The Nephelim
Chapter 11
animus and Staine

Notes: Bite my arse but it�s been a long, bumpy ride hasn�t it? I apologise again for the massive lags between postings, and the plot (or lack thereof) that seemed to follow no discernable route over some chapters - if not the entire series. There were a lot of thing we knew we wanted to get done in the Nephelim, but really had no idea about how to actually get them done, hence all the dead ends and loopholes in the text, as well as the scenes that took minds of their own and refused to head in the direction we intended them to go. Jenni for example, wasn�t supposed to feature in more than a single chapter, and yet the feisty little snot has somehow managed to claim almost as much of the word real estate as Alec does ever since she showed up. Then again, as this was the largest piece of work either of us has ever done to date, the learning curve was an utter whore. Still, despite the bickering, and the insults, and the really malicious insults, and the insults that make all of the above look like sweet talking (and that�s just us �communicating� with each other) it�s been a fucking blast, and hopefully we�ve learnt some useful stuff to take into the writing of the next book. A big bloody shitload of thanks to everyone who�s followed the long rambling story from its painfully scrawled beginnings, and taken the time to offer feedback� for those that didn�t, then the next time you see a shadow move, its probably a Sigurdian whose etheric claws are about to shred your sad meat sack. MUAHAHAHAHA!

Ahem. Anyway enough from us, here�s the last chapter of the Nephelim. Enjoy.

-animus and Staine

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Act XI

Alec ran.

He had never been much of a sprinter, or even a jogger for that matter, because until the change he�d always been too pathetic for sport and after the change� well, after the change he�d had better things to do than run around in circles. Now he almost wished he�d made the effort. Having the metabolism and the stamina of a Nephelim gave him a significant edge, but he couldn�t help feeling that a little hard work over that foundation would have taken him significantly further. But reflection wasn�t helping at the moment, so he ended the train of thought and concentrated on maintaining his run. That crazy bitch was still out here somewhere. He couldn�t see her, or even feel her with his pulses, but instinct told him she was not far behind. By dead reckoning, he was almost two miles from Kensington Station now, but he was still in the suburbs.

Damn morality!

He couldn�t fight Blaise anyplace where there were witnesses. From the time their minds met and he�d been drawn to her home, he