bowed with a flourish.

 

   “How are you feeling?” Teddy asked quietly and I waved him off,

 

   “Just exhaustion, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in yonks,” try years. I held my hand out to the two strangers, “Aurora Jagger, nice to meet you. How’d Asher get you lone rangers to join a team?”

 

   Because Wilhelm Goldstein looked as exasperated and annoyed as I felt at being in a team, he wore leather gloves that usually prevented any psychic mumbo jumbo but I could still sense his impatience. He didn't want to be looking after a team of incompetent children.

 

   “Orders are orders,” he answered gruffly and I smiled knowingly,

 

   “£1.5 million each too much to resist for you too, huh?” his lips twitched into a small smile but he said nothing. I turned to Alice and she took my hand in a weak grasp.

 

   Half fairy, with a big heart and an even bigger history. Finding the Centurion was personal for her too. I couldn't get all the details; I didn't want all the details. I was more empathic than telepathic. All I knew was that she was hurting, and eager to find the Centurion.

 

   “Alice Sullivan,” was all she said in a small voice before dropping my hand. I gave her a long look before walking towards the dark Elf, I didn't shake hands, I just bowed my head politely, and after a moment of studying me she returned the gesture.

 

   “How come everyone else knew not to shake her hand?” Harold whined and I finally looked at him, he was clutching his hand and had a black eye that hadn't been there before.

 

   Of course, he was human, he’d never met an elf before. I just grinned and called him an idiot.

 

   “Aurora this is my wife, Ama,” Mason said with such a look of love at his little wifey that if I hadn't been a little envious I might have vommed.

 

   “Are we done with the introductions?” Goldstein asked impatiently and I gave him an innocent look. It was all about first impressions; my first meeting with Mason and Mal hadn't gone so well �" I’d beaten them up and stolen their car. My first meeting with Oliver’s groupies hadn't gone so well when I’d first seen them I’d been stuffing my face with two day old profiteer rolls and through a mouthful of pastry and cream had said ‘And here I thought the witch’d kill y’all’. Smooth.

 

   And when it came to meeting the final members of the team I’d had a mental breakdown, puked and then fainted. I was only being polite as a minute attempt to patch things up.

 

   “Sorry, just I’d quite like to know who I’m working with,” I drawled dragging a metal chair from under the table and sitting down, the only person who did. Then, just to add the cherry on top, I swung my legs up and thunked my boots down on the table. “Anyhow. As I was saying, if you want to find the Centurion geezer you have to find the connections between his previous attacks. Anyone know the connection?”

 

   Silence. I was genuinely surprised, here I was hoping someone might have done a little homework,

 

   “No? No clue? You guys were chosen to hunt the most elusive and dangerous Super of our time and you haven’t even done a teensy bit of research?” I tried not to look too disbelieving; “Mysterious attacks, all exactly the same with no suspects and you guys aren’t the slightest bit curious? Not curious enough to do some detective work? Wow do I need to get a life,” I breathed when a majority of the room just stared at me.

 

   In normal circumstances I might have bragged I knew more than them but instead I just shrugged it off, “He’s murdering Sensitives �" the powerful ones. Apparently he doesn’t want something found.”

 

    “And how do you know this?” Goldstein asked, looking mildly displeased that I knew things he didn't.

 

   “Because I found someone who knew the Centurion,” I answered, surprised, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To me it was.

 

   “What and they just happened to tell you everything you wanted to know?” Kara drawled derisively and I wobbled a hand to show ‘sort of’.

 

   “First time I asked she sent me into a pit of Zombies-”

 

   “So that’s why you were there,” Oliver muttered, suddenly enlightened and I realised I had been so mixed up in my own thoughts I hadn't actually told him why I’d happened across the nest just as he was there.

 

   “But the second time I’m ninety nine point nine percent sure that she was telling the truth,” when Mason asked why I put on my best Sherlock Holmes impression, “Elementary my dear Watson. Plus I was holding a silver stake to her throat �" strangely enough it was more effective than the gun…”

 

   “Because bullet wounds heal �" silver doesn’t,” Mal piped up.

 

   “I used silver bullets,” I said distractedly, suddenly realising that the opposite wall had a map of Europe on it, I skidded over the table to have a look, “This is a map of all the attacks?”

 

   “The numbers don’t add up, if he were attacking Sensitives there would be more, hundreds more,” Mason said as I studied all the red dots, my brilliant mind whirring as I put all the pieces together.

 

   “He’s only attacking all the really powerful ones �" I’m on his list too, if I weren’t moving around all the time he might have killed me already,” I drew lines between the attacks, there would be several all clumped together, and there were at least five clumps in total. “Aha.”

 

   “What? Have you found something?” Mason asked, striding over, followed by Goldstein and the others, each wanting to see what I’d found.

 

   “There’s a place called Bunny Hill!” I informed them triumphantly, they all gave me dirty looks, so I rushed on, tapping each cluster, “Each place has a public Portal. He’s probably been using them to get around.”

 

   “Using portals to get around �" that's a bit obvious isn’t it?” Kara said in a snide voice and I turned to look at her, “You’d have thought someone would notice a serial killed slipping through.”

 

   “Humans have been living alongside shape shifters, bloodsuckers and pointy eared freaks �" no offence Ama - for over six centuries without realising, so excuse us for not noticing one person using the portals when hundreds do everyday,” There was an awkward silence and I nodded sharply when she said nothing. “Apology accepted. Now, where was the last attack?”

 

   Goldstein pointed at a place in Berlin just as Mason did, the Sensitive growled, “Get out of it, cub, this is my country.”

 

   Mason snarled but pulled away, I rolled my eyes and shared an amused look with Oliver who just shrugged, an ‘I don’t care’ look on his face.

 

   “Berlin,” I mused, looking at the single dot. It looked very lonely. “Doesn’t Frau Schultze live in Berlin?”

 

   Goldstein looked at me strangely, “You know of her.”

 

   “’Of her’? Honey I know her, she was my teacher for too long. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve never been able to sit down because she thought I wasn’t ‘ghetting zah emotions right’. That woman loves her cane,” I absently rubbed my butt, shuddering at the memory.

 

   The moment Roy realised the powers I had from death were a little out of control he packed my bags and sent me over to a sweet little town in the German countryside, I’d spent six months with the old woman.

 

   I’d hated her but she was a great teacher, without her I could have gone crazy and been one of the targets for my fellow Clappers. As far as I knew she was one of the most powerful Psychics in the world �" and goodness knew how old.

 

   “She was my teacher too,” Goldstein said, stunned, looking at me strangely. I guess he’d never thought Frau Schultze would take in someone who looked like me, with my blue and white spiky hair, my red and black striped shirt so big it hung off my shoulders, a pair of black trousers tucked into bright yellow Levi’s.

 

   Schultze had despaired over my appearance many a times. At one point she even forced me to wear a dress, but I pulled it off because I’m awesome.

 

   “Well, who’d have thought? What a coincidence…” we both looked at each other, contemplating. Then we nodded,

 

   “She organised this,” Goldstein said as I did.

 

   “Hooray, you both have the same teacher; get a room,” Mal interrupted, “Who is Flower S***s, by the way?”

 

   “You ever read those fairytales with the old friendly grandmothers who bake cakes and feed you sweets?” I asked and he nodded, smiling slightly, “Yeah she’s nothing like those. She’s scary, mean and a cold hearted b***h. But powerful. So our best bet is that the Centurion might head for her next.”

 

   “She can take care of herself,” Goldstein told me, seeming to ignore the others now that he knew we were kindred spirits, “Better to find out how he’s slipping through the portals.”

 

   “Gatekeeper?” I suggested and he nodded, “I suppose we’d better pay Ratty a visit then.”

 

   “I’m sorry, did I miss something? Ratty?” Harold asked, waving his hands in confusion, “What’s going on?”

 

   “Every Portal has a Gatekeeper, they usually control the flow of the portals, keep records on who goes though and who comes out. Ratty is the Gatekeeper of the Berlin Portal �" and not the most reliable person in the world.”

 

   “You’ll need a portal to Berlin then,” Mason said, looking displeased that Goldstein and I were planning without him; I suppose he thought it was his gig to lead. Too bad the majority of us weren’t all that good with orders.

 

   “Please,” I looked at Ama when I said that, hoping she would forget my previous comment on ‘pointy eared freaks’ because I really hadn't meant that to sound so bad. She nodded and walked away from us, leaving out the door I came through.

 

   “Jesus Aurora, would you please remember we’re a group, we have to work together,” Mason snapped as everyone else dispersed. I gave him an innocent look,

 

   “I worked with Goldstein, is that ‘together’ enough?” he made a disgusted noise and turned away, throwing his hands up in frustration. Mal sidled over, slinging an arm over my shoulder he stage whispered,

 

   “He’s all hot and bothered now and he can’t do anything about it because his wife’s busy,” Mason turned to glare at us as we laughed, we shut up pretty quickly, angelic looks on our faces. When he stalked away Mal laughed again, ruffled my hair as he kissed my cheek before walking away as well.

 

   “You’ve got an admirer,” Oliver noted, leaning against the table and picking invisible dirt from under his nails. His gang had gone away to go through their packs, Goldstein had separated to talk to Alice, leaving us alone.

 

   I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes, “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

 

   He didn't appreciate my teasing, smirking bitterly, “I don’t like him. He’s smarmy.”

 

   “So are you sometimes,” I chided, stepping closer I caught his chin in my fingers I tilted his head up to look at me, “Very smarmy. Very cocky. Infuriating most of the time.”

 

   I took the fact that he didn't pull away as a sign to continue. I glanced at his lips, “Mmm, infuriating. But don’t worry, handsome,” I kissed his nose quickly, “You’re still my favourite.”

 

   I walked away, refusing to turn back and look at him. Trick to getting a guy: make him jealous. Always worked in the movies, and it seemed to be working here.

 

   I wasn’t going to tell him Mal was gay.

 

 

 

 

 

12.

   Portals, I realised, were horrible. I’d never had to travel through one before, and I really wished it had stayed that way. I still couldn't walk in a straight line and we’d crossed through Ama’s portal twenty minutes ago.

 

   The only thing that made me feel a weenie bit better was the fact that all the humans couldn't actually stand up without falling back on their arses.

 

   “She did it on purpose,” I groaned, holding my arms out as I tried not to walk into anything. Somehow I managed to trip over something, which was ridiculous since we were in a park and there was nothing but my feet to trip over. Embarrassing.

 

   It was late, already the sky a dark navy blue, streetlights burned brightly like stars and people either hurried home or came out for a good night out.

 

   “Of course she did it on purpose,” Oliver mumbled, leaning heavily against a park bench, trying to kick some feeling into his legs, “You called her a pointy eared freak.”

 

   “Sorry, sorry, you’re right,” I jumped up and down on the spot, stretching my neck to get the knots out and flapping my arms like a demented chicken. “How’re you all doing?”

 

   “Soon as I can use my hands I’ll show you just how I’m doing,” Harold muttered and I laughed, then narrowed my eyes suspiciously as Mal tried to help Teddy walk, holding him a little too closely for my liking. Mal saw me watching and winked evilly. I snorted but was prevented from doing anything when Goldstein returned, Mason and Alice in tow. Ama had gone off somewhere to work on her glamour �" apparently it took Dark Elves longer to build up a good disguise because they weren’t allowed to mingle with humans.

 

   “We asked around, this Ratty guy is a regular at a Supers’ bar in Humdiggery Alley,” Mason said as we somehow managed to gather round, ready to listen to ‘the plan’. “We’ll go in, grab him, ask him a few questions, make him show us the record and if it turns out he’s corrupt we kick his a*s and leave him for the SIU to collect. Questions?”

 

   “Yeah, I have one,” Mal put his hand up, an arm still slung round Teddy’s shoulder, “Who calls an alley Humdiggery? Where the hell’d that come from?”

 

   “Named after the Warlock who lived on that street, he was some sort of Good Samaritan, so well liked the Supernaturals named it after him,” I shrugged and slapped my leg when it went numb, receiving a few odd looks for it �" or maybe it was because I seemed to know random things, “The humans call it something mundane �" you’ll find Supers have different names for most things.”

 

   “You don’t class yourself as Human anymore?” Kara noted and I stiffened, gave her a bleak look,

 

   “That’s neither here nor there,” I snapped before turning to look at Mason stiffly, “I’ll go in, along with Goldstein and Oliver. Han and Kara will watch the doors �" Harold you keep an eye on us via security cameras �" you have your gadgets right? -  Mason, Mal and Alice you wait outside for us to take down Ratty and bring him out.”

 

    “Who died and made you queen?” Mal grumbled just as Teddy complained about being left out of it. Kara’s voice drowned them out,

 

    “I am not going to be taking orders from a child,” she sneered. Now I didn't usually hate people, at least never for long, I was rubbish at holding grudges, my moods never really stuck �" I was generally a happy person, all smiles and song.

 

   But Kara was beginning to irk me, “that’s funny, and here I thought Mercenaries took orders from just about anyone.”

 

   “Ouch. That’s not fair �" we have some honour,” Harold joked weakly, looking between his teammate and me with a worried frown, like he expected us to go for each others throats any moment.

 

   “Oh please, mercenaries work for money �" and you’re saying there’s honour in that?”

 

   “What about you?” Kara spat, striding forward, it must have taken a lot of effort to walk, I could tell, “Aren’t you here for the money?”

 

   “Yes, the money appealed to me, I’m not going to lie, but the main reason I’m here, working in a team that will only get in my way, is because the son of a b***h we’re hunting murdered my father,” I almost wanted to slap myself, never use personal sob stories to get sympathy, it wasn’t right.

 

   “He did?” Teddy looked hurt that I hadn't told him, “You didn't tell me? Don’t you think I ought to know? How could you keep this from me?”

 

   “You’re still here for the money though,” Mal pointed out as Mason and Goldstein ordered us in loud voices to stop arguing �" then they looked at each other and snapped at one another for trying to take control.

 

   “Argh!” I threw my hands up in exasperation, “the hell with you all! I’m going!

 

    I stormed away from the group, grabbing my bag as I walked away and swinging it over my shoulder, the familiar weight almost dragged me to the floor I was so unstable but I soldiered through.

 

    This was why I didn't like teams �" we never seemed to get on. The longer we spent arguing the longer the Centurion had to go kill people. Although if Frau Schultze died I doubted I’d be that upset.

 

   “Hey Jagger, wait up,” Oliver jogged to my side, panting slightly as we left the park out into the street. “Woo remind me never to use a portal if you’ve pissed off the maker,”

 

   “I hate groups,” I grumbled even though he hadn't said anything, “We spend all the time arguing and no time actually doing anything! I should never have taken this job, just carried on working solo.”

 

   “Not very sociable are you?” he joked but I sensed his worry, and it hurt that people thought just because I led a very… secluded life didn't mean I was mentally unstable

 

   “I’m very sociable! Aren’t I sociable Bob?” I looked to the air at my left, gave a mad laugh and jerked my thumb at Oliver, “I know �" rude isn’t he? Not sociable my arse. Bob thinks you’re a jerk,” I told Olli completely seriously. He just smiled slightly and shook his head.

 

   “You joke but I’m serious, Jagger. You have to learn to be in a team �" not only can you get the job done quicker -“

 

    “You can also use your teammates as shields?” I suggested hopefully, he gave me a dark looked but ruffled my hair, in a brotherly gesture that still made my heart quicken.

 

   “It’s also good for you. You can learn a lot from others, just like we can learn from you,” I frowned and thought about that. Like anyone would want to learn from me, I was just point and shoot �" no aiming necessary.

 

   “So being in a team… you enjoy it?” I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral. Because there was something not quite right about his team, something not quite genuine. A group of mercenaries? It was as rare as a Werewolf’s steak.

 

   “Yep, good fun �" even better when you get along so well with your teammates,” his answer was quick, practised, “I’m lucky that way, Harold, Han and Kara and I go way back.”

 

   “Huh, so you get along with Kara and that lot,” I scoffed, shaking my head and pinned him with a hard stare, “I don’t see you hanging out at pubs �" not that you ever did that in the first place, we’re lone rangers, you and I, Oliver. That’s why you wanted to be a mercenary, for the independence. Were you forced into that team? Because I want to trust you, Oliver, but pretending you, Harold, Kara and Han are all good mates is ridiculous. I can see right through it.”

 

   He didn't look all that happy that someone had ratted him out, though his expression didn't change his eyes became unreadable, like a wall had been put up, and it hurt.

 

   “You’re not ready for the truth,” the air seemed to crackle with tension until I waved my hand and laughed it off; I did not want to fall out with him.

 

   “So long as it doesn’t get me killed then I won’t push, ‘Each to their own’,” I walked on, skipping along the edge of the pavement. Oliver snorted and followed, shaking his head and disbelieving,

 

   “You’re not going to push at all, are you?”

 

   “Look, a lesson I learned very early on is that you never, ever push things if you don’t want to know the answers �" learnt by poking a bee’s hive with a hockey stick,” and that had been the biggest mistake in my life. Roy still teased me about the way I ran flapping my arms right into the sunroom door �" I swear if you looked closely my face print was still there.

 

   “Smart…. So if I asked about Arthur’s Seat would I be poking the bee’s hive?” my heart went cold and I looked down at my feet, thinking of an answer through the haze of bad memories.

 

   “More like throwing rocks at an angry bear,” I managed a bleak smile before shrugging it off, “Anyways �" you’re not ready for the truth.”

 

   At that point we heard voices behind us, followed by the sound of footsteps, we turned to look at the approaching group, Goldstein and Mason at the lead with grumpy expressions on their faces as they sulked, Mal came right up to me and kissed my cheek,

 

   “Loved the dramatics, Oscar worthy really,” He noticed Oliver glaring at him and just draped an arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer into his chest. I didn't pull away, just looked at Mason, feigning confusion,

 

   “Can I help you?”

 

   He and Goldstein shuffled their feet, reluctant and stubborn. Whether it was because I was a girl, or because I was young, neither of them were happy with following my plan, but to my surprise Mason finally grit out, “The plan. We’ll follow it. It’s good.”

 

   “Wow, how much did that hurt?” I joked and he snapped his head up, snarling at me, I put my hands up in a sign of peace, “Sorry, sorry. Thank you. I knew you’d come round eventually: I’m just too smart for you to live without.”

 

   Mal dragged me away before Mason could do any damage and together we headed to the bar.

 

   As a team. I suppose I’d have to get used to it, for a while. Because teams and me �" we didn't go well together. I’d bet my life on the fact that at some point, soon, I’m either going to leave the ‘team’, or I’m going to be kicked out �" that is if no one kills me first.

 

 

 

 

13.

   The music was blaring out of speakers almost ten feet tall, making the floor shake, lights flashed on and off, blinding me, and the air was thick with emotions and sweaty people who gyrated on the dance floor or swayed as they drank their drinks, it was almost impossible to move there were so many people.

 

   I took one look at the place and instantly fell in love with it. They weren’t people, but Supernaturals �" always much better drinking companions. And Oliver said I wasn’t sociable.

 

   “How are we supposed to find him through this?” Oliver yelled into my ear as looked over the bar from the balcony above. I shrugged and sipped on my vodka and tonic,

 

   “Who cares? This place is awesome!” he didn't share the same sentiment, just threw his hands in the air and grumbled. Truth was I wasn’t in much better mood than he was. I had a bad feeling about what was going on. About him, about the Centurion, about the whole thing. We spent a few more seconds in silence, just watching. Kara and Han had the doors covered, and Harold was watching us via the security cameras, if Olli and I miss Ratty at least we knew the others would get him.

 

   “Why don’t they hate you?” Olli asked suddenly, carrying on at my befuddled look, “The Supers. You’re a Clapper, they know you are �" why don’t they hate you?”

 

   It was a question I’d had a hard time figuring out; in the end Roy had had to explain that not everyone hated Clappers. “Because we help. In our own, twisted way, we help. We get rid of things that are not only threats to humans but also to Supers.

   A werewolf mad in London looks bad for all the other Supers, a psycho vampire loose in Belfast looks bad for the vampires, etcetera. They come to rely on us to make them look good. Plus, they also don’t hate us because we don’t pretend to be anything other than what we are,”

 

   To prove my point I showed him all the weapons around my waist, the knives strapped openly on my wrist, the back up on my ankle. “Enough silver to smell a mile away, every Super in this room knows I’m a Clapper �" but are they chucking me out? Attacking me? No. Because I bet you won’t find a single person in here who hasn’t killed someone.

   In the end it all comes down to the fact that we’re all killers �" orders or not. That's why I like Supernaturals, why I always will �" because I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.”

 

   The last point was for Kara, who I knew was listening on the radio. It was suspiciously silent on the other line. I didn't make a habit of explaining myself; people could think what they liked of me.

 

   I glugged down the last of my drink and started for the stairs, I’d spotted Ratty at the bar, trying to flirt with a tall tanned chick. I’d recognise him anywhere, a scrawny pale man with lanky mottled green hair, big fishy eyes and a long nose. About as handsome as he was trustworthy.

 

   “I’ll tell you what though,” I called over my shoulder as Olli followed, “There is one group of people that Supers hate!”

 

   “What's that then?”

 

   “Council spies,” I bumped into a random man and made a huge fuss about it, yelling and swearing at him, catching the attention of some of the Supers watching, the man turned to apologise but I punched him in the face, “Bloody traitor! Spying on us again huh?! Well you tell your effing Council to bloody piss off and leave us alone!!”

 

   People got out the way as the man stumbled away, but some were slower and were dragged down by him, his drink spilling everywhere. Incredulous eyes all turned to me, “HE BROUGHT FRIENDS!”

 

   What followed was like something out of an old Western, where people just turned to their neighbours and began beating the lights out of them. It was quite entertaining, and provided quite a distraction. Glass were smashed, bottles were thrown as regularly as fists were.

 

    I even saw one woman, with the dexterity of a cat, leap off the balcony into the crowd, landing on top of one man forcing him to the floor before pouncing onto another. Until someone grabbed her leg and threw her into one of the huge speakers, completely smashing it to bits. The DJ in his booth swore angrily at them before leaping out and into the fray, using a piece of the broken speaker to bash a man over the head.

 

   Like I said, entertaining.

 

   “What the hell Jagger?!” Oliver roared, catching a man’s fist and throwing him over his shoulder into a group of amused bystanders, they weren’t so amused by the man, and even as he tried to scrabble away one of the group strode up to him and kicked him between the legs.

 

    “Just a bit of a distraction!” I called back slipping through the huge bust up, ducking as bottles flew over head, stepping over unconscious bodies and dodging fists. “Plus, we were being spied on! Someone’s got us tagged!”

 

   Oliver stuck close to me as I wove through the fight, heading for the bar where Ratty was somehow untouched and still drinking his drink, recording the whole thing on his phone and grinning.

 

   Someone stumbled into my path; I stopped as he pointed a wobbly finger at me, blood dripping down his mouth, “You motherfuckin’ spy!”

 

   “Wait! Not me,” I grabbed a random man and pulled him in front of me like a shield, “This guy is though.”

 

   He didn't need any more incentive than that, he brought his fist back and punched the man, I left the two of them to grapple as Oliver caught up to me, “You’re evil, you know that?”

 

   “Well it’s about time someone noticed, I thought I’d have to shave me head and get a cat!” I reached the bar; Ratty was totally oblivious until I stood in front of his camera and smiled, “Which side’s better? My left or my right?”

 

   He dropped his phone and I caught it, thanking him for the early Christmas present, right before I punched him in the stomach. As he double over I grabbed his jacket, lifted him off his feet and slammed him onto the bar. As he flailed feebly and tried to pry my hand off him I walked along the bar, dragging him with me, spilled drinks made him glide across easily, and broken glass cut him. I didn't really mind all that much, he did though, from all the yelling he was doing. Finally we reached the end of the bar and he’d gathered enough momentum that when I let him go he went flying, slamming into the opposite wall of the narrow corridor that led to the fire exit. As he struggled to his feet Oliver and I leant casually on opposite walls, watching him with mild expressions.

 

   “Do you want to do the honours?” I offered courteously,

 

   “Are you sure? You seemed to be doing fine on your own,” Oliver retorted and I teased him for being left out of the fun. He turned to Ratty who was backing away to the fire escape, watching us with fear.

 

   Oliver turned into the proper gentleman I knew he could be, “Here mate, you’ve got glass in your hair,” Olli made a fuss of straightening Ratty’s leather jacket before picking him up by the lapels and chucking him into the door which opened on impact, sending him flying back into the not so empty street.

 

   “Christ what the hell happened?” Mason demanded as we followed with a little more grace. Mal was picking Ratty up and putting him against a wall to keep him standing. The noise of the fight could be heard outside until we shut the door, then it was just a muffled din.

 

   “Jagger got bored,” Oliver explained and I gave the tiger a sheepish look. “We got the guy though,”

 

   “Half conscious,” Mal stated, watching as the gatekeeper slid to the side, eyes rolling in his head.

 

   “Oh he’s fine,” I dismissed their looks as I slapped Ratty gently on the cheek, “wakey, wakey slimeball, you’ve got a lot of ex-”

 

   He suddenly leapt forward with a scream, whacked me in the chest and sent my flying into the garbage bin opposite. As Mal and Goldstein restrained the Gatekeeper I rolled off the plastic and onto the floor, shaking my arms out to get rid of the pain,

 

   “Told you he’s fine,” Ratty was struggling against Goldstein’s hold until I pulled out a gun and pointed it at his head, once again I marvelled at how quickly responded to danger. He stood completely still, Mal and Goldstein inched away. “Now, as I was saying, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

 

   “Rory?” he wheezed, narrowing his eyes, “You grew. More, you bloody giant.”

 

   “Do you want me to shoot you?”

 

   “Maybe we should ask the questions,” Mason said, eyeing my gun warily, I shrugged, giving him the go ahead. I was trying to ignore the fact that Teddy was looking at me like he’d never seen me before. This was my world, little brother, it’s not yours. “Someone’s been passing through the portals. A murderer �" do you know anything about it?”

 

   “Murderer? God no, only people on the list’ve been passing through, there’s a restriction see �" all keepers’ve been told not to let anyone else through,” you had to hand it to Ratty, he knew when to answer questions. Goldstein was watching him as closely as I was, I could sense no lies from the creep, Goldstein nodded at me to say he was getting the same.

 

   “The man behind all the fires �" he’s been using the portals, the Berlin attack is most recent, meaning he must have used this one. What can you say about that?”

 

   Ratty looked panicked, and angry, “No one used mine! You don’t have to trust me but I do my job you prick! I make sure no one but the Supers on the list come through �" its practically law!”

 

   Mason looked at Goldstein, the old man nodded sharply, “He’s telling the truth,”

 

   I watched Ratty closely, his pupils were dilated, he was afraid, but not of us, “Or he thinks he is. Ratty have you been suffering black outs?”

 

    The weedy man flinched like I’d hit him and he proved my suspicion, I looked at Goldstein grimly, “He’s been hypnotised. Means we have the Centurion and a psychic to look for.”

 

   “How do you know the Centurion’s not the psychic,” Mason asked and I glanced at Alice,

 

   “Because people know about the Centurion, they know what he looks like, he’s threatened people to do things �" a psychic doesn’t have to threaten people. My guess is he’s the brawns of the whole thing and we have a criminal mastermind to deal with,”

 

   “Then someone has been betraying his own people,” Goldstein muttered, disgusted and furious. I couldn't blame him. A psychic murdering other psychics.

 

   Ratty shuffled on his feet, “Look, I didn't know, can I get out of here now?”

 

   I was about to say something when suddenly he jerked and red blood blossomed from a hole in his chest. We all watched incredulous as the gatekeeper slumped to the floor, blood pooling under his body. He’d been shot.

 

   “Hey, not guilty for a change,” I broke the silence, waving my gun. And then all hell broke loose. Sort of. Bullets whizzed around us and we all dived for the safety of the wall.

 

   “The shooter’s firing from North East!” Alice yelled and that in itself was odder than the random shooter. And then she started assembling a rifle. Christ. “I need to get to higher ground!

 

   “You need cover?” I asked and she shook her head, smiling softly when I told her she was mad. And then she disappeared, right in front of my eyes. She became completely invisible, gun and all. Weirder and weirder. I wasn’t the only one who was shocked.

 

   “You know she could do that?” Mal asked Goldstein, who shrugged

 

   “Not a clue,”

 

   And then the fire ladder began moving which meant she was going up it, and the shooter seemed to have stopped; the random gunfire ceased.

 

   “The shooter’ll get away before she’s ready!” Mason yelled, seeing the same problem I had.

  

   Which obviously meant, since I was the crazy one, I would have to be live bait. I began climbing up the ladder too, wincing as a bullet whizzed by, cracking into the wall beside me. There were gaps between each shot, meaning whoever the shooter was they were using a rifle, a sniper then. I hung on the ladder halfway up, just able to see over the opposite building to see the only place the shooter could be was an old church tower, every other angle was nigh impossible.

 

   My eyes zoomed in on the tower as something small reflected the light of the moon, and I popped off a few rounds, the distance made it impossible for my bullets to do any damage, “Hey Alice! You sorted?”

 

   I got no response and yelled as a bullet glanced off the ladder beside my hand, causing glowing sparks, the ricochet gouging a hole out of my hand, I almost lost balance as another shot seared across my shoulder, blood welled up out of my recently healed Wendigo clawed shoulder.

 

   “Jag get out of there!! Oliver yelled and I didn't need telling twice, I let go and dropped to the floor, rolling out of the way in case the b*****d decided to shoot me again. I bumped into the wall and tore a strip of fabric from my shirt, wrapping it tightly around my hand. Another hand full of wadded bandages came down on my shoulder and looked at Oliver gratefully; he gave me his legendary languid smile and ruffled my hair, “Crazy cow.”

 

   “What can I say?” I grumbled back, echoing his words, “It’s a gift.”

 

   We both looked up as there was the echo of a rifle shot, closer and louder. We waited, Mal got up and danced around in the alley. No one shot him �" shame �" and then Alice’s voice buzzed through our radios, “Think I got him, we’ll have to go find him.”

 

   “Right. Alice go with Goldstein, Mal and Oliver, Mason and Teddy you wait for Kara and Han when they come out and tidy this up,” I pointed at Ratty’s body.

 

   “Why can’t we leave him?” Mal asked, toeing the body with a grim look,

 

    “Because I’m not sure about you but I don’t want to be waylaid by a murder we didn't actually do �" it wastes time, plus we’ll be blamed for it, do you know the penalty for murdering a Gatekeeper? Neither do I and I don’t want to find out,”

 

   “What about you?” Mal’s twin looked even more irritated than usual, I guess he was annoyed that I was taking control again. He’d have to get used to it; I only told them what to do because it kept them out my way. Plus if I was alone it would be exactly what I would do; find murderer, then clear up my mess to save paperwork.

 

   Oliver was right, being in a group was handy �" it meant I finally had enough hands to do everything at once! Score.

 

   “Well, I’ve got a funny feeling…” right on time Harold’s voice fizzed over the radio just as Kara and Han skidded round the corner,

 

   “There really were Council Spies! They’re after Aurora!” everyone looked at me and I shrugged in a ‘what-can-you-do’ way. We didn't question how he knew they were after me �" he was the one on the camera’s, but he felt like he should explain anyway, “I can lip read, they came out of the club at some point during the fight, spoke to someone on a phone about ‘getting Jagger’.”

 

   “Who’ve you pissed off this time?” Oliver joked bleakly and the trouble was I had no idea,

 

    “You’re guess is as good as mine �" there are so many possibilities…” I looked at Kara and Han, they were out of breath and looked a little worse for wear, “You get caught up in the tussle?”

 

   “Could you not have warned us? I spent the fifteen minutes trying to beat my way through a crowd of Weres who thought I was a Council Spy,” she grit out, eyes burning with hate. Han said nothing.

 

   I smiled bitterly, “Good thing you're not a spy then,” Silence. “Curious.”

 

   “What should we do about them?” Mal asked as Alice joined the group and Harold yelled over the radio, telling us they were getting closer.

 

   “Not ‘We’, I. I’m going to go lead them away, in the meantime you lot clear this up and find the b*****d who ruined my shirt �" five quid from Primark! I’m not happy!” I turned and ran out the way Kara and Han came, sprinting towards the front of the club. I practically ran into the spies.

 

   I skidded to a halt and stared at the men. A group of six, funnily enough the man I had first hit was one of them. “Yoohoo, looking me, lads?”

 

   They all turned and pinned me with black glares. I had to admit I was a wee bit intimidated, Council Spies were sent from the various councils spread around the worlds, vampires, Weres, Fairies, Elves all things bright and beautiful. They were trying to keep an eye on their minions without being obvious but I didn't know a single Super who didn't resent the fact their councils didn't trust them.

 

   Most spies were small nondescript people who could pass as average civilians, but this lot were huge, beefy strapping men from New Zealand’s Rugby team. At least that was what it looked like, it was quite scary.

 

   And when they all started moving in on me I didn't stick around to be my normal Smart Alec self, I turned tail and ran.

 

   They thundered after me, a pack of wolves after a weenie rabbit.

 

   Then again, this rabbit was packing enough munitions for a small army; the spies didn't stand a chance.

 

 

 

 

14.

   “Can we at least talk about this?” I yelled from my perch, and then cowered as bullets peppered the doomed roof, stone tiles shattered and fell to the earth. I winced and slid back a few metres, balancing precariously on the wood.

 

    The stupid spies had chased me all the way to another church, what was it with Berlin and churches? Not that I had a thing against them, I was just curious. I guess I wasn’t all that religious.

 

    I had to give the men credit, they had stamina and speed. And more brains than I’d thought. They’d separated then somehow outrun and circled me, cornered me, and forced me into the church, now I was stuck in one of the rafters above. Only the shadows protected me from sight, I couldn't shoot without giving my position away.

 

   “I apologised! What more do you want from me?” I yelled then leapt off the beam as bullets riddled holes in it. I caught the one opposite, landing heavily across it, bruising my ribs. I swung my legs over and looked down. I could see each man; they’d separated and were crouching behind the columns, one hid in the pulpit, all pointing handguns up at me.

 

   “We need to take you in, Jagger,” the man in the pulpit called back, the one I’d started the fight with.

 

   “Why? I’m a Clapper �" I work for the bleeding council!” curiously they didn't shoot. I watched their movements closely, they kept sending hand signals to one another �" too much communication, they were sloppy.

 

   “Who said we worked for the Council?”

 

   Who else would they work for? But then it did make sense, Asher controlled most of the councils, and he’d hired me, so spies coming after me was a bit strange. If they worked for someone else though I was in trouble, because I had no idea who they were �" and I took pride in the fact that I knew everything.

 

   “Well who do you work for?” There were only so many people I could have pissed off, and none were rich enough to hire their own mercenaries �" because that was what I realised these guys were, mercenaries. They didn't work as a team, these men were better on their own, lone hunters, not a pack.

 

   “Why don’t you come down and we’ll tell you?” Pulpit man called, gesturing angrily at the other men, they ignored him and continued ducking and weaving through columns until their circle was larger, making gaps. Individual death traps if I even thought about making a break for it.

 

   I checked my guns, I had almost no ammo. Stupid. I shouldn’t have shot back when I was outside. We’d had a proper little Cowboys and Indian moment, shooting at one another whilst we ducked behind street lamps and bins. I had a new graze on my cheek where I’d come close to losing an eye �" incidentally it was almost exactly the same place where I shot Nina, bloody Karma was out to get me.

 

   I could only use one gun, my shoulder was numb from the gun wound earlier and I couldn't move my fingers because of the gaping bloody hole that practically went straight through the middle of my hand.

 

   I’d only realised too late that I’d left my grenades and shizzle back in my bag with Oliver, so that was one option out.

 

   “How about you tell me and then I come down?” I started moving towards the huge chandelier that hung from a thick black chain; the chain went up to a pulley in the roof but the rest of the chain went down to a catch in the wall below, holding it in place.

 

   A plan was already forming in my head as the man called up, “Do I look stupid?”

 

   “Do you really want me to answer that?” I covered my head as a bullet whizzed by, cracking into the stone above me. “Never mind,”

 

   “If I tell you then what's to say you’ll come down?”

 

   “I have no bullets left, I’m bleeding and I’m f*****g knackered! I can’t be bothered with this s**t anymore! You tell me and I’ll come down! I just like to be prepared!”

 

   There was a long silence and I edged along the wood, finally reaching the huge chain at the same time looking down and marking the positions of each man.

 

   “SIU. The Capture and Containment Division for Dangerous Creatures.”

 

   I scoffed, right, of course SIU were hiring soldiers of Fortune, not very professional, and SIU were all about being professional. Then I sobered. What if they were hiring soldiers of fortune on the side? Ooh, that wasn’t good publicity, SIU’s squeaky clean reputation would be ruined, with meant this CCDDC was a secret division and not something the Supers knew about.

 

   SIU acted like a police force, they detained Supers on the wrong side of the law, and investigated things that could be Supernatural related, and they made sure the Supers got equal treatment and punishment. But they never, ever dealt with dangerous creatures �" they were human, they’d be killed. That was the whole point of the Clappers, and the odd daredevil mercenary.

 

   “And why do you want me, exactly? Do I class as a Dangerous Creature or is this some elaborate way to make me enlist and join your forces of evil �" because it’s not working!”

 

   “SIU has been watching you for years �" at first they weren’t concerned when you began training to be a Clapper, and then you bean to excel in weaponry and defence �" to be honest, after today, I’m surprised they didn't try and get you sooner!”

 

   “Are we still sore over the fight in the bar, because I am sorry about that �" but you really don’t understand, I’m here doing a job, any trouble I’ve caused is usually because I’m doing a job, that fire in Newcastle for example! I was trying to get a poltergeist! The derailed train in Moscow! An ogre got lost! But I got him back to his cave remember! And now! Now I’m trying to find the guy who’s killing all the Sensitives!”

 

   “Orders are orders, you’re classed as a top level security threat �" you’re fifth on the list,”

 

   “Only fifth?” a bullet skimmed by a few metres wide and I rolled my eyes, apologising. “So, what’s my file like?”

 

   “Heavy,” another man responded with a gruff voice, “you’re one talented person I’ll give you that.”

 

   “Did it mention that I’m Shooting Times youngest champion? Under eighteens Top Shooter title holder for five years still running-”

 

   “Enough of this! We’ve told you who we are, now come down Jagger!”

 

   “Alright, alright, keep your panties on; I’m coming,” I took aim with my gun and shot the clasp holding the chain to the wall, luck was on my side as I broke almost immediately. The chain whipped off the wall and up as the chandelier began it’s fall to earth, I leapt off the rafters and landed heavily on the metal, my foot slipped awkwardly but I wrapped my useless arm around the centre and clung for dear life.

 

   Bullet whizzed by as I plummeted, wind whooshed around me and I cowered, completely out of bullets. Thank the lord nothing hit me, and even as I dropped by a statue of Mary I thanked her.

 

 

   When I could see the pattern in the small tiles of the floor I leapt off the chandelier and met the ground just as it did, shattering the neat tiled floor with an almighty crash that shook the ground. I took cover under the pews as dust and clay shot up in a mushroom cloud, my whole body, still sore from my bust up with Nina, complained and I hid under the pew, trying to ignore the pain.

 

   Only when the echoes of the crash had completely subsided did I roll out and get to my feet. Silence. Someone tried to sneak up behind me, he managed to grab my shoulder before I spun, clasped his arm and yanked him over, except he dragged me to the floor with him. As we sprawled on the floor I rolled off him and elbowed him hard in the face even as he punched me in the kidneys.

 

   I rolled back on top of him and after a series of quick punches and the occasional block the guy was unconscious. I stood up, clutching my side and gasping for air.

 

   A shot rang out and I dropped to a crouch, bringing out a knife which I then threw at another man, the blade sank into his left shoulder and he fell to the floor. I quickly stole the unconscious man’s gun and staying low ran for the other fallen man.

 

   He was still moving, his gun in his hand until I stomped on his wrist, “Cheers handsome,” I wheezed and picked up the dropped gun. Then held both up just as two men surrounded me, their own guns level with my head.

 

   Ah. ‘Not good’ would be an understatement. One arm was dead and it was a struggle just to keep my finger still on the trigger, and I felt as if I’d been trampled by elephants.

 

   “Game’s up, Jagger,” one of the men was the one from the pulpit, he’d somehow assumed role of leader. Two of his men were out for the count; the other two were creeping up the pews further down the church. And the other one holding the gun to my head looked like he really wanted to pull the trigger.

 

   So it was a bad time to laugh.

 

   “I don’t think you’re in the position to laugh,” he growled.

 

   “Really? Because you’ve just gone and done the stupidest thing in the world and you have no idea you’ve done it,” I laughed again and shook my head, pulling my guns away and aiming them up to the skies.

 

   “What have we done?”

 

   “Don’t listen to her! She’s just trying to scare you!” Pulpit guy yelled and I gave him a sardonic look,

 

   “One: you were stupid to even take the job,”

 

   “Shut up!”

 

   “Two: you were stupid to tell me who you are,”

 

  “I said shut up!” he pressed the gun to my head, I didn't move, taunting him with my eyes,

 

   “Three: you should have shot me when you had the chance,” and he pulled the trigger, by which time I’d already moved out the way in a movement so fast it was impossible. Of course that meant he shot his teammate he dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

 

   I grabbed his arm and brought my hand up, hitting his elbow and bending his arm the wrong way, he roared and swung his free arm at me but I blocked it and kicked the inside of his knee, causing him to stumble. I judo chopped his neck with the gun still in hand. Then watched as he opened and shut his mouth, watching me with wide surprised eyes before they rolled into the top of his head and he toppled backwards.

 

   The other two men charged. I didn't even move. I was too exhausted, which meant I couldn’t take credit for what happened next.

 

   There was a muffled yell followed by a growl, a snap, and then a shot followed by another crunch of a neck being broken. There was a long silence, and then I finally convinced myself I did want to see what had happened to the guards. I turned slowly to see a tall lean figure stalking forward, eyes glowing red under a tousled bed of white blonde hair. With his pale features he looked like some sort of ghost, but I knew he was a vampire. He wore a simple black shirt that clung to tight muscles, and whilst I watched him I mentally ran through all the weapons I needed to kill him.

 

   The vampire tilted an invisible hat at me and then kicked the bodies dispassionately, making sure they were dead.

 

   “You are more trouble than you are worth,” a croaky old voice huffed and I squinted as someone small and hunched shuffled past the bodies. My heart sank. Wearing a pleat skirt that skimmed her ankles, a puce cardigan and pointy horned glasses, with her grey hair pulled back tightly, she looked like an evil librarian.

 

   Frau Schultze stood in front of me, watching me with a displeased look. Her cane tapped the floor and my butt tingled. This was not good.

 

   “Hello Frau… how are you? Good to see you, long time no see. How’d you find me? Wait, stupid question, next one: who’s the vampire?”

 

   “My bodyguard Danny �" apparently I’m in danger from a serial killer so the council sent me him, why they think I need protecting I have no idea �" I may be old but I’m not defenceless. Plus he doesn’t know how to make chicken broth �" what age do we live in where men do not know how to make broth.”

 

   “These men have badges on them, Supernatural Investigations Unit,” he told us in a calm voice tinged with amusement,

 

   “I know who they are,” Frau and I said at the same time, we gave each other looks, hers hard and mine apologetic.

 

   “You are in very big trouble,” she told me, fingers tightening on that pesky cane,

 

   “Yes I think we’ve established that,” I muttered, yawning and she gave me a sharp look,

 

   “I almost didn’t bother coming to help you,” she bit out, I looked at the unconscious men on the floor,

 

   “I was doing fine on my own,” I shot back defensively,

 

   “Oh, so when you were cowering from those two men you actually had a plan? You could have fooled me. What were you going to do? Pray and hope the bullets somehow missed?”

 

   “I was working on it,” I huffed, scuffing my feet on the floor, “Anyway; four out of six is pretty good.”

 

   “You’ve ruined my church �" that chandelier was an antique, it survived two World Wars!”

 

   We looked at the twisted heap of metal, one of the candle holders twisted off and clattered to the floor, “Well past its date then?”

 

   “Why I ought to…” she broke off, mumbling, turned and shuffled away, waving her cane in the air so viciously Danny had to step out the way to avoid being poked in the eye, the way he moved suggested this wasn’t the first time. “Danny! Bring her! At least I know she can cook!”

 

   I threw my hands up in the air, “d****t I’m not your slave, woman!”

 

   “Don’t you woman me young lady! Where are your manners? If I want soup I get soup!” the old crone disappeared out the door leaving me with the vampire. We looked at each other, the same suffering looks on our faces,

 

   “How long have you been with her?”

 

   “Three weeks,” he sounded like he’d lost the will to live… unlive or whatever it was he did, “I’m trained to protect the Councils, Kings and Queens, not old biddies with bad tempers and a horrible taste in music,”

 

   “Has she got you turning the pages of her viola music yet?”

 

   “Every Tuesday and Thursday �" and Saturday is Bingo night. Bingo night!” I nodded understandingly, been there, done that.

 

   “Hey! Look on the bright side!” he waited for me to go on, as if he couldn't believe there was an up to this whole thing. “At least you got to kill someone! Two someones!”

 

   “I’d rather kill her and be done with it,” he growled as we stepped over the dead bodies and made our way to the huge doors, I leant heavily against the poor bodyguard, vampire or no he was a great source of support, and since I couldn't really feel my legs I needed all the support I could get.

 

   “Danny, I think I might just love you,” he just laughed, a clear rich laugh that probably hadn't been heard for a long time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

15.

   “OW!” I yelled as the heartless woman in front of me used tweezers to dig around in my hand. Schultze had taken me back to her sweet little home only two streets away from the church, and then, without even offering me any biscuits or tea first, she sat me down, dug out her first aid kit and began torturing me.

 

   “Stop complaining �" you’ve been through worse than this,” she sounded anything but sympathetic, I grumbled and scowled at her, wanting to yank my hand back but she held it in a vice like grip, her old fingers strong as wire.

 

   “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” a mug of steaming hot cocoa and a plate of chocolate biscuits was put in front of me and I looked at Danny gratefully; some vampires still had manners. “The Blood doesn’t bother you?”

 

   “Your blood is tainted,”

 

   “Yeah but my a*s is awesome,” I snapped back, offended for some reason, he grinned a crooked little smile that revealed the most of his wicked teeth. Most only did that to threaten others, he did it because automatically because he was dangerous, no point denying it by acting otherwise.

 

   “You have shrapnel pressing against the nerves in your hand; I would not be surprised if it has torn some,” and with that she pulled out a small hunk of metal, I wrinkled my nose,

 

   “Ew. So what does that mean? Can I not use my hand anymore?” I tried wiggling the fingers, they only twitched. Thank god I was ambidextrous.

 

   Schultze picked up my hand and waved it around thoughtfully, “You can use it as a bludgeon until it heals.”

 

   “Ta ever so,” I breathed as she pulled out her needle and thread, I winced: this would be bad. I wasn’t unused to stitches but I was usually in hospitals, in a sterile environment, with several painkillers down my throat.

 

   “I’ll do you’re shoulder next �" these bandages of yours are terrible,” I gagged as she pulled a slither of red fabric from my hand,

 

   “I’m sorry, I didn't have time to go to the doctors and get properly sorted out,”

 

   “Good thing too, they’re useless,” I hissed as she jabbed her needle through my skin, no warning whatsoever.

 

   “Dang it woman!”

 

   “Hush,” she scolded, stuffing a biscuit into my mouth. “Now then, let me get things straight. You have joined a team put together by Asher so that you can find the man who is murdering Sensitives. You found that he is using the portals and came to Berlin where the most recent attack was �" and then the Gatekeeper was murdered. At the same time you are being hunted by SIU who want to find out what makes you tick so that they can reproduce it.”

 

   “You make it sound so simple,” I mumbled through biscuit crumbs. The cut on my cheek split with the movement of chewing and Danny helpfully passed me a cloth.

 

   “Don’t talk when your mouth is full!” she tugged viciously on the thread and I yelped, choking on the biscuit. “Now. You have a few options. Leave your team and lay low �" but hiding has never been a forte of yours. Or you can confront the SIU �" suicide. Or you can get help from Asher �" he’s the man in charge, he should be able to do something.”

 

   “I’d rather die then ask that b*****d for help,” I glanced at Danny who seemed unperturbed by my hate towards his master. He simply watched the two of us closely, like a dog, waiting for something to happen, ready to leap in and defend one of us.

 

   “You still blame him for your mother’s death?”

 

   Another story I had never told Teddy. He had never understood my hate towards the council. Ten years ago the Supers of America revealed themselves �" and the rest of the world was shoved to the side, Asher hadn't thought to warn everyone else. Humans took things into their own hands, there were murders, attacks, on anyone they thought might have been a ‘freak’. My mother was one of those people to be killed.

 

   I’d never forgiven Asher for forgetting the rest of the world. He was the cause of so many deaths, not just my mothers. Supernatural implies something scary, something unknown, something fictional. We should have stayed that way.

 

   “Stupid question,” she sighed, tugged some thread through skin then snipped it off. “Shoulder now.”

 

   I pulled my shirt up and off; grinning as Danny, the vampire gentleman, turned away and walked out the door, not before his eyes lingered on the pale scar. It was a real mood killer; it also meant I couldn't wear low cut tops without drawing attention to it; I had been called a prude more times than I could remember.

 

   “So, you won’t ask the vampire for help. Well, I suggest you go hide. You cannot be in the team without endangering them �" and your brother.” I took the antiseptic cloth from her before she could attack me with it and wiped it over my shoulder, quickly but efficiently. I wasn’t unused to cleaning my own wounds. “The SIU might be interested in more than you.”

 

   I sighed heavily and glared at her, “Why do you always have to be right?”

 

   “Because I am brilliant,” she said as if it was obvious. I rolled my eyes, then froze as I heard the tell tale tinkering of glass as something was broken. I stood up, even an idiot could tell something wasn’t right with that. Even Danny had noticed,

 

   “Someone’s in the kitchen,” he stated before speeding off like a real hero. He didn't look quite so heroic when he was thrown back through the plaster wall, landing in a pile of debris at Schultze’s feet, a dagger in his stomach, just missing his heart �" even though it wouldn’t kill it would hurt like the dickens.

 

   The vampire clutched the dagger and looked through the dust at the kitchen, sitting in fury, “Filthy mother-”

 

   “Shut up and get Schultze out!” The old woman was slowly getting to her feet and gave me an indignant look,

 

   “Young lady I can look after my-” she was interrupted when Danny grabbed her frail body and carried her bodily from the house, just as a huge fire exploded from the kitchen, the force and shock of it half knocked me across the room and shielding my eyes I watched as flames licked around the hole in the wall, catching the fabric of the chair I’d just been sat in. The kitchen was an inferno, through the flames and smoke I couldn't see anything, and the Centurion used that to his advantage.

 

   A second later a huge shape burst from the fires, thank god I had quick reactions or his foot would have gone right through my chest. As it was I tripped, and fell back into Schultze’s chair just as the giant of a man whipped past. The momentum of my fall made the chair tumble back and I rolled onto my feet as quick as I could, just in time to block a punch from the man.

 

    He was strong, I had trouble just blocking one punch, then his other fist swung round and I barely held that one at bay, my forearms shook with the effort. Quick as I could I brought my foot up and kicked him in the chest with as much force as I could, any other person would have gone flying, this big body of muscle simply staggered, jumped neatly over the fallen chair and stood easily on the other side, waiting.

 

   I finally saw the face of the murderer. Lit up by the roaring fire to his face was handsome, surprisingly so, in that cute boyish way, the type of face you’d see on an American drama. Well over six foot he was all muscle, in a tight black shirt and jeans, arms lined with scars, vivid violet eyes watching my every movement.

 

   “So. You’re the b*****d killing people. Nice to meet you,” he said nothing back, in the kitchen something exploded, the plaster wall cracked, the room was getting insufferably hot as flames licked across the floor, the chair I’d sat in just moments before was now a raging mass of fire. “If you thought the fire would intimidate me you’d be wrong. See,” I gave him a dark grin, the one people said gave them chills up their spine, “I’m a pyromaniac.”

 

   I leapt over the sofa, kicking off the back to give me momentum as I flew towards the man in a flurry of fists and kicks. He blocked each one so easily I had to remind myself not to get frustrated, that at some point there would be an opening.

 

   It was a long wait. We matched each other blow for blow, kick for kick, he blocked my hits, I blocked his. Sometimes I broke through his defences, but whilst mine did little damage the many punches that broke through my defences were painfully lethal. One hit to my ribs and I swore he broke them.

 

   At one point I had to resort to throwing figurines from the fireplace at him. He swatted them away and I leapt at him, seeing a gap and taking it as eagerly as a child snatches a present at Christmas.

 

   My foot cracked across his side, he jumped with it, grimacing and letting out a snarl, before he grabbed my ankle, spun me round in a full circle, lifting me completely off the ground, and then letting go. I was flung right back into the fireplace.

 

   I cracked against the marble, soot went flying and for a moment I saw stars, before I saw legs advancing. I pushed the pain to one side, it was just my body telling me I was battered, it would not stop me from fighting.

 

   I grabbed the stoker from the rack, and the small heavy shovel before jumping to my feet. The werewolf �" which I now recognised him to be �" paused, I snapped my teeth and spun my two makeshift weapons in my hands.

 

   “Come on handsome, give me your all,” fire ravaged the walls, the blistering heat was suffocating and I felt as if I were moving against water, my eyes streamed with tears as sweat dripped over my body. Even the Centurion wasn’t suffering so well in the fire.

 

   He roared and ran at me, this time I had the advantage, I slashed and stabbed, lame as it was I felt rejuvenated by the fire, the excitement of the fight. I could duck all his quick punches, dodge all his kicks and in return he had to retreat from my slashing and stabbing.

 

   And then I whacked him over the head with the shovel �" with my bad hand too -  he dropped to his knees, I was ready to bring it down again, just to make things worse, when his arm swiped my legs from under me. I crashed onto the floorboards, my shoulder had finally had enough, my hand was spent, the shovel slipped from useless fingers. Excitement �" gone. He wrapped strong crushing fingers around my throat and lifted me off my feet as I kicked and struggled. D****t, if it were a normal opponent he’d struggle to even get me on the floor but this guy was big, super strong and could chuck me around like nothing.

 

   Good thing I still had my trusted stoker, because I stabbed him, once in the armpit to weaken his hold and a second time in the stomach. My plan, for once, worked, because he did let go of me, except instead of dropping me he threw me. This time through another fire covered wall into the hallway. I felt a moments burning and heat before I was in the smoke filled corridor, somehow lying on top of the hall table, tangled in the telephone wire.

 

   Why couldn't Schultze get a cordless?

 

   Moments later the lumbering idiot stepped through the door and watched as I pathetically rolled off the table and looked for some sort of weapon. All I could find was an umbrella hanging on the pegs. And a thick coat. As the wolf strode forward I chucked it at him, it billowed over his face, giving me enough time to grab the thick mirror off the wall, a hideous ancient thing that looked like it had never been polished. I brought it down on his head just as he pulled the coat off.

 

   He staggered against the wall, blood dripping over his face, seven years bad luck for me, seven seconds bad concussion for him. Fair? I think not.

 

   What followed was like something from a Jackie Chan movie, not enough space in the narrow hall way to do those fancy kicks I so love but only punches and strikes, so quick even Jet Li would have trouble following.

 

   That was right until he struck me in the chest so hard I was flung back into the door, which shook on its hinges. I lost him for a moment in the smoke, so I did the most sensible thing I could think of in that moment. I opened the door.

 

   Just as a huge shape barrelled past, no doubt expecting me and a door to be there to stop it. The man had now changed into a wolf, and flew out of the house, over the steps and crashed into the middle of the street where worried neighbours had gathered, firemen and police man tried to keep them at bay. They all been shouting, they’d all been rushing to get hoses and control the crowd. And there wasn’t a person who didn't fall silent when they saw the wolf clamber back to his feet, and the battered and bloody me stumble down the steps,

 

   “S-stop that wolf!” I croaked, smoke had ruined my vocal chords, and I coughed painfully, trying to catch myself on the last step as the wolf, aware of the crowd, finally dove down another alley. I swore and pointed between the fleeing creature and the dumbstruck police, “Stop wolf! What? You no speak English? Stoppen Sie den wolf! Idiots.”

 

   Gathering my remaining energy I ran across the street, stopping at one particular policeman, he stood stock still as I shouted in German for his gun. Fumbling a little he finally gave it to me and I shot off after the wolf, following his clear trail. I’d get him.

 

   I coughed and hacked as I ran, spitting up black and grey stuff mixed into blood. Ribs creaked, compressing my lungs, blood dripped into my eyes and I couldn't feel one arm.

 

      I’d been more beat up than this. I was fine. I’d get him.

 

   I would have been more convinced if I could actually run in a straight line. Finally I broke from the dark alleys, coming to street almost empty from traffic but diners sat outside of posh restaurants, and they were much louder than I liked, pointing and screaming.

 

   “Don’t worry, I’m police,” I tried to reassure them in German, switching between that and English, English was a universal language nowadays, someone was bound to understand. Although, I realised, I would probably get into a lot of trouble for pretending to be police. “Ich bin polizei

 

   “He vent thatta vay,” a waiter pointed a shaky finger towards a street lamp lit bridge, I could just see a furry tail disappearing round the edge. I thanked the man and lumbered after the wolf. Someone should tip that guy, I thought distantly. Just the fifty yard run was a killer, I had to pretend I was back at army camp and there was a grisly angry man behind me shouting and spitting for me to carry on.

 

  ‘Girls should stick with make up and barbies’ echoed in my mind.

 

   I reached the bridge, I got halfway before I skidded to a halt, belatedly realising there was a wolf stood in my path, violet eyes watching and waiting, black claws scratched against the concrete, teeth glistened and worst of all he didn't have a damn scratch on him. Why didn't I have super fast healing? It was almost worth getting turned into a Were for! It would make my job so much easier.

 

   “Well hello there Scoobie, you gonna change back so we can talk?” he growled in response, a chilling sound. When had I ever seen a werewolf as big as him? He was huge. Not as big as the Wendigo though, that thought gave me a little more confidence.

 

   And then he pounced, I jumped to the side, breathing in and twisting, so that his teeth snapped at air instead of biting a chunk from my stomach. I landed precariously on the bridge wall, wobbling and waving my arms as I tried to get my balance. The wolf prowled in a semi circle around me. I glanced over my shoulder at the river beneath me, it looked like it had a strong current, recent rain had made it deeper.

 

   If the wolf was smart he’d lunge and try and knock me back. Well, whataya know, he’s smart, I thought wryly as the beast surged forward, all I saw were teeth, snapping for my throat. Even my amazing skills of balance couldn't keep me on the wall, although I was smart and grabbed a huge handful of thick fur and skin, and with more strength than I thought I had I yanked the wolf after me. He scrabbled on the wall as I hung over the water, only my hold on him kept me from falling.

 

   But he wasn’t a cat, he couldn't get his feet in the right place to get a secure enough hold on the wall, so for a moment his claws scraped on the concrete as he desperately tried not to over tip, and then he fell. We both did.

 

   I just managed to straighten my legs in time, making the impact a little easier; the wolf wasn’t as lucky and did a masterful belly flop. The cold water was a welcome relief, but unfortunately I wasn’t in the shape to swim, and the wolf wasn’t faring much better. They were almost pure muscle, which meant, unlike humans, they sunk instead of floating. The wolf was doggy paddling like hell but was going nowhere but down.

 

   Then he had the genius idea of shifting back to human. A blonde head attached to a very nice body �" why is always the bad guys? �" surged out of the water and in quick athletic strokes aimed for the stone walls of the bridge whilst I was swept away, I flailed to keep my head above the water, I was already choking on smoke and blood, I didn't want to add water to the list,

 

   “Hey! Wolf! Get over here! Help and I promise not to kill you!” okay, so not the best way to get help but something in my voice obviously caught his attention, hmm, maybe it was the layer of hypnotism I’d added to my voice. A little trick I’d learnt from Schultze, she was a master at hypnotism, I’d only used it once or twice, only in times of peril, and this was one of those moments.

 

   Except then I went under water, and swallowed a good few mouthfuls of disgusting river water. I didn't know if it had worked, but my body just wasn’t responding. I could only let the river carry me away.

 

   Okay, I conceded. I wasn’t fine. This was the closest I’d come to death since I’d actually died. I wasn’t going to get him.

 

   Sorry dad. My vision went black and unconsciousness ate me up like some deadly monster from the sea.

 

 

 

 

   I can’t really say I woke up, since I don’t sleep. I could count a million sheep and never, ever fall asleep without some sort of outside help �" a good beating, tranquilisers, alcohol: they worked.

 

   But coming out of unconsciousness was literally one minute you’re ‘dead’ to the world, the next you’re aware of every single detail, from the pains of a recent fight, the glaring sun in your eyes and the horrible stench of fish and wet dog.

 

   Groaning I rolled over out of the blinding sun, and immediately fell off whatever I’d been lying on. I smacked onto cold concrete and groaned again when pain tore through my body. “Damn, damn and double damn,”

 

   A movement at my side made me tense up and I jumped into a crouch, pinning Roman with a wary glare, “I tried to bind your injuries as best as I could. I did not have many resources.”

 

   Keeping an eye on him I sat back on the damp wooden box I’d been dumped on and checked my hand, the originally white bandage was a horrible murky green colour, as was the one on my shoulder, but lifting up my shirt revealed a mix of ripped shirts and jeans that wrapped tightly around my ribs.

 

   So, it seemed my hypnotism had worked. I looked back at the Centurion, there was something different about him, something lost and suspicious, he was crouched and hunched slightly, tense and ready to run, as if I were the dangerous one, not him. Gone was the cold calculated killer, to be replaced with someone who didn't seem to understand what was going on.

 

   “Who are you?” I asked, after taking a good look of our surroundings, we seemed to be in some sort of old riverside store house, fish guts and dried blood covered the floor under a production lines, telling me we hadn't strayed far from the river. “Who are you working for?”

 

   He rubbed his face and shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m Roman, they called me Roman… I’ve been in the dark for a long time,” the violet eyes took on a tortured look and he raised them to meet mine desperately, “What have I done?”

 

   I watched him carefully. He was unstable, and unstable in a werewolf was never good. But I felt a stirring of pity for the guy, “I am so sorry. Six years ago there were attacks, someone was killing psychics. That murderer disappeared for a while, but recently he’s come back. I’m sorry, Roman, but that murderer is you. Was you. When someone is emotionally unstable or traumatised they are susceptible to mind control, I think some one has been using you for the past few years, can you think back at all, suffering some sort of trauma?”

 

   He ran a shaking hand through his hair, standing up so quickly I thought I’d imagined him crouching, he paced around, “I don’t know! I don’t know. Yes, no, maybe… a few years ago I… I think I hurt someone. I worked for someone but she made me do something… made me do something I didn't like. I hurt the one person I loved. I think. That sounds right. It feels right. I stabbed her.”

 

    I watched him with growing concern, his shakes were growing, any moment now he’d lose control. I got to my feet and slowly approached him, talking softly, “That’s okay, Roman, you’re doing fine, don’t push it. Your memories will come back, alright? In their own time they will come back.”

 

   I stopped a metre in front of him, giving him what I hoped was my most reassuring smile and trying to look as unthreatening as possible. He nodded jerkily, taking deep breaths, his handsome face looked pinched and tight, violet eyes wild.

 

   “Sorry.”

 

   “It’s okay, Roman, it’s okay. My name is Aurora Jagger. Last night we tried to kill each other, but I think we can put that behind us �" right now I need your help okay?”

 

   “Okay,” he looked like he was relaxing, and I breathed a little easier,

 

   “Okay. I need to see how long you’ve been under the influence of this person, alright, it won’t hurt, I just need to poke around your head,” I almost winced, I could have phrased it a little nicer, but he just nodded, and cautiously I stepped closer, pressing my hands gently to the sides of his head, he watched me curiously, I stared intently into his eyes, “Relax. Let me in, Roman, don’t fight me again. Let me help, let me in.”

 

    The change when he heard my voice was immediate, his shoulders relaxed and his mouth fell open into a sigh, his expression cleared and blank looking eyes stared back into mine. It happened quickly, my consciousness flowed through his, prying gently into his mind, seeing and learning things about him I could have lived without knowing.

 

   A boy on a hot dusty street, wearing nothing but rags, captured and beaten, terrified, conscripted into the army so young that the helmet was loose on his head. How far he marched under the burning sun. An older boy, walking in the night to get water, attacked from behind, terrified, unable to fight as teeth ripped into his shoulder. Later, the fear as pain wracked his body, the feeling of loosing control under the pale full moon, the beast inside of him taking over.

 

   I skipped through, learning that Roman had been employed by the Fairies, to protect a girl, a half breed, Phoebe Evelyn Sullivan. I learnt how his feelings had grown from adoration to, not love, but devotion. Close to worship. Any other time it might have been stalkerish, paedophilic maybe, but Roman just wanted to protect her. Protect her from everything.

 

   But then he couldn't. Because she chose the Fairies, she chose the old King, and he had to betray her. I saw what he did to Phoebe. I saw it as if I were him. She looked up at him with hope and love, and he, with orders to maim her, plunged a dagger into her stomach. And watched as her love for him seeped away as fast as the blood poured through her fingers.

 

   That was the moment. That was his breaking point, as he grieved, he was taken over. After that it was nothing but blackness. Nothing but blackness until a voice broke it, a desperate, pleading voice, ‘Help and I promise not to kill you’. He’d woken up, and without thinking had plunged into the water after my flailing body.

 

   I pulled away sharply, fighting to catch my breath back. I hadn't meant to go so deep. I’d only wanted to confirm my suspicion that he’d been hypnotised. I’d been right, but what surprised me more was that the person had kept him so tightly controlled for almost ten years, which took a lot of power �" werewolves weren’t the easiest to control. I wondered if I should have been smug that I’d broken it so easily.

 

   I was uncomfortable when I noticed tear tracks making their way down Roman’s cheeks. The emotion in his eyes, the torn expression of his face was too much to look at, and I pulled away. But he grabbed me and held me against him, shivering slightly as he dropped his head against my shoulder, silent dry sobs racking his body.

 

   I stood there awkwardly, what could I do? In my mind I knew he was dangerous, and that he should go to the council and be tried for murder. But I also knew he wasn’t entirely responsible for his actions. And the man hugging me was just that: a man. A man who had lost everything.

 

   I patted his shoulder awkwardly, sighing inwardly. Great. Things couldn't really get worse. As always I spoke too soon.

 

   I heard the click of the gun before anything else. I whipped round sharply, pushing Roman behind me. My heart stopped as I looked across the cold concrete to see Oliver, Mal and Mason, watching us with cold scary expressions. Their game faces, Oliver looked how he did on a mission, and belatedly I realised that I was the mission �" the guns pointed straight at my heart gave clued me in.

 

   “I realise what this looks like but for once it’s not,” I said desperately, putting my hands up, I could see in their eyes that they were seriously considering shooting me.

 

   “This looks like you working with a serial killer, Jagger �" and since he was practically dry humping you I’m finding it hard to think otherwise,” Oliver grit out, eyes burning with hate as he glared at both me and the werewolf �" who was growling and trying to push me behind him.

 

   “Its really not like that �" Schultze didn't tell you? The two of us fought, I hypnotised him �" sorry Roman �" and he saved me from drowning and now-”

 

   “Oh shut up,” Mal drawled, “evidence points against you honey.” And to my horror and shock he pulled the trigger, there was a sharp pain in my chest and I looked down to see a black dart sticking out. Roman roared, catching me as I lost control of my legs, I gaped at my three ex-comrades,

 

   “What’d I do?” For the third time in less than two days I fell into unconsciousness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

    They took us to the local police station and locked us in the holding cells. The tranquiliser had warn off pretty quickly, a first for me, surprising almost everyone when I’d woken up in the armoured truck and quite lucidly announced they were all backstabbing b******s.

 

   I’d been in the cell for almost seven hours, only once had someone from my team come down to see me. Mason. He’d asked why I’d lied, why I would bother hunting my partner in crime,

 

   “Was it some sadistic game to you? Watching us struggle? Leading us on?” he’d spat through the bars. I’d long since given up protesting my innocence; they just weren’t buying it, I’d even told Roman to shut up, there was no point. Everyone was convinced I was the mastermind behind the murderers.

 

   “I want to talk to Goldstein. Or at least bring in Schultze, she’ll clear it all up,” I’d begged as calmly as possible, and he’d delivered the final blow. “Schultze was the one who told us who you were.”

 

   Seven hours later I was still trying to piece things together, still reeling from the betrayal. My teacher was setting me up for murder, why?

 

   “Aurora?” I looked up from where I was sprawled on the hard bench, Alice stood nervously at the bars, picking at her shirt and eyes looking everywhere but at me. There was someone stood behind her, a tall broad shouldered man in fine dark clothes and broad rimmed classic cowboy hat. I noticed that from the cell opposite Roman had sat up and was watching the stranger closely.

 

   “Hey Alice, please tell me you brought a classic cake with a file?” I stood up and hobbled towards her, pleased that she didn't edge away, her eyes softened,

 

   “I’m sorry,” I told her not to worry, asking who the stud was, she introduced him with a nervous cough, “Bran, my sister’s fiancé.” Roman stiffened and I didn't miss the dark look Bran gave the wolf.

 

    “I wish we had met under different circumstances, Miss Jagger. I’ve heard a lot about you,” the man said, he just oozed fairy goodness.

 

   “I wish I could say the same about you, handsome. What can I do for you?” because obviously this guy was here for something, to gloat maybe?

 

   “I’ve heard you can speak to the dead,” he got straight to the point and I blinked, rapidly as Alice continued in a quick hushed voice, “That's why I came onto the case, all the psychics that have been murdered are the ones that have the ability to contact the dead.”

 

   “Mediums,” I corrected, numbly, “Psychics who can contact the dead are called mediums. And I’m surprised I didn't catch that connection. Who do you want me to talk to?”

 

   “Evelyn,” Roman interjected and the two fairies pinned him with hard looks.

 

   “Since you killed her,” Bran spat, and I looked between them all, hit with the realisation that Evelyn was the Phoebe Sullivan that Roman had loved, and stabbed. I was miffed. That was almost ten years again, she would surely have moved on by now. Bran noticed my confusion and explained quickly, “almost a decade ago my Evelyn fought another fairy, Saibh, both of them �" died. However the queen of the council swore to revive her. Evelyn’s body is surely healed but her soul has not returned �" and time is running out.”

 

   I processed the jumbled patchy story as quickly as I could. Evelyn must have been pretty important if the queen was reviving her,

 

   “You have no idea. She’s my sister, and the queen, Éabha, chose her as the heir to the throne. The queen however is becoming more and more human as the months go on �" weakening the fairy race.”

 

   “We need Evelyn back �" only she can restore us or there will be chaos,” Bran added, just to make sure I understood. I did, kind of.

 

   “Evelyn needs to come back from the dead so that she can take the human-ified queen’s place and keep the fairies and their magic in check?” Alice nodded fervently and I chewed my lip. A trip to the Astral plain would cost me a lot, would it be worth it? “I’ll need something of hers, something to connect me with her or I won’t be able to find her.”

 

   Bran passed something through the bars, dropping a ten pence coin in my hand, I smiled softly, feeling the weight of it. “I can’t take tag alongs, I’m afraid, you know, the Astral Plain, VDP only.”

 

   “’VDP’?” Alice questioned as I sat back on the bench, rubbing the coin between my fingers. I gave her a crooked grin,

 

   “Very Dead People,” I shut my eyes, and for the first time in a long time I listened to the whispers, the darkness in the back of my mind that would carry me away to the peaceful world of death. The focus in my hand steered me to where I wanted to go, it was all a question of stopping the whispers before they took me too far.

 

   There was a reason there were few true mediums, why we rarely travelled to the other side �" because you had to have a wicked will power. Resisting the temptation was so difficult, like an addict who had been refused their heroin, once you got it letting it go again was nigh impossible.

 

   White mist filled my mind, fogged my senses and left me, not unsettled, but sleepy. But I kicked my brain into gear, shook my ghostly head and tried to see where I was. It was just a huge gaping expanse of white mist, you couldn't see the floor beyond two feet, and though there seemed to be no light to illuminate anything, everything seemed to glow, even my hands which left a misty trail in their wake. Above and around me the air felt heavy and dark, pitch black, with twinkling bright stars.

 

   It was the first time I’d been to the astral plain �" by choice�" and I had to say, beyond the serenity of it all I was freaked. I looked at the coin in my hand, then around me. Where was Evelyn?

 

   I called her name several times, my voice didn't even echo there was nothing for it to bounce off.

 

   “Why are you shouting? I’m right here,” I spun round, to see a girl, maybe only ten years old in a sweet white dress, butterscotch hair tied into a plait as she sat swinging gently on a swing. It was all very mysterious, very creepy. “Who are you? Who am I?”

 

   “I’m Aurora. And you are Phoebe Evelyn Sullivan,” she processed this and nodded thoughtfully, “That sounds right. Why are we here? I’ve been here a long time.”

 

   “Almost ten years,” I answered softly, going to lean against a leg of the swing, looking down at her, it was incredible, she could have been a living, breathing person if it weren’t for the fact I knew she was dead. “This is the in between. Limbo. The Astral Plain. The place where lost souls go when they are neither dead, nor alive.”

 

   “Am I stuck?” her voice wavered with fear,

 

   “Only if you think you are. You have two easy solutions, Phoebe, if you want to leave, and only one choice to make.” She waited patiently. I had no idea what I was doing, I couldn't force her to go back to her body, I couldn't think up a whip and march her there, all I knew was that when you were dead you had to make a choice. I had.

 

   I didn't seem that long ago I was standing in the white fog, wondering what the hell I was doing seemingly alive when I had just been sacrificed by a psychotic witch. Who knew how long I’d spent wandering around aimlessly, meeting other lost souls before I reached the conclusion that I didn't want to die. I woke up not long after in a makeshift coffin �" boy Rodney had been scared shitless when he heard me knocking on the wood asking to be let out. We decided after that it was better not to tell anyone I’d been dead for almost eight days �" it was almost unheard of, unless I’d turned into a zombie.

 

   “You can either move on, start another life, or you can go back to your old one. I have to say going back would be better. You have people who are waiting, people who love you very much �" a handsome man called Bran, a beautiful sister, a woman who wants to make you queen,” I kept my voice soft and tried not to be too pushy. “But if you don’t want that Phoebe all you have to do is let it go.”

 

   “Let it go. But I don’t know what I’m letting go of,” she sounded so lost it almost broke my heart. I crouched by her, trying to ignore the fact that I was finding it harder and harder to concentrate, that I wouldn’t be able to resist much longer, I pressed the coin into her hand,

 

   “You can either accept your death, or live for joys of living. Letting go is just letting go,” it wasn’t helpful, but I was trying to be as cryptic as possible so she would make the decision herself. I didn't like to meddle in death. I kissed her forehead and stepped away, giving her a grin, “Come find me if you come back. I’d sure like to know how you got a fiancé like Bran.”

 

   I disappeared, this time it was harder to get back, almost like fighting against the tide I got through it, but when I got back into my body I was exhausted. With a herculean effort I lifted my head up and opened my eyes, slightly disappointed to see I was still locked up, and the two fairies still peered at me from behind bars.

 

   “Aurora?” I blinked sluggishly and held out my hand, revealing the lack of coin.

 

   “She’ll either come back or she won’t, I can’t promise anything. She’s been there so long I don’t think she even knew who she was. If she comes back she’ll need a lot of TLC.”

 

   “Thank you,” Alice breathed, eyes watering, even Bran’s were suspiciously wet, “I… I wish I could do something for you here, but you’ve been requested to go to the Head Council, they’ll try you there.”

 

   “I’m afraid you’ve only an execution to look forward to,” Bran told Roman bluntly before looking at me a little sadly, “Probably for you too.”

 

   “Even if I’m not guilty?” I muttered rolling my eyes, “Jee, it sure sucks to be me atm.”

 

   They turned to leave when I told them to, not quite able to cope with holding a conversation, all I wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep. But  that was never going to happen. I watched their retreating backs I called out to confirm something, “Hey. Without a queen the fairies are screwed, right?”

 

  Bran’s lips twitched into a smile, “Right, you could say that.”

 

   I nodded and he left. The puzzle began to make sense, Roman asked what was wrong but I was too tired to say anything, simply shut my eyes and tried to sleep, to doze at least and recuperate until I felt even marginally human again. If that was possible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two hours later I finally got my wish. I’d begged earlier to see Schultze, and finally she had come down to see me. Lucky me. By that time I’d pretty much put the pieces together. The old woman looked at me through the bars, sitting on my bench I stared back at the wrinkled cold old face.

 

   She sneered slightly, lighting a cigarette like Cruella DeVil, “I suppose you have questions.”

 

   “Not really. I think I’ve figured it out,” I drawled right back, Roman watched our interaction with interest, “You killed the psychics. Or rather you got Roman here to kill them. All because you didn't want the lost Evelyn to return �" you knew that she was the heir to the Court of the Sky, and that if she never returned from Limbo the fairies would be powerless. You still blame the fairies for your children’s death?”

 

   Her expression darkened, “You always were my brightest student. Too bright, actually �" almost like your father,” she saw my blank expression, “Oh, you did not know? I was his teacher too �" almost twenty years ago. A pathetic man, now I think about it. I had such hopes for him, he would have been brilliant! He would have helped me achieve everything! Together we could have brought down the fairies, we wouldn’t have had to worry about the elves �" they never meddle on earth �" and we could have ruined the vampires and the animals.

 

   And then he met that tramp of a w***e. Your mother, a useless psychic if ever I saw one �" she could not even read tea leaves! But your father left me, left our world, for what? A quiet family life? Pah! All my students are such disappointments, you, Goldstein, your father, that Rodney. You never see how much power you can truly have!”

 

   “Are you going to wrap this monologue up anytime soon?” I yawned, standing up and pacing leisurely, “Only I think my ears are starting to bleed.”

 

   “Ha, you are so rude. Impertinent girl. I found the werewolf guardian vulnerable and in pain. I took him and made him mine �" and he killed for me. He would keep his lost love lost. Then your father became a clapper and began hunting him, he got too close to the truth,” Schultze sniffed and waved her cigarette, smoke billowed around her face, making her even more hideous, “So I had him killed. Too bad you and your brother were not caught in the blaze - it would have saved me so much trouble.

 

   Then you came to me and I thought I could make you mine. That didn't work. I watched you, you know. I hate to admit it but you are strong. Too strong. I had to try and have my men take you �" oh that’s right, girl, I own SIU, I control their information. I’ve expanded from Werewolves. Humans are so much more malleable, and gullible. I say you are dangerous, and you are dangerous. But they failed. If you want something done you have to do it yourself, no? It was simple work making your comrades believe it is you, not me who is guilty. A few nagging suspicions here, a distrustful thought there and voila. They do not like you, nor trust you.”

 

   “Yay, go you, if you’re expecting ‘World’s Best Villain’ prize I’m still waiting for the evil cackle, anything that can top Queen Narissa’s and you’re in.” I was just biding my time, I’d get out and I’d clear the whole thing up. Roman was stood by his cell door, I slowly strolled towards Schultze, “You want me gone, I can understand that. But you’ll have to testify, how do you plan on beating the truth seekers of the council? How do you expect to make them believe I did something when they’ll see otherwise that I didn't? How do you expect me to stay silent?”

 

   “Oh, I might have said you were strong, but I am still stronger,” she smirked at me, “You and I, we’re quite similar you know.”

 

   I told her that I truly doubted it right before my hand struck through the bars fast as a snake, my fingers grabbed a wad of her puce cardigan and I yanked her forward, right into my head which I’d stuck through the bars. It barely hurt me but her nose crunched on impact.

 

   I dropped the shrieking woman and pushed my cell door open, she was right, humans were malleable, a human policeman had come down not an hour ago to give us some cold gruel and I’d persuaded him into lending me the keys, I’d unlocked both Roman’s and my door before giving the keys back and pretending everything was normal. I walked towards a desk and passed Roman a clean jacket from a peg, the police guard hadn’t come down since and conveniently left both his wallet and his car keys on his desk. Unfortunately he didn't have a gun. I turned back to my mentor. Blood dripped over her face, flowing from a cut in her nose which she clutched as she desperately tried to shuffle away.

 

   I stood over her, “You and I? We’re not similar. One, I’m young and beautiful, you, for lack of a better word, are not. Two, I’m not incontinent nor do I wear dentures, three, and this is a biggie, I still retain a larger part of my sanity and don’t want to take over the world with some bogus organisation with ridiculous names like CCDDC.”

 

   I grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet, reaching impersonally into the back of her skirt where she’d tucked away a small revolver, a quick check told me it was loaded. I looked to Roman, “Ready to go?”

 

   He nodded and together we headed out of the holding cells, him at my back, me clutching a sobbing Schultze �" a gun to her head. The police were pretty shocked to see us. And I was a little surprised to see Mal, Mason and Goldstein still hanging around. They all moved pretty quickly, reaching for guns and having them out and pointed at the three of us in almost the blink of an eye. I motioned to Rom where the exit was, making sure to keep Schultze in front of me I turned so we could reverse towards it, all the while yelling that if they shot I’d shoot her.

 

   Goldstein and the two tigers made a move to step forward, I pressed the barrel of the gun to the psychic’s temple, we were a few desks and a door away from the exit, if we moved fast we could probably make it.

 

    “Shoot her!” Schultze screamed, deafening me and shocking almost all of the police, “Shoot her! She would not shoot me,”

 

   “Schultze just be quiet,” Goldstein snapped to his teacher, before he looked at me, “Jagger, what are you doing?”

 

   “Going to prove my innocence. I thought I’d be better off doing it the hard way since none of my comrades trust me,”

 

   “We did trust you �" until you turned into the murderer,” Mal retorted,

 

   “Just put the gun down, Jagger, we can talk about this, okay? I promise to listen with an open mind,” Mason tried to negotiate, Rom and I were nearly at the door, we paused, noticing that the exit was maybe a little too obvious, a glance to the left reveal an office with a large window, a window that opened out to a car park.

 

   “That's very considerate of you, but at the moment the only person I can trust is me �" and strangely enough Rom, so I’m going to leave,”

 

   “I cannot let you leave,” Goldstein growled, I spun Schultze a little so she was protecting me from both the police who had circled round and from Goldstein’s steady handgun.

 

    “Just shoot the f*****g girl! She won’t shoot me,” Schultze yelled, I honestly didn't know where she got her confidence from,

 

   “Oh, I won’t, will I?” I drawled, and very calmly I lowered the gun, sighed, “Well, nowhere important at least,” and I shot her in the foot. Rom and I were leaping out the window before she had even started screaming. Soon as I’d pulled the trigger he’d grabbed me with inhuman speed, jumped through glass and sprinted through the car park until I found the car to go with the key I’d pinched.

 

   It was a grey original mini, one wing mirror strapped on with sticky tape, you’d think that was some kind of offence of something. Rom piled himself into the passenger seat, his tall frame scrunched up uncomfortably and I leapt into the drivers, jamming the key into the ignition and trying to get the car started as police officers poured out the building.

 

   “Go. Go. Go!” Roman yelled as a few officers aimed guns towards us,

 

   “Ya think?” I shouted back, jolting the car into reverse and in a screech of tires and ringing shots I weaved through cars and out into the street, several pedestrians had to leap out the way. Not the fastest or best getaway car but it would suffice.

 

   By the time the police found it, near a small bus stop on the edge of the city, Aurora Jagger and Roman the werewolf were already on their way to France, aiming for the Channel Tunnel.

 

   For the police of Berlin it was a huge embarrassment, for Schultze it was a trip to the hospital and several painkillers �" for her and her doctors �" and for Aurora it was home, and hopefully a chance to prove her innocence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

   I had no plan. I was on the run from Clappers and the SIU, with an amnesiac depressed werewolf �"also a convicted murderer �" and to top it all off I couldn't use one of my arms. Somewhere between evading the police on the German border and getting to Paris my arm had died.

 

   I was now a one armed clapper. It sounded like some sort of joke. It was a joke.

 

   I was exaggerating, of course. I still had feeling in my arm, but I could neither straighten my arm, nor completely bend it, and my fingers hurt to move, so really, in effect, it was a useless lump of flesh.

 

   Roman and I had hopped on the Eurostar in Paris, heading for my home country, I looked like someone had chucked purple paint all over me, with bruises and cuts on almost every bit of visible skin. The other passengers around our little two person table were staring at the mottled purple and black bruise on my neck.

 

   Roman had done that, he’d tried to choke me to death only a few days ago, and now he was sat opposite me, drinking beer and staring out the window into the blackness of the tunnel.

 

   I was probably crazy for keeping him around; he had after all killed quite a few people. And yet when I looked at him I didn't see a murderer, I didn't see the monster who had killed my father. He was just Roman, a thoughtful guy with a killer smile.

 

   And neither of us had actually spoken about separating, it was an unspoken partnership. He had my back and I had his.

 

   I was guessing that I was now some sort of top priority job; all the available Clappers would be after me, as well as SIU and police. I stared at my reflection in the black window, if they had photos of me I wouldn’t be as recognizable, my signature white and blue hair had been replaced with a shiny chocolate colour and I’d cut it to a sort of pixie cut, though it quiffed at the front. I hadn't thought the shorter style would suit my round jaw and sturdy neck but I looked surprisingly chic.

 

   In some black faded jeans, some flimsy leather plimsolls and a black high neck top I looked a little more stylish than my friends would be used to, I even had a pair of black sunglasses that were so big they practically hid half my face.

 

   And Roman was Roman. He’d dyed his sun streaked blonde hair black and that was about all he could do, with his startling eyes and towering muscular body he would always stand out of the crowd.

 

   I noticed one particular man staring at us, not in a ‘oh my god she’s hot’ kind of way, more a ‘oh my god she looks suspicious’ kind of way. I looked round and met his eyes, letting my power creep through at the contact. Immediately he looked away and picked up the newspaper, suddenly interested in the football scores even though he couldn’t read French.

 

   “Ugh. I hate that,” I muttered, slumping in the big first class chair �" hey, if you’re going to trick someone into giving you their tickets you may as well make sure they’re first class.

 

   “What?” Roman looked at me, and I noticed that when he looked at you he really focused on you, like as soon as you spoke you were the most important thing in the world. He really hung onto your every word. We’d spent the last four days together, a hectic few days travelling and avoiding police and I’d been the one to do most of the talking, all because he listened.

 

   “Mind control, it’s not nice. I hate it, it’s so easy to make someone do something,” I almost forgot who I was talking to, like Roman didn't know just how easy it was. “Sorry. But it’s true, it’s useful now, I guess, whilst we’re on the run, but you just realise how easy it would be to take advantage of it.”

 

   “Not all Sensitives can control the mind though,” Roman pointed out, I laughed,

 

   “Thank god. We’d have loads of mini Schultzes on the loose �" it’d be hell,” I drummed my working fingers on the table, the problem with mind control, for me (other than my morals) was that it was exhausting. I so rarely used it and was unused to the effort it took, for someone who couldn't sleep being exhausted was not a good thing; it made me sluggish and slow.

 

   We sat in companionable silence for a little while, then Roman pinned me with those bright eyes of his and asked quite seriously: “Aurora? Why are you still with me?”

 

   “The question is: why are you still with me?” I shot back, grinning, “Truth is Roman you’re free from Schultze, free to go wherever you want to go, and you haven’t. So why are you still with me?”

 

   He ignored my question, trying to push his point, whatever it was, “You know who I am, you know what I’ve done, you could have just left me in Berlin with the police, but you didn't. Why? You should hate me.”

 

   I met his eyes and for a second glimpsed the heavy guilt he was feeling, the turmoil within him. I softened, “Roman you were under the control of a psychotic psychic, the person who killed all those people, he wasn’t you. If you want my honest opinion you’re a better person than I am �" than any Clapper is.”

 

   The werewolf gave me a quizzical look, scepticism in his eyes, I looked at my hands and picked my words carefully, “Clappers we chose this, we chose to be murderers. We even take money for it. You? You had no choice, Roman, you had no say in the matter. Us? We had the choice, and we always say ‘yes, I’ll kill it for you’. And for most of us killing is a sport, it’s fun. Sometimes it’s even a game. Ninety percent of the time we don’t even feel remorse for the people we’ve killed. That’s why, Roman, I can sit with you and have a conversation with you, because you’re not the murderer here, I am.”

 

   We were silent, both looking out the window as the tunnel disappeared to be replaced with green fields and a blue, cloudless sky. “Aurora-”

 

   “You don’t have to try and comfort me, Rom,” I interrupted softly, leaning back and shutting my eyes, “I’ve accepted who I am �" you should too. We’ve got another hour, try and get some rest, I have a feeling things’ll be just as difficult over here.”

 

  

 

 

 

   Turned out I was right. As we all pooled off the train onto the platform the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, but looking around I could see nothing suspicious. Roman stuck close as we pushed our way through the slow crowd, weaving through the oblivious holiday makers as they stood like obtuse statues on the escalator, suitcases making it an obstacle course.

 

   “Aurora we’re being watched,” Roman said five minutes later as we headed through St Pancreas towards the Underground entrance. The werewolf had gradually gotten so close his heat was burning my back, his breath catching the back of neck. It was very distracting, so I had a hard time trying to understand what he’d said. Then I finally twigged and glanced casually over my shoulder, seeing two guys following us from a safe distance, trying not to be too obvious about the fact they were stalking us.

 

   I guessed they were SIU, not Sensitives so not Clappers �" which was a relief, I didn't have the energy to deal with a Clapper. No offence to the SIU guys, they were tough opponents, but Clappers were decidedly more tricky to shake off.

 

   “Soon as we get down these stairs we’re running,” I muttered to Roman, resigned to the fact I would probably never have a moments peace ever again. We pushed down the stairs against the swarm of people, as soon as our feet touched the ground we were off, sprinting through the tunnel, dodging startled bystanders. Looking over my shoulder I saw the two men had been joined by two more, and they were running flat out after us, handguns out as they yelled for people to move out the way.

 

   “Sorry!” I yelled to an elderly couple when I accidentally knocked them, swear words and curses trailed after me �" luckily no one tried to be hero and stop me as I sprinted after Roman. He was like a rhino, charging through the crowd leaving destruction in his wake �" also clearing a path for me.

 

   The werewolf pushed the ticket guard to the side, making room for me to vault over the ticket machine and head towards the steep escalators. They were packed and I almost wanted to scream about how ridiculously busy it was �" did people not know how important I was?

 

   I gave up trying to push my way down and jumped into the centre onto the slippery metal surface, there were shocked yells and screams as I slid down the centre, just like standing on a giant slide.

 

   If you crouched like a surf boarder, I learnt pretty quickly, you could actually pick up a lot of speed. Open mouthed, wide eyed faces all became one big blur as I sped down.

 

   There were more startled screams and a shadow flew over my head, skimming along the curved ceiling. I watched as Roman, still human, soared threw the air like superman, and landed easily on his hands, rolling on impact and jumping to his feet.

 

   He caught me as I was propelled off the giant metal slide, knocking the breath from me and despite his size he stumbled a little, complaining about how much I weighed,

 

   “Way to a girl’s heart, Roman,” I wheezed, trying to catch my breath, but he gave me little time to recover and propelled me to a smaller tunnel, we were separated in the rush to get onto the newly arrived train, and crammed through in opposite doors.

 

   “Hurry up, hurry up,” I breathed, watching as three disgruntled men skidded to a stop on the platform, they saw my head peeping over the tops of the crowd and rushed forward, just as the doors closed. I finally breathed a sigh of relief, looking down the carriage to see Roman, beaming in triumph. It wasn’t over though, they’d be prepared at the next station.

 

   I looked pointedly at the emergency stop by Roman and after a brief hesitation he reached over and yanked on it. Brakes squealed deafeningly and if I hadn't of clung to a metal bar I’d have been jerked off my feet like the rest of the undergrounders. As the train fought to stop Roman barged through the terrified mass to my side and together we struggled to get the doors opened, by the time the train had come to a full stop they were open, and we hopped off,

 

   “I’ve always wanted to do that!” Roman yelled as we started forward, only to leap back from the tracks as another train thundered by, whipping up dust and stinging my eyes, Roman, ever the gentleman, attempted to shield me from it, and when the noisy beast of a machine had passed he let me cross the tracks first.

 

   Together we jogged along the dark tunnel, staying clear of the tracks, luckily it wasn’t that long until we reached the light of a platform �" for an awful moment I thought we would be crushed by another train, but we were safely off the tracks and walking as casually as we could across the platform when the next train pulled up.

 

   Outside the air had cooled a little, and rain spattered pathetically, not quite a drizzle, not quite a down pour. We stood on the street, watching the traffic, the throngs of people, totally oblivious to our relieved whoops of laughter.

 

   “That was my first time on the London Underground,” Roman informed me as I tried to get my breathing under control, my heart was beating so fast I almost couldn't tell the beats apart. I gave him a droll look, and he grinned back, this time I was sure my heart had stopped altogether, my stomach fluttered, full of nervous butterflies.

 

   I swallowed the feeling, refusing to act like an awkward teenager, “Well.” I coughed and began walking away, saying as casually as I could over my shoulder, “It could have been worse.”

 

   I could laugh and joke with the guy but I drew the line with growing a childish crush on him. The line, though, got a little patchy when he smiled like that. A smile just for me.

 

   I groaned inwardly, just a stupid crush.

 

 

 

 

 

   “I still don’t understand why we’re here!” Roman shouted in my ear, trying to be heard over the heavy rock that thundered from speakers. I’d practically had to drag Roman to the club, and now he stood in a black shirt and jeans, hair tousled and a sulky expression on his face.

 

   “I told you, I’m meeting a contact here!” I called back, bouncing slightly to the pounding of drums. It sounded like Nickelback. Good taste. It was a classy club, not full of unwashed long haired studded Ozzy Osbourne look alikes, but women in sheek dresses and men in tailored shirts and polished shoes. Even I had had to don a dress to fit in, it was dark purple, with one thick shoulder strap that hid the bullet wound on my shoulder, the bodice was so tight it had taken me almost ten minutes to squeeze into; I was practically suffocating where I stood, and I was showing way more leg than I was used to.

 

   “You didn't tell me that! You just chucked me some clothes and said ‘come on’!” he sounded so indignant I gave him an apologetic look,

 

   “I was distracted,” it was a feeble excuse and he shook his head, exasperated, taking a long swig of his beer. He was just annoyed because he wanted to see the end of some film that he’d been on TV; since the film was about giant prehistoric sharks eating boats I didn't think it was that important. “I thought it would be a nice night out, just to relax, but if you’d rather do it at back at the lodge you’re more than welcome to go, I’ll wait.”

 

   “Who’s the contact?” Roman asked after another sulky minute and I relaxed, I hadn't realised it but I actually didn't like him being mardy, I wanted him to have fun. God knows we needed it, after the chase earlier in the Tube we’d been tense and uptight, jumping every time someone reached into their pocket or looked our way. We’d booked a small room in a dinky Travel Lodge and tried to make some semblance of a plan. I think run away to Mexico even came up at one point.

 

   “A back alley weapon’s dealer,” I answered off handedly and he choked on his beer, “He owes me a favour, I got his cousin out of a jam once.”

 

   “Is is his job even legal?”

 

   I gave the werewolf an odd look, “Does it matter?” I was distracted by something over his shoulder, several women staring at Roman hungrily, the fact that the women were stunning and Roman had more than once glanced their way irked me more than it should have.

 

   One woman broke off from her pack of b*****s, and tossing her advert worthy blonde hair she strutted over to where we stood at the edge of the dance floor, in a hugging red dress that barely covered her arse and a jaw dropping bust she made me feel like an ogre.

 

   “Hello gorgeous,” she purred when she reached Roman’s elbow, barely sparing me a glance, dismissing me almost immediately. I grit my teeth, telling myself I only wanted to punch her because her teeth were too straight, and not because she’d put her hand on Roman’s arm.

 

   “Hi,” Roman looked down at her, eyes roving over her symmetrical perfect face, her red pouting lips and down, beyond her neck. He was such a guy.

 

   “You look a little lonely, handsome, how about a dance?” Or we can skip through that right on to my bed, I thought darkly. I glugged down the last of my WooWoo, a brilliant blend of vodka and berries, and butted in before Roman could even dare open his mouth to respond,

 

   “Sorry, chica, he’s not that lonely �" or desperate,” I smiled as charmingly as possible as her own smile became a little wooden, Roman looked between us in amusement, I took his hand and stood on his toes,

 

   “Ow- yeah sorry, but I’m good,” he draped his arm along my shoulders and I tried not to smirk at the girls sour look, then she batted her eyelashes, gave Rom a flirtatious look and stroked his arm,

 

   “You know where I am when you get bored,” she whispered huskily and slunk away, waggling her bottom like a goose, I resisted the urge to throw the ash tray at her.

 

   “I’ve never had two girls fight over me before,” Rom stated thoughtfully,

 

   “That wasn’t fighting,” I muttered darkly, watching as the women tittered and sniggered in between looking at me, “but next time she comes over I’ll be more than happy to show you what is.”

 

   “Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” he teased, squeezing my shoulder, I gave him a sour look,

 

   “No. Let’s dance,” I put his beer down and dragged him from his seat to the dance floor, refusing to rise to the giggles of the s***s. Towing the werewolf behind me I pushed through the dancers to the centre before I turned and looked at him, he was grinning from ear to ear,

 

   “You are jealous,” he laughed and I scowled,

 

   “Am not,” he gave me a look, the type of look you’d give a petulant, sulking child when you knew they were being silly. I huffed but couldn't stop the grin that twitched at my lips, I rolled my eyes when he laughed again, a loud rich bark of laughter, “Shut up,”

 

   At that point the fast paced rock song had ended and a slower song came on. For a moment I stood there like a lemming, wondering why the hell I had chosen to dance when I was a useless dancer. But Roman wasn’t, and he pulled me into his arms easily, holding me loosely, giving me all the space I needed, he even made his hold on my hips light and proper.

 

   We swayed together, and eventually I relaxed against him, holding his shoulders and resting my head in the nook under his chin, he was so tall he made me feel short.

 

   Swell time to feel like the vulnerable teenager I tried not to be, I thought darkly, the butterflies had returned, as girlish self conscious thoughts raced through my mind, like ‘should I be moving my feet?’ ‘What if he’s bored?’ and ‘His hands are really close to my butt!’

 

   “You have nothing to be jealous of, Aurora, tonight there is only you,” the romantic murmured in my ear and I pulled my head back to look at him, I was distracted by how close his lips were to mine, just a meagre two inches of space, so easy to close. I could have sworn the air around us crackled with the electricity, or maybe I was becoming the romantic.

 

   I turned my head away before I could do anything stupid, like kiss him, and noticed someone standing at our abandoned table. “He’s here,” I cut our dance short, breaking from his warm embrace and crossing over to the table.

 

   Willy the Plonker as he was known on the street was a tall gangly man in his forties, with a head of brown hair that stood up on end, a geeky sort of face and a suit from the sixties, patterned like a love shack’s curtains. If you saw him on the street you’d think geek, not weapon’s dealer. I knew he sold munitions to Italian Mafia and even Chinese Triads, maybe more.

 

   He smiled with delight as I came over, “Aurora! Jolly good to see you doll, what's it like being on my side of the law?”

 

   I gave him a rueful look, “News travels fast.”

 

   “Doll you’re the most famous face in Europe! Everyone’s after you �" if I didn't like you I’d have handed you in by now.” Roman growled and Willy laughed, waving a hand, “Calm down, you’re safe! I haven’t told anyone!”

 

   “Thanks, Willy �" how’s Tim holding out? Keeping out of trouble?” I hit Roman’s chest to stop him from glaring at the man. he huffed and back down a little.

 

   “He’s good, just fine, after that escapade in Newcastle he’s decided to give up his life of crime and get a degree. In business,” Willy sounded mighty proud of his cousin but I was guessing Tim would be back to his old wicked ways quite soon. Willy clapped his hands briskly, “Now’s a fine time to talk business. I got you everything on the list �" what are you planning for, War of the Worlds?”

 

   “Precaution,” was my automatic response, used to the question. I couldn't help liking my guns and knives, I asked for a lot because I could never pick which one I liked the most. “Where’ve you hidden it?”

 

   “Patience grasshopper,” he smiled, handing me a set of keys, “You’re car, mademoiselle, Jeep Wrangler, 3.8 litre V6 �" a step up from your 4.0 litre �" not as powerful but a little greener. Everything you need is in there, satnav, lamps, heat detectors, night vision cameras etcetera, it’s parked in a nice secluded spot in Battersea �" no one would expect a trunk load of weapons near a block of flats for retirees.”

 

   “You are a lifesaver, Willy,” I kissed his cheek and he shrugged, attempting to be cool and offhand but I saw the childish delight he felt at being praised.

 

   “Whereto next, doll? Things must be getting tough by now �" word on the street is that there’s a huge hearing for the Supernaturals going down in Bucharest.”

 

   Roman and I snapped to attention, all supernaturals knew there was a Grand Council in Romania �" not a generic high council like the ones you found in almost every major city, but a grand council �" poshest of the posh., “Yeah? And how’d you hear about that?”

 

   “I’ve got ears for listening,” he tapped said ears with a sly look; “Apparently Asher and he merry band of vampires are going. You’ve caused quite the stir, Aurora,” Willy sounded delighted, I grimaced, unable to quite see what there was to smile about.

 

   “Aurora, is that a Clapper?” Roman asked me in a low voice, I followed his eyes over the dance floor where someone stood, solitary and statue like. In the dim light I could just see what he looked like, a lean man, with a composed face, nothing extraordinary about him except for the scary white eyes. Completely white, no pupils or anything.

 

   As if he could sense my eyes on him his face turned slightly and with those creepy eyes he looked directly at me. I shivered, and a dangerous scary grin spread across his face.

 

   “We need to leave. Like now. Right now, we need to go,” for the first time in a while I felt true fear, I hadn't even felt this scared when I’d fought Roman.

 

   Concern layered Roman’s voice as he sensed my turn of emotion, “Who is he?”

 

   “Trouble,” I managed to grit out, shoving the keys in his pocket since I had none I then turned to Willy, “We gotta split. I suggest you don’t leave alone tonight just in case.”

 

   “I think I can arrange that,” he drawled, looking towards a lone woman. I slapped him on the shoulder and with Roman on my heels I turned and headed for the bathrooms, aiming for the back exit I knew was there.

 

   “Who is he, Aurora?” Roman demanded in a hard voice, looking over his shoulder every so often, there was no point, the man was gone.

 

   “A Clapper, one of the worst �" I mean, I’m good but he, he is brilliant. Terrifying but brilliant,” the further we went down the corridor the quieter the music got until we reached the fire exit, then it was almost silent. I stopped a metre away from it, “Alastair Franklin, aka the Shadow. You know when I was saying we Clappers consider this a game? Well, he’s at the very top, two hundred and sixty five kills.”

 

   “Jesus, you count them?” he breathed, probably thinking we were warped and twisted and that he was mad for hanging out with me.

 

   “How can we forget?” I shot back quietly, I wasn’t at the top, no way near, and I was probably one of the only Clappers who considered that a good thing. I stalked towards the door and gently pressed my ear to the door, listening for anything, with my powers I could sense nothing, and that was what made Alastair so good. He was untraceable, invisible, the type of person you don’t notice until they shove a knife between your ribs.

 

   So I was pretty lucky when the sword was shoved through the metal door, a centimetre from slicing my nose off. It happened so fast I almost couldn't register what had happened until I was staring at my own confused eyes reflected in the shining silver blade.

 

   Roman yelled and dragged me back from the door, checking me for injury, I was fine, just very, very shaken. He could have killed me, I knew he could have killed me. He missed on purpose. He was playing with me.

 

   The sword slid silently back out the door and I shook my head, fear replaced with anger �" no one toyed with Aurora Jagger and got away with it. Ignoring Roman’s silent protest, I motioned for him to go round the front. After a brief hesitation he did and I stared at the door, no, I glared at it. I stepped close to the door, reaching for the handle.

 

   This time when the sword shot through I was ready for it. Silver spiked through the door, ripping through cleanly, and if I hadn't moved it would have gone straight through my neck. I’d moved to the side just in time, and with the side of my forearm I pushed hard of the flat of the blade, jamming it to the side, if he tried to pull it back I didn't know, I’d opened the door, flung it open and swung round it so fast, my feet off the ground, that for the first time the Shadow was caught off guard, and my fist cracked into his jaw.

 

   He stumbled back and I landed on the concrete, wondering how the hell I was going to fight him when I was wearing high heels. Alastair wiped blood from his mouth and backed away, his sword sticking out the door.

 

   “Should I be honoured they sent you?” I asked, neither of us moved. The white eyes were deceptive; he knew exactly where I was, would be able to ‘see’ my every move.

 

   “Extremely, just as I am honoured they chose me for this job. I’ve never hunted a fellow Clapper before �" it’s very exciting,” his smile was scary, evil and not quite right. Almost perverse, “I’ve heard you’re a prodigy, one of the best.”

 

   “I’m also innocent,” I pointed out uselessly, he brushed it off with a small shrug,

 

   “I don’t care what you did �" I just wanted to see if you’re as good as they say,” and with that he leapt forward, I feinted to the side, as if to dodge him and he followed, just as I dodged around him and spun round, my foot kicking him in between the shoulder blades. He stumbled forward and I bounced on my feet, trying to keep my balance, funny but I probably pulled a muscle in my thigh pulling that move.

 

   He turned slowly, rolling his shoulders, a thoughtful and almost admiring expression on his face, “You’re faster than I anticipated. Point to you.”

 

   I didn't respond, for once I couldn't get distracted, he’d almost caught me when I feinted. I couldn't try that trick again, and even though I’d got a hit in I felt the match had barely even tipped in my favour. It really didn't help my hand was still acting up.

 

   He shook his hands and two blades appeared from his sleeves. I swore under my breath, the balance completely changed, like putting an elephant on a see-saw with a chicken. I was completely out of my depth.

 

   Alastair sensed my unease and darted forward, blades flashing. I tried hard to block them, but with one arm sluggish and stiff I was at a complete disadvantage, it was lucky I was fast, my speed allowing me to duck the strikes I couldn't block.

 

   I blocked one of his strikes, running on adrenalin; my injured arm shook from the effort, and then caught his other wrist as it darted for my unprotected side. I twisted his wrist round sharply, almost snapping it and he grunted, unable to hold the knife he let it clatter to the floor. He brought his foot up and kicked me in the stomach; I rolled with it, rebounded off the alley wall and flew right back at him before he could pick the knife back up.

 

   I took him off guard with a flurry of sharp jabs and spinning kicks, one such kick to the chest made him fly back, making him crash into the metal door. I started forward, just as he pulled the sword loose, there was a flash of silver and I almost broke my back bending backwards as the blade swished through the air above the curve of my throat.

 

   I straightened and before he could swing the weapon back round I stepped into his body, blocking his strike with my body and elbowed him in the neck. I didn't give him time to recover from the blow and grabbing his sword arm I flipped him over my hip. He smacked heavily onto the concrete, just as there was a noise behind me.

 

   A chilling growl that sent chills up my spine but I dared not look round in case Alastair tried something sneaky.

 

   A furry shape flew past and Alastair could only watch as a huge walf dived towards him. With a gracefulness I hadn't expected from a creature his size Roman landed daintily on Alastair’s sword arm, I barely heard the crack of the bone over the Clapper’s scream. Roman had broken his arm. Now we were equal. Sort of. At least I could still make a fist.

 

   The wolf danced away after sweeping the sword away and stalked from left to right as Alastair pushed to his feet, sweat dripped down his green tinged face, his white eyes shot between me and the snarling wolf, “how smart. Two against one �" do you have no honour?”

 

   “Do you?” I shot back and he bowed his head, taking the hit. I began pacing, as did Roman, and together we waited for the opportune moment, the point when Alastair would have a gap in his defence. Waited. Watched.

 

   “You’re at the advantage now. Would you not even give me a fair fight?” of the three of us I think Roman had the most honour, he looked past Alastair at me, the old soldier inside of him warring with the ‘get it over quick’ part of him. Roman sat down.

 

   “No knives,” I pointed to the blade in his hand and after a warning growl from Roman Alastair dropped it, kicking it the wolf, and then he bowed,

 

   “Madam,” I returned his bow warily and then we circled. We’d already established I was faster, and we seemed on par in skill, but he had a little more strength than I did. My point was proven when he got a hit in, and I hit the floor like a sack of flour. It was like all the strength from his broken arm had been transferred to his remaining one.

 

   Roman growled. Yeah, like a hit would hurt me, I snorted at his concern, stuck my feet between Alastair’s legs and knocked them apart, I could have been really mean and snapped his kneecap �" and he knew that. I rolled to my hands and pushed off before he could kick me, as I flipped through the air my foot grazed across his cheek, the heel of my shoes left a shallow bloody cut and I landed on my feet again.

 

   I made a mistake, thinking he was distracted from the blow I lunged forward, almost like a fencer, but he was quick to drive his fist between my shoulders, slamming to the floor where I lay, stunned and blinking rapidly, wondering what the hell had happened as thunder roared in my ears, the sound of rushing blood as my body told me again and again that I was in pain.

 

   Alastair drove a kick into my ribs, sending me flying into the wall. I smacked against it, luckily it more the shock of the impact that got me, not pain and I jerked my knees under me, getting to my feet as I shook the descending mist from my mind.

 

   He circled like a predator and I watched him, putting every ounce of my concentration into watching those pesky feet of his. I limped towards him, feigning an injury to my left leg, and whilst Roman whined Alastair smirked, already thinking I was defeated. So he was a little surprised when I brought my ‘injured’ leg up and caught him right where it hurt.

 

   If he’d had normal eyes he’d have gone cross eyed, as it was he bent double, torso rigid in pain, and stumbled back a little. I took advantage of his dropped guard and rammed a hammer fist into the back of his head.

 

  A perfect nerve strike. Even Sensitives weren’t invincible against those. He collapsed to the floor mouth agape and eyes shut. I knew from experience he’d be hearing bells for weeks after this.

 

   I straightened up when I was sure he wouldn’t be getting back up and shook myself, finding my centre and brushing off the pain. I’d had worse.

 

   “Jesus, you Clappers are something else,” Roman whistled with every evidence of admiration, he was completely nude and I looked away quickly,

 

   “That was easier than I thought it would be �" you were tougher you know?” I said as I opened the huge dustbin �" why is it that every time I’m thrown into walls there’s a softer surface just feet away? I chucked Alastair’s weapons into the bin then pointed from his body to the bin, “Would you mind?”

 

   Roman picked the unconscious man up easily and dumped him unceremoniously into the bin, then slammed the lid down. “I was tougher than he was?”

 

   I forgot I’d skimmed over the details of our fight, I shrugged, reluctant to bring it up, “Yeah, you set the house on fire, threw me into the fire place �" but I did stab you, so I think we were kind of on par, seeing as you did run away.”

 

   “I don’t run away,” he stated imperiously,

 

   “Well thank god you did then, or one of us would have been seriously hurt. Where are your clothes?” Roman started down the alley, neatly folded on top of a metal trash can were his clothes and shoes. How had we not noticed him? “I was fighting for my life and you were making sure you’re clothes stayed clean?”

 

   He gave a sheepish smile, ducking his head as he pulled the jeans on, I didn’t think to look away, just admiring the muscles as the rippled across his back. Not an ounce of fat on him, he was the poster boy for Calvin Klein and the Army. “They’re designer…”

 

   I shook my fist at him and started for the street, ready to get a bus and head back to the hotel room. I needed a shower, I needed to eat a tonne of ice cream and I needed to relax.

 

   The bus journey was uneventful and I was glad for it, I may have been some tough nerves of steel high pain threshold Lara Croft but even that big busted hero needed relax time.

 

   “Mmm bed and mindless TV,” I sighed as Roman shut the door of our shared dinky hotel room, “And choc chip ice cream!” I waved the bag of ice cream and sweets, things I’d forced Roman into getting from a corner shop.

 

   “Is that all you can think about?” he muttered, strolling past as I chucked my heels off, rubbing my ankles. Wendigos, vampires, Yetis I could deal with, but four hours in heels �" no way. He shut the curtains, “Ice cream?”

 

   “Man’s greatest invention �" after chocolate, and since this is both chocolate and ice cream it’s… heavenly,” he came over and took the ice cream from my hands, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he dropped the ice cream to the floor. I opened my mouth to protest but the heat in his eyes stopped the words on my tongue, I was suddenly aware of just how close he was standing,

 

   “I know something else that’s heavenly,” he murmured in a suggestive voice, right before his lips met mine. I reacted almost immediately, letting my hands trail up the silken skin of his neck to twist my fingers into his hair, tugging him closer, opening my lips to give him more, ready to give him everything. He tasted of liquorice and a strong red wine, intoxicating and addictive.

 

   Somehow, standing there, I got his shirt off, the heat from his skin warmer than any radiator, warmer almost than the sun, his body silken stone under my fingers. When his teeth tugged on my bottom lip and his lips trailed down to the tender bruise on my neck I was rudely dragged back to my senses.

 

   “Wait, wait, no,” I breathed unconvincingly but Roman pulled away, breathing almost as hard as I was, his eyes excited and not all human. I held him away with the flat of my hand, not quite touching his chest but really, really wanting to. My body was convinced this was okay, that I was allowed to make out with this guy, my mind on the other hand was a whirlwind of thoughts.

 

   “Aurora,” he breathed, and the look of want and need on his face did nothing to help me. He pressed against my restraining hand, “Don’t stop, please, don’t push me away Aurora,”

 

   I looked at him, torn, to be with him, or not to be. That was the question. I didn't know what was stopping me, really, the fact that if I were to be with him, romantically, it would look like we really were in cahoots from the beginning, it would make proving my innocence all the more difficult.

 

   Why should it? A voice whispered in my mind, if he is also innocent? Whilst another voice altogether was wondering why I even cared what other people thought, I never usually did, why should I start now?

 

   I pushed Roman away, a powerful push that made him stumble back until his legs hit the bed, he plopped down, unbalanced, and looked up at me, adorably confused.

 

   I reached behind me, unclasped the shoulder strap of the dress and tugged the zip down. The dress slid down my body and pooled around my feet.

 

   “Screw Heavenly, I’m going to hell,” I breathed, and once again closed the distance between us.

 

 

 

 

 

Have you ever had that feeling when you’re not quite asleep, but not quite awake, and everything is just perfect? Everything glows, even the manky stained carpet looks beautiful, and nothing can touch you. You’re protected by a bubble of insane happiness and content.

 

   You’d think being someone who hasn’t slept for two years, who has had a continuous string of rough nights, and an even more exciting one quite recently, would be too exhausted to actually know what happiness was.

 

   But there I was, lying in a cocoon of blankets, spooned against a man so warm he was like rocks which had been left in the sun. He also snored. It was quite endearing, repetitive but sweet. Not loud, more heavy breathing that caught every so often at the back of his throat.

 

   I drew patterns on the arm slung across my chest. Peace. How long could I relax and just forget the world, all our problems? I sighed silently and looked at the window, late morning light was pouring through the gap in the curtains, pigeons hooted and cooed on the window frame, my alarm clock, little voices warning me.

 

   Time to leave. Time to clear your name. Blah, blah and blah. Well hoot ‘em, at that moment and time I didn't give a rats arse. The only thing I was worried about was Teddy: weird I know when you’re naked in bed with another guy, but I couldn't stop thinking about how much my little brother was going to hate me.

 

   I really hoped he didn't think I was the murderer, but if everyone else did then he would. And now he was stuck with them, maybe he’d gone back to Ron… or maybe Mal was looking after him. For some reason that didn't fill me with confidence. The sooner I got my name cleared the sooner I could patch things up with my brother. It was about time we got on. I was fed up being the hated older sister, the b***h, the cow.

 

   “You think too much,” a sleepy voice murmured in my ear and I tensed, I hadn't even noticed he’d woken up,

 

   “Yeah? And you snore,” I retorted, rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom, now I knew he was awake I was able to walk around. I hadn't wanted to wake him up, I’d seen the black rings around his eyes; he needed sleep more than I did.

 

   “And you don’t sleep,” he stated, and from his tone we weren't messing around anymore. I froze at the bathroom door and turned slowly. Last night he h

 

adn't had time to count the many scars that marked my body, ranging from small dots where I might have been thrown through a window, or claw marks where I’d met a particularly nasty vampire, to the very obvious hand print burned into my skin.

 

   I didn't have as many scars as the Roman, but I had enough. For a seventeen year old I had more than enough.

 

   “Once upon a time there was a cocky, arrogant little princess, she was naïve and stupid and thought she was invincible. Then one day she met an evil witch, and she was attacked, tied up, beaten and whipped and drained of blood until she was a terrified lonely girl. She waited three days for her prince Charming to rescue her, only there was no Prince Charming. And she ended up dead. Eight days later she came back to life,” I smiled at his expression, picking up my towel from the chair, “Eight days dead is too long dead. I don’t sleep. I can’t.”

 

   I shut the door and turned the hot water on, then slumped against the wall. Opposite me I saw a shadow fill the gap of light under the door, and felt Roman’s presence, just on the other side, pressing against the wood. I brushed my fingers against it, grateful that he didn't try to comfort me. I didn't need comforting, I never had, and never would. I needed to live like nothing had changed, or at least try and pretend.

 

   “I’ll pack up and find out what bus route we need to get to Battersea �" the sooner we leave the better,” he called through the door. I managed some sort of reply and ducked under the scorching water, then I turned the heat off, and let the cold numb me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   “Are you okay?” Roman asked for the billionth time. I lowered my newspaper and glanced at him, stood opposite me seat on the crowded bus. How many times did I have to tell him I was alright?

 

   “When I go crazy I’ll be sure to let you know,” I breathed, trying not to let the over curious old woman opposite hear me as I brushed away Roman’s concerned looks. He snorted, disbelieving. He knew I’d had a cold shower �" and it confused him. I was just one big conundrum.

 

    “Aurora-” he started in an annoyingly patronising tone, for all that I was fond of him it was mighty irritating. In the end I cut him off, put a fake reassuring smile on my face and whisper shouted,

 

   “Honey he’s a specialist, Dr Birkbeck will sort out your little… problem in no time �" remember what Mike said? He was back in the bed room in no time -he prescribes, you know, V-I-A-G-R-A, to start you off,” After that Roman was suspiciously quiet, blushing slightly from all the stares he was getting from  our fellow bus drivers.

 

   Just as we were coming to the last stop the old woman leant across, tapped Roman on the shoulder and said in a very loud voice, “Viagra really works sweetie, you’ll be just fine.”

 

   Roman practically dragged me off the bus as, in peals of laughter, I waved back at the woman and called my thanks.

 

   “You’re mean,” he grumbled, scowling as he escorted me across the paths and towards the apartment blocks, I smacked a kiss on his cheek,

 

   “I know. You love me for it,” I skipped ahead, juggling the keys in my hand, and turned a corner, I spun away immediately as a bullet whizzed by, the shot ringing in my ears as painful heat seared across my neck. I pushed the startled Roman behind one of the parked cars.

 

   “What the-?” we cowered as bullets attacked the poor silver Vauxhall.

 

   “SIU! Someone gave us up!” I didn't like to think of the obvious option, just pushed Roman into a run as the shots slowed down, staying low we sprinted across the green of the residential area and dived behind a nice looking BMW, bullets peppered the tarmac beneath our fleeing feet,

 

   “’Relax, calm down’ he said, ‘Haven’t told anyone’ he said,” Roman growled as shattered glass fell over our heads and shoulders. I gave him a sour look and sent my senses out, warning him that there were at least seven, and a bigger team on the way, “Okay, we need to get out of here �" leave the car?”

 

   “Aw, Heat sensors Roman! The car had a heat sensor!” I whined, it was his turn for the sour look,

 

   “You’re so materialistic,”

 

   “Oh, that's a long word, simpleton,”

 

   “Not just a pretty face me,” he kissed my nose then we split, he ran from one side of the car, I ran the other. A black ops type man was creeping across the green, huge rifle out but he was too slow to shoot at me as I zipped across, leapt up and spun a kick, my foot connected with the helmet and black glass crunched on impact.

 

   I stole his gun before he collapsed, then spun round to see my werewolf, still in human form, had taken down five of the others, it was the sixth that got him. I screamed as, from atop the garage, a man appeared with a huge grenade launcher type weapon and shot it at the distracted man. A bundle unwrapped in mid air, and a horrible scream tore from Roman’s lips as a net of pure silver wrapped around him.

 

   I shot at the man and he came tumbling down, I raced towards Roman, who had learnt quickly that if he struggled the net only got more entangled in his limbs, smoke rose from deep thin burns, the smell terrible.

 

   He collapsed to the floor before I could get to him, one silver wire cut across his nose and cheeks, but he pinned me with his eyes, the screeching of tyres froze me in my tracks.

 

   Black suits poured out, the gun in my hands was empty, Roman wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, we were outnumbered.

 

   “Aurora! Run!” I looked between him and the soldiers, trying to decide if I could take them on, almost twenty men, fully armed… I should manage… “Don’t even think about it! Get out of here!”

 

   Torn I met his eyes, those beautiful violet eyes, he was begging for me to go. Begging for me to leave him, to run away.

 

   So I did.

 

   I raced across the green, trying not the think about the man I loved, stuck and hurt behind me, as I dodged bullets, leapt over cars and skidded into the main road. The diners in Pizza Express would have one hell of a fit seeing one girl running away from a hoard of black dressed SAS style men. With huge guns.

 

 

   I made it to the bridge before they decided it was safe to shoot me, me running down the centre of the road, trying not to be hit by honking cars. One black humvee skidded across the road to block my path and I bounced off the bonnet, unable to stop.

 

   Groaning I got to my feet, using the lethal car to hold me up, the door opened and I kicked it, a man’s head slammed into the window and I ran again. I could have stolen the car but it would have been far too much hassle, instead, waiting for a bus to groan past I zigzagged for the bridge wall, jumped onto it as walkers screamed about suicide.

 

   I’d been aiming for a graceful dive, so I wouldn’t hurt on impact, but the SIU didn't care so much about my wants and needs. A shot rang out, I jerked, feeling like I’d been kicked in the back by a horse, and tumbled head over heels into the murky water ten metres below.

 

 

 

 

 

 

   Flashing lights burning blue. Sirens through a tinny Dictaphone. Voices. Words merged into one. A long grey tunnel. Darkness. Sound faded to nothing with distance. Relief. A shock, a thunder bolt through my chest. Life.

 

 

 

   I was never truly asleep, I was aware of most of the things going on around me. Tubes stuck up my nose, needles in my arms and a numb pain from my back down. I wasn’t paralysed, the severe old doctor had told me after flashing a torch in my indignant sensitive eyes, nope. I was on the good stuff, the seriously good stuff. Drugged up to my eyes. It was awesome. Last time I’d felt so good I’d been drunk, high and making out with some Alex Pettyfer look alike.

 

   Only, unlike then, the handcuffs were not a turn on.

 

   “Come oo-o-on! I didn’ doooo iiiiiitt!” I whined over and over, amused by my own voice. In a private room, television stuck on World News and a wrist handcuffed to the bed I was getting star treatment. Not. Jelly and peas �" not necessarily together �" almost every meal, and a personal guard at the door who was dutifully ignoring me, had been for five hours.

 

   I felt like a criminal. Oh wait. I was.

 

   “I can hear you out on the street, you know that?” I jerked at the familiar voice and looked to the door,

 

   “Ron! Thank god! Tell them to let me out! Please let me go! I’m innocent I tell you! Innoooooceeent!”

 

   “You’re also high as a kite, morphine?” He hopped round the bed and slumped in the bedside chair, watching me,

 

   “Mmm, the extra, extra strong stuff. You should try it Ron, I can’t even feel my toes!” he leant out of bed and punched my thigh, I made a noise of complaint but didn't feel it, then he slapped me round the face. That sobered me, “Ahem, so, invalid, how’s Teddy?”

 

   “The boy’s fine. Wish he hadn't got caught up in the whole thing. He’s staying with that Weretiger, Mal or something.”

 

   “Ah, the gay one. Smart move, Ron,” I couldn't help laughing. Ron looked shocked, like he was kicking himself… if it was possible with a broken leg. “Where?”

 

   “Bucharest. They’re getting ready to transfer you over there to receive your sentence. As soon as they think you’re stable. The wolf’s already gone,” I tried not to show too much emotion, trying to decide if shedding a tear would make me look guilty in his eyes. Ron was silent for a few seconds, then he thumped the arm rest, “Why do it Rory? Why?”

 

   “Oh please! Don’t say you’ve fallen for her bleeding lies as well! For the love of god I didn't do it! Okay, the murders started ten years ago �" I was six, the last was the murder of my father �" are you really putting all that on me? God d****t I know its hard to tell from my baby photos but I’m no evil child genius, okay? I’m not Stuey!” he said nothing, I continued in a low voice, “My father was one of the victims, Ron. You’re friend. He died. You really think I did that? An eleven year old? Me? His daughter?”

 

   “Why run away? With him?”

 

   “Because we’re two people trying to prove our innocence!” I explained about the psychic, about Roman, about Schultze. At the end he was silent. I felt tears drip over my cheeks, “Uncle Ron, please. Please believe me. Yes, I’m a killer by nature, but I would never, never ever murder someone for, for fun, or personal gain �" dad raised me better than that. You raised me better than that.”

 

   He looked away, jaw tense, “I heard you died again.”

 

   Cold washed through my body and it was my turn to look away again, picking at the hospital blankets, “I was in the water too long, I came back in the Morgue,” I’d drowned, police had fished me out then stuck me in an ambulance, then I’d woken up naked on a metal table, a white sheet over my face. It as like something from a horror movie.

 

   It didn't help that this one effected more than the last, though I didn't get any noticeable dark gifts I felt different. Older, exhausted, empty. It was difficult just to focus now, my attention always drifting back to the calm…

 

   “It’s not right, no one dies twice, no one comes back to life twice,” I snapped back to Ron, he was looking at me like I was a two headed alien. He shook his head and stood up, limping on a wooden cane he shuffled closer, looking down at me. “I just can’t believe you about Herr Schultze. I’m sorry.”

 

   I thought he was going to leave. He pressed my fingers in his, whispered something and left. He spoke a little to the guard, then left. I heard his shuffling all the way to the elevator. The guard glanced in. I glowered. He turned away and I looked at the little shiny key concealed in my fingers,

 

   “If it weren’t for Mel I’d be leaving you here to rot,” he’d said. In other words ‘I love you but I’m a man and can’t reveal that’.

 

   Naw. I loved him too.

 

 

 

 

   No morphine and I was dying. Or felt like it. Being shot in the back and walking around so soon equals not smart. But I had to leave. I had to somehow get past all the guards, mind weasel my way onto a plane and get to Bucharest.

 

   No problem. Easy peasy lemon squeezy… Yah, right. I snorted as I stood in front of my door, just on the other side a guard was standing. Now I wasn’t completely drugged up I could use my mind powers, I hadn't realised morphine could affect me like that but now, though I couldn't really use my body my evil mind was stronger than ever.

 

   I knocked on the door, it opened and all I needed was the guard to look in my eyes. He did and viola, I had control over him, “Wheelchair, now. Clothes too.”

 

   Ten minutes later I was wheeling myself out of Charing Cross, in some gross baggy tracksuit bottoms and vest, heading for a taxi or anything to get me to Heathrow. It didn't take long. I got a lot of strange looks, but no one stopped me, no one would know I’d left until another guard came to relieve my previous one and found him sleeping like a baby, handcuffed to a radiator.

 

   Of course I had to find some better clothes, so wheeling round the shops of the airport I stole a couple of nice looking clothes, going up to the checkout, getting the labels off and persuading the sales person I’d paid.

 

   I had two hours before my flight left, at one point I was waiting and the airport security ran through, shouting about an escaped fugitive. They didn't even glance my way. I suppose they were expecting a mad woman, not a punk rock type of girl. In proper Goth make up, from white skin to black panda eyes and blood red lips I looked like an extra for Buffy or something. My short hair was pulled back tightly, some random purple and red hair extension woven in here and there. My clothes were no better, black fishnet stockings, high heels so high I was walking on the tops of my toes, a skirt so short I was scared to even walk without flashing. I couldn't wear a vest so I go a strange blood red corset top and a black silk fitted shirt that was all angles.

 

   I looked so different no one would ever recognise me, all they’d see was the creepy vampire wannabe and that was that. Of course the high heels weren’t helping my back, it was pure strength and will that stopped me from breaking down into sobs. The bullet had gone into the bony part of my shoulder, inches from my spinal chord. I was lucky.

 

   I was lucky I had died. A second time. You’d think there was some limit, but no, I’d died, come back to life, then died again and just like before I was miraculously healed. Ridiculous. I mean, did the Grim Reaper have something against me? I felt… it was hard to describe, I felt empty, but full at the same time, detached, not quite with it, like watching everything through a window. Disconnected. It wasn’t right. Not healthy.

 

   Still, I was alive. Who was I to complain? Death, funnily enough, healed you �" physically not mentally.

 

   “Calling all passengers for flight AF267 for Bucharest. Gate 47.” I sashayed towards the security, ignoring looks from fellow passengers I showed off my invisible passport and slipped through the metal detector. It beeped, a lot, but no one stopped me.

 

   It seemed I was on a simple trip to Bucharest. Luck was on my side, or maybe a hint of death.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   Giant Pretzels were the world’s best invention �" after chocolate… and Roman. Warm and chewy, salty and filling. I munched away on it, still dressed like a dark vampire goddess. Who was I kidding? I looked s****y and scary.

 

   I watched the huge building ahead of me. It was close to night, illuminated by orange street lights the place looked even creepier, with a gothic extravagant design they couldn't have been more obvious. It was a huge mansion, turrets and everything. They may as well have put ‘High Council meeting here’ in big fluorescent lights.

 

   I hadn't seen anyone go in but I knew they were all there, I could feel them. Teddy, Mal, Mason, Goldstein, Alice, the vampire council, a few Fairies, the Truth Seekers, Weres and her. Schultze.

 

   They had already started, they were hearing the accounts of my team mates. Hearing their lies. But if the speaker believed it was the truth even the most skilled Truth seeker would believe them. It was Schultze they might catch something on, if she didn't use her mind powers.

 

   I wasn’t so bothered about what was going on in there. I just had to get in. And I saw the perfect opportunity in the shape of a team of SIU members. In black ops suits they were almost invisible to the naked eye as they converged stealthily on the building. If I followed them I knew they were heading for the cellar, which then took them through a series of connected tunnels beneath the main hall �" the main hall where the council was taking place. I shed my shoes, sprinted across the road and headed for a straggler, black as the shadows they hid in. I threw my pretzel. It hit him on the back of the head in an explosion of dough. He turned and wham! He never knew what hit him.

 

   I caught him before he fell to the floor and quickly stripped him of his clothes, pulling them on over my own skimpy outfit. I left the shoes. I needed silence.

 

   Before someone came back looking for him and picked up the gun and jogged after the rest of the team, slipping through the ranks, my face hidden under the man’s stinky balaclava. He smelt like he’d eaten some garlic.

 

   No one spoke, it was all silent, hand gestures, this way, that way, watch my back, stay here, safety off. Then someone motioned for me to pair up with someone else. I really wanted to go with the guy with the black heavy metal briefcase, something that looked very expensive and heavy. No doubt dangerous.

 

   We jumped down into the abyss of the cellar, and guns up like proper SAS soldiers we slunk through the tunnels. Soon as I knew which way the briefcase was going and we were out of sight I stopped, the guy looked back at me, questioning. He couldn't talk in case the vampires above heard, sensitive as their hearing was.

 

   I shrugged then whacked him across the face with the butt of the gun. I caught him and lay him down, then ran after the briefcase, scheming in my head. They were under the main hall when I caught up to them, I down one man immediately, another charged at me, going to unsheathe a silver knife, I struck him in the jugular and let him fall, the sound louder as it echoed in the rocky room.

 

   The leader was crouched over the briefcase, a glass ball of a greenish colour. I was really hoping it wasn’t a bomb. He rose to his feet seeing my approach, I disarmed him and knocked him to the floor easily, then before he could so much as move I held the gun to his head,

 

   “What is that?” He didn't answer, staring up at me with defiant eyes, the skin around them blackened with paint. I yanked his balaclava off, maybe tugging out a few chunks of hair. “What. Is. That?” I repeated, lacing my voice with power, trapping his eyes with my own.

 

   “Scientists developed it. It’s an air carried virus that will destroy the vampiric plague,” I looked from him to the ball. Disbelieving. Was this what SIU did? Stole supernaturals to test ‘cures’ on them. Monstrous. “It works. There have been tests. Many tests. This is not the only bomb. We have orders to place bombs in cities where the vampire population is high. Even here the virus will carry almost a two hundred square mile radius. As soon as the main ‘Makers’ are cured their minions will be too.”

 

   Kill the creator kill the creation. Schultze had gone too far. She wanted both fairies and vampires out the way, then it would just be her, Weres and the few others. And she’d already proven she could control Weres.

 

   “Detonator?” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a little metal box shaped device, a black keypad on it. He told me the code. I thanked him then knocked him out.

 

   Now what to do? There was a swarm of almost twenty SIU specially trained killers under the most important building in the Supernatural world, and I held the key to the vampire race in my hands.

 

   Pressure.

 

 

   I could probably take the men out, like the super ninja I was, but stuffing the detonator in my pocket and heading for the exit I decided I could use them. Already a plan was forming in my mind, not exactly the best one but maybe, just maybe it would work. But I couldn't promise there would not be any casualties.

 

   Oh well. It was all for a good cause… “Sort of,” I whispered as I began climbing up the drain pipe.

 

 

    Balancing on a window ledge I tried to look through the window, it was so dark outside and dim inside that my own reflection was getting the way, all I could make out were some blurry figures below me, the council in a sort of semi circle of seats like judges, to the side a small block of chairs for the Truth Seekers, the Jury, and then more seats for the commoners. Or the ones damning me. Traitors. I could make out the two tigers flaming red hair, someone was in the stand talking, from the size I thought it was Goldstein.

 

  I snorted, wondering what lovely things they would be saying about me, probably that since I’d taken control so often I was leading them on a wild goose chase or something of the sort. Schultze had said she’d been slipping evil thoughts to them from the beginning.

 

   I stuck a knife through the gap between the windows and worked the catch up and off, swinging the window open, I poised over the window sill, watching the vampires and Weres. They hadn't heard anything. Or at least nobody looked up, not even the psychics.

 

   We were in a grand hall, with a tall arching ceiling, the gothic theme had been followed on, with flickering candles in the chandelier, little gargoyles dotted around here and there, grinning down on the proceeds. I crouched, balancing on the small ledge, it was almost a twenty foot drop down to the floor, and if I went straight I’d land in a mess among the chairs. I had to time it right too. My grand entrance.

 

   Goldstein was dismissed, he bowed his head, turned his huge suited body and headed for the chairs. He stopped to help a limping frail figure shuffle up to the stand, Schultze clung to the big man’s arm, her foot swathed in white bandages. I felt a surge of amusement and wicked pride.

 

   “State your name,” a cold hard voice ordered, one of the vampires from the council. I recognised Asher as one of the vampires, not quite at the front, on thte right had of another, a lady, with icy silver hair, from where I could see everything about her was long, a long serene face, willowy arms and slender fingers. She was beautiful and terrifying, like most Vampires.

 

   Now was my moment. I took a deep breath and jumped.

 

   I flew through the air, rushing down, I’d angled it perfectly, sort of. It was acceptable, not quite as graceful as a true Supernatural but for a human I thought I did pretty damn well.

 

   I hit the floor hard, rolling as I took the impact. There were a few shocked gasps and then a general stunned silence as, groaning, I pushed to my hands and knees, staggering painfully to my feet.

 

   I looked up at Asher, sucking in air I took advantage of the silence, “You owe me £1.5 million.”

 

   He recovered fast, leaning forward, blue eyes sharp, the handsome man twitched a smile, “Aren’t you meant to be in a hospital bed somewhere?”

 

  “I got better, anyway,” I pointed a numb hand at Schultze, “I caught your murderer, it’s her. I told you,” I turned to look at Mal, both he and Mason had crept forward, hoping to catch me unawares, but as soon as I pinned them with my eyes they stumbled to a stop, “She’s the wicked witch, the evil step mother etcetera. Get the gist? She’s used her mind tricks to make you believe it was all me.”

 

   “I think we’d know if our minds were being corrupted,” Goldstein rumbled and I threw my hands up, exasperated, turned to the Truth Seekers, five of them, each elderly and watching me with wary expressions,

 

   “My name is Aurora Jagger, I was born the 25^th of March, 2003, my natural hair colour is brown, I always dress like this. I prefer butterfly knives to pistols, I trained with the army when I was thirteen,” I took a deep breath, “Now, tell me, did you catch the lies?”

 

   “What nonsense are you talking about?” The woman asked in a bored melodic voice,

 

   “Hopefully the type of nonsense that will prove my innocence,” I motioned for the Seekers to reply,

 

   “We caught two. Your natural hair colour is not brown, you do not always dress like that,” an old man on the edge revealed in a strong hoarse voice, “What is the meaning of this?”

 

   “I just wanted to see whether I can lie to the Seekers, I can’t, so hopefully you can tell what I’m going to tell you next is the truth: Schultze is the murderer.” There was no response, the Seekers shared an uneasy look,

 

   “Ridiculous,” Schultze stammered before strengthening her voice, “She’s a psychic, she’s learnt how to manipulate it.”

 

   Truth. I narrowed my ears and spun round to face the evil cow, “Is your real name Madeline Schultze?”

 

   “Of course,”

 

  “Was your daughter murdered by a young vampire?”

 

   Her lips tightened, “Yes.”

 

   “Are you wearing a puce cardigan?”

 

   “No,” she was wearing a violet one, “Wha-”

 

   I fired another question off, “Is it true you don’t want Evelyn to be queen?”

 

   “No,”

 

   “Do you control SIU?”

 

   “No,”

 

   “Is there a team of SIU swarming the building at this very moment?”

 

   “I do not know,”

 

   “Have the SIU created a virus that will destroy the vampire strain?” There was a general murmuring at this question, heaving a deep breath Schultze’s eyes burned with hate,

 

   “I hope not.” I stalked in front of her, musing silently then turned to the Seekers,

 

   “How many lies did you catch?” they all came to the same agreement that they heard none, I shook my head with disappointment, “Funny, I caught four. Schultze wants Evelyn to stay in limbo so that the Fairies are weakened, she controls the SIU who capture Supernaturals and experiment on them and there is a team of SIU in this building getting ready to detonate a bomb that will in fact release a virus that will eradicate the vampire strain. Wanna know how I know? Because this is one of their suits, and there's also this-” I pulled out the detonator and heard Schultze’s sharp intake of breath.

 

   “Tell me that is not a detonator,” Mal muttered to his brother and I shrugged,

 

   “Sorry to disappoint you, it is. I currently hold the fate of the vampires in the palm of my hand, isn’t that scary? Me? A crazy murderer who has every reason to hate you vampires.”

 

   The effect was instantaneous. I waved the detonator around, watching everyone’s reactions. They were scared to move. The vampires finally looked at me as if I were a threat, the Weres, funnily enough, looked contemplative.

 

   “You ruin everything, Aurora,” Schultze spat out, I gave the Seekers a smug smile, “It would have been so simple, all they had to do was kill you.”

 

   “Death doesn’t suit me,” I waved a hand and looked, not at the Council, but at my comrades, “Now do you believe me?” Alice hesitated for all of a second before nodding slowly, smiling slightly.

 

   “It doesn’t matter, all around the world I have my men moving. By morning vampires will be no more,” cue cackle.

 

   “Well for once I won’t be responsible,” I said triumphantly just as the ground beneath the council’s platform disappeared in a deafening explosion of dust and smoke. I wasn’t the only person who just stood there, staring at where the floor had been just seconds before. One minute Council, next minute no Council.

 

   I recovered before the dust had settled, rushed past Mal and Mason and headed for my brother, half raised from his seat, “Aurora?”

 

   “No time, c’mon!” I grabbed his arm and pulled him after me, heading for the door. We were too late, we barely got through all the rows of chairs before the huge arching doors were blown off their hinges. The shock sent us both flying, I somehow managed to twist in the air so that when we smacked back on the floor I was half covering Teddy, protecting him from shooting splinters of wood.

 

   As more men piled through - like some sort of Action movie, making me feel like this was some sort of drugs bust �" I pushed to my feet, dragging Teddy after me and pushing him away from the circling soldiers. The five of us met in the centre, back to back, trapped. Goldstein was leaning heavily on Alice, her slight frame bowing under his weight. Holding his stomach, blood oozed between his fingers, his face pale and clammy.

 

   Mason had a hand pressed over a wound on his shoulder, his eyes burning as bright as his hair as he growled at the circling men. Mal clapped a hand on Teddy’s shoulder and dragged him back into the protection of our circle.

 

   “Too many,” I murmured over and over, feeling desperation surge through my body. The men, after making a full circle of the hall, finally came to a stop, all guns trailed on our little group. The only sounds were of our cursing and heavy breathing, the sound of rubble settling.

 

   “Well, well, well, finally, it looks like I’ve finally caught you,” Schultze’s voice hit me, cool and mocking. Desperation turned to anger as she hobbled into view, a cruel smile on her lips. She twitched her fingers and a black suited man broke from ranks to stand beside her, “relieve Miss Jagger of the detonator.”

 

   He strode forward, puffing his chest and straightening so as to look tall and intimidating, it didn't work. As soon as he reached for me I stepped into him and brought the heel of my hand into his nose, shoving it into his head in a horrible spurt of blood. He hit the floor like a felled tree.

 

   A shot rang out. Cold fingers grasped my heart, for a moment I thought maybe I’d been shot. But then I heard Mal’s shout, saw where Schultze was pointing her gun. I turned slowly, as if in a nightmare, and watched as my little brother staggered, clutching his chest. I caught him as he fell, his weight dragged me down and I cradled him against my body, trying to staunch the bleeding.

 

   There was so much. Surely I’d never bled that much? I didn't know we had so much blood in our bodies. Mal crouched protectively over us, desperately shouting instructions into my ears, they flew right over my head.

 

   I stared into my brother’s face; now this, this was helplessness. “Ror- Rora?”

 

   I stroked his face, wiped the blood that trickled from his lips, “Shh, don’t talk, I’m right here, Teddy, I’m not going anywhere, neither’s Mal. Mal’s here.” The Weretiger took his hand, I was glad. That way I didn't feel so useless.

 

   “Take the detonator,” that hated voice repeated, hands frisked my body, I didn't respond this time, they could do whatever the hell they liked. My brother was dying.

 

   “STOP!” I glanced up, that was Asher, the Council were reappearing from the hole, bloodied, beaten and grey with dust. They were strong and invincible, already taking out soldiers before they could lift their guns in defence. Schultze screamed, the soldier jabbed at the numbers of the remote.

 

   Maybe they were expecting an explosion, who knew what they were expecting but at that moment it seemed like time had stopped.

 

   Heads were flying (literally) blood was flowing. The vampires screamed in fear, Teddy choked on air, and as I watched his eyes fluttered, and the light went out, it was an obvious little change. My heart stopped, I couldn't breathe.

 

   As I looked down at the body in my arms it seemed like years of anger and hate had been completely washed away, and the boy I held was the little boy I’d held and comforted when he was bullied at school. The boy I’d sung to sleep after daddy’s death. The boy I would die for.

 

   “Teddy?” Mal’s voice was vulnerable, he touched the boy’s pale face. I sobbed. Bent over his body, pressing my cheek so close to his my tears were trapped.

 

   I whispered ragged words, powerful words, words of desperation. I didn't expect it to work, I’d hoped it had, and maybe for once the powers that be took pity on me, moved by that tiny grain of hope I somehow still possessed.

 

   I felt the change, the pain in my back, hard and unforgiving, blood thick and warm ran rivers down my back, and I shook, feeling dizzy and exhausted, my head swam and my body felt like a puppets, not mine to control.

 

   I gently lay Teddy down, leaving him to Mal as I forced myself to my feet, I walked a few paces, stopped, looked down at a body I couldn't remember being there before. Schultze. Her heart had been ripped out.

 

   I knew how that felt.

 

   “Aurora?” I looked up, Asher looked back, confused, spattered with blood, something twitching and gory in his hands. I blinked rapidly as his figure blurred, wobbled and doubled, tripled.

 

   “Y-you’re lucky I know how to disarm bombs,” I managed, even my voice sounded wrong, distant. I fell backwards, hit the ground but it could have been a bed of nails and I never would have noticed. My body was not my own, I could feel nothing, only the warm puddle of blood that pooled beneath me.

 

   Faces loomed into my vision, mouths moved but I couldn't hear the words. As I shut my eyes the only thing I heard was the raw intake of breath of a person being reborn.

 

 

 

 

 

     Schultze had been right that day. For all the hard, desperate work of Supernaturals around the world there had not been enough time: by morning Vampires were no more. They didn't die, they became human, something considered worse than death. Vampires, thousands of years old, once invincible now found themselves vulnerable and weak.

 

   But not all was lost. As dawn broke, the beginning of a new era, Phoebe Evelyn Sullivan, Heir to the Fairy Throne, awoke after ten years of slumber. So not all was lost, with at least one of the oldest races safe things could continue steadily. All that was left was persuading the vampires to keep their upstanding positions and titles and continue to aid Supernaturals, some did, some could not stand being human and threw themselves on their swords, some revelled in a new life, a life where they could have a family.

 

 

   Then there was the business of taking down the SIU and releasing all the Supernaturals who had been forced for years to undergo tortuous experimentations. From now on the Supernaturals dealt with their own.

 

   Fortunately the vampires of Romania were safe, the oldest vampires, the High Council, had been saved, they were now the Last Vampires. All because of one girl. One girl who had every reason to kill them and didn't.

 

   And what happened to her? Aurora Jagger lay in a hospital bed, barely clinging for life.

 

   Evelyn walked down the white hallway, trying hard to block thoughts of pain from her own sensitive mind. Hospitals were not the best place for Psychics. She turned a corner and stopped at the crowd outside Jagger’s hospital room. Two redheaded Weretigers, one with a dark elf under his arm, a human mercenary called Oliver, a psychic couple, Evelyn knew from Alice that they were Aurora’s guardians, Ron and Mel. The air around them was heavy with grief, it almost brought tears to her eyes.

 

   Alice herself was still in the hospital but was visiting Goldstein, now out of critical care and was talking and eating, recovering from a bullet to the gut.

 

   “Queen Evelyn,” the two Weres murmured, standing up from their seats, “A pleasure to have you back.”

 

   Even the little female dark elf bowed her head in respect, maybe it was the change, once a half breed the previous queen’s magic had transformed her into a true fairy. All the glamour in the world couldn’t hide that from another Fey.

 

   The couple simple nodded, Mel’s hands were grasping her husband’s so tightly it must have hurt, but he made no move to reclaim his hand, content to endure the pain to provide simple comfort for his wife.

 

   “May I see her?” she asked politely. Today was the day. She knew, they knew. It was why they were all gathered. That and guilt. In her last days of life her comrades had hated her. Blamed her for something she had not done. They said nothing to stop her and she walked in.

 

   A coma, the doctors had said, and their voices were so bleak Evelyn knew instantly that Aurora Jagger had little chances of waking up. Feeling a sadness weighing down on her chest she stood over the pale figure, skin as white as the blankets around her.

 

   There were so many wires, Evelyn thought it was one of the worst ways to go for someone who fought so valiantly. Tentatively she touched the cold hand, then more securely wrapped her fingers through the other girl’s.

 

   She felt a connection with Aurora, though they had never met face to face, and probably never would, those few minutes Aurora had spent with her in the Astral Plain had been enough.

 

   “Without you I probably would never have come home,” She whispered, her voice breaking. She took a deep breath, trying not to cry. Her emotions were all over the place, she felt as unsteady as a new born filly.

 

   “Excuse me?” She glanced over her shoulder and took in the figure standing in the doorway. Edward Jagger, or Teddy, looked like a beaten puppy, black shadows under his bloodshot eyes, hair scruffy from sleep, in a shirt and jeans he looked frail and vulnerable, his shoulders were hunched and he walked jerkily, like he wasn’t used to it.

 

   All he saw was a stunning girl, barely older than Aurora, with wheat gold hair so long that even though she’d twisted it in a bun tresses still escaped down to the base of her back. In a simple leather jacket, jeans and no make up she still looked beautiful, but a fairy, especially a queen, had no need for make up, they had an otherworldly glow to them.

 

   “Your majesty,” he bowed his head and walked round to the other side of the bed, touched his sister’s face gently and sat down at the bedside chair. Books were piled on the table beside him, Grimm’s Fables, the classic Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. He noticed her looking at them, “They say someone in a coma can still hear things, I thought I’d read her favourite books.”

 

   He picked up Harry Potter, stared unseeingly at the front cover, “She used to read these to me, when I was little.”

 

   A smile twitched the Queen’s lips, “Sounds like a good sister,”

 

   The boy shrugged in response, putting the book back, “She wasn’t the greatest. But she tried. I suppose it’s now, that she's like this, that I realise just how much I rely on her. She was a Clapper, you know? They die, I thought everyone’d die, and leave me like Dad did… she never died. She always came back.”

 

   He stared at his sister’s face. She always came back, they may not have gotten on, they always fought, and yet she always came back. Just to prove that she wasn’t going anywhere. And now. Now she was there, in front of him, but not.

 

   “She gave up her life for me,” Evelyn watched him, waited patiently for him to speak in his own time. From the stumbling words it sounded like he hadn't told anyone else, and that because she was a stranger it didn't matter she saw his weak side. “When I was… dead I heard her. Heard her voice. I wish I hadn't.”

 

   “What did she say?” the steady beeping of Aurora’s heart monitor filled the silence. Teddy shut his eyes, listening to it, but when he shut his eyes all he saw was his sister’s bloodied body, lying feet away from him, barely breathing.

 

   “’Take it. I don’t want it anymore, give it to him. Take it back and give it to my brother’. She meant her life. She gave me her life. B***h,” tears ran down his cheeks which he quickly wiped away, aware of the people just outside the door.

 

   “Teddy,” a comforting voice came from the door and one of the Tiger twins came in, striding quickly round to his side. Teddy shook his head, took a shuddering breath and gave a bitter smile.

 

   “A few more hours, give me that?” he asked, and Mal bowed over his lover’s head, placed a kiss on his forehead and left. With a flick of his wrist the Weretiger gestured for Evelyn to leave too. She hesitated, then in a similar movement to Mal’s placed a kiss on Aurora’s cheek,

 

   “I wish we’d had more time,” she almost hoped the girl would wake up and say something, anything, but she didn't, and reluctantly Evelyn left.

 

   “I’ll escort you out,” Mal said, after learning Evelyn was to go back to the Court of the Sky.

 

   “When?” Evelyn asked in the silence of the lift. Mal’s shoulder tensed with grief, he understood the question.

 

   “This evening,” she processed this staunchly.

 

   “When is the execution?”

 

   “This evening,” she replied resolutely. A Queen could not be emotional when it came to duty.

 

   “I suppose it’s a good thing…” Mal mused as the doors pinged open and they crossed the reception, “Better to die than to live with a broken heart. They were lovers, you know?”

 

   She stopped on the street, it was a bitingly cold bitter day, the sun trying to fight through grey violet clouds, “I know.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

   In the dungeons of the Court of the Sky the werewolf waited. Looking at him you would never have seen someone so calm, so accepting. In a ceremonial loose tunic and trousers he sat in a meditating pose on the floor, eyes shut, barely breathing.

 

   Evelyn watched him through the bars, he knew she was there, an eyebrow twitched as she spoke, “It seems just yesterday that I was the one in the cage and you were the one outside.”

 

   His shoulders hunched with regret, “Did I ever apologise for that?”

 

   “You don’t have to. You were under orders, and you were angry. I hold no blame over you,” she had long forgiven him. She’d expected to hate him, but Aurora had told her to accept what had happened, and it seemed that acceptance was similar to forgiveness.

 

   “But you still blame me for these murders? Even though I was under orders? Not in control?” there was no bitterness in his voice, there was nothing.

 

   “I wish I could stop this, Roman, but I can’t. Ten years of murders is too much to forgive, I can but not the people. I’m sorry,” now he opened his eyes, he smiled curiously,

 

   “The funny thing is that I really think you are. You have no reason to be. You’re Queen, you’ll be a great one, pumpkin.”

 

   “Thank you, Roman. I really wish things were different, you know, I don’t want to do this. It’s not the best way to begin a reign,” he chuckled, shaking his head he got his feet, stretching.

 

   “On the contrary, it’s a brilliant way to start a reign: strong and just. That’s what you are. Tonight will say ‘I’m Evelyn, do not upset me or I’ll chop off your head’. No one will dare question you, Evelyn. An execution is the best way to start. Trust me.”

 

   Somewhere a gong sounded, a guard down the corridor appeared and nodded tightly at his queen. “It’s time, Roman.”

 

   He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, “Answer me this, Evelyn, one last thing. Please. No one will tell me. What of Aurora?”

 

   She froze in the process of walking away, blinked hard, her words trapped in her throat, tell him? Tell him the truth? And let his last moments be full of pain?

 

   “Pumpkin?” he sounded so desperate, he knew something was wrong. He was okay with dying, it was his time, but if there was something wrong with Aurora he would not be able to cope. He’d need to help her.

 

   “She’s in hospital. She’s dying, Roman. There is nothing they can do for her,” she walked away resolutely, his howl ringing in her ears, so full of pain her composure was almost shattered.

 

   When they brought him out ten minutes later, in front of thousands of Supernaturals crammed into the Court of the Sky, he was still crying. Silently. His body heavy with grief.

 

   All of it, everything she had been through, and for what? She was still dying. He’d never known someone who deserved to live as much as she did, who had fought so hard.

 

   “For the murder of Mary-Ann Sullivan, the attempted murder of our Queen Evelyn and the murders of Sensitives across the world,” the herald’s voice rang out across the huge room, echoing up to the very top row of people, “You are sentenced to death.”

 

   Somewhere across the world friends gathered around a hospital bed, some cried, some stayed resolutely silent as the Doctor pulled wires out a frail arm, one by one. Goldstein had forced himself to his feet, leaning heavily on a sobbing Alice, ignoring his wounds. He would pay his respects as the soldier he was, not in a wheelchair. She deserved more than that.

 

   “Roman, centurion and gladiator, soldier for the Fairies, you have done some good services for our race,” the Queen spoke, from her voice you would not have known she was holding back tears, at her side Bran squeezed her hand in reassurance. “Do you have any last words?”

 

   Ron and Mel stared down at the girl who was more than a daughter to them, the doctor removed the tube from her mouth, she had never looked so serene. So calm. Content. Teddy clung resolutely to her hand, he didn't cry. He had no tears left.

 

   On his knees Roman shut his eyes, lifted his head back and drew air through his lips, letting his grief fall away. He felt something he hadn't felt for a long time, so long he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. Peace. “Gods, let me see her one more time.”

 

   The switch was flicked. The deed done. The doctor retreated from the room, the grief too hard to watch.

 

   The executioner stepped forward, a cloaked Fairy oozing emptiness and death. He pressed a hand to the Werewolf’s chest, over the heart. He didn't flinch. His heart beat strongly, defiantly. Fingers, softer, lighter, kinder touched his face, coaxed his eyes open. Aurora’s face looked down at him, smiling beautifully, glowing and ethereal.

 

   “Roman…” she cradled his head in her arms, holding him against her chest as if to protect him.

 

   The beeps of the monitor came at longer intervals, the heart struggling to keep its owner alive.

 

   “I won’t let you go,” her voice like music echoed through his mind. He shut his eyes, smiled. A flash of black shot from the hand through Roman’s chest, cold fingers clutched his heart. It was quick. It was painless. Thousands watched as the body relaxed, head dropping, and the man fell. Lay on the floor unmoving. Executed. Dead. Gone. And the audience could have sworn, for a moment before his death, he had been glowing.

 

   In the hospital room Mason, Ama, Oliver, Mal, Alice and Goldstein, Ron and Mel, and Teddy listened as the machine beeped once, twice, silence. Gone.

 

   Maybe somewhere someone heard Roman’s last wish, maybe they granted it.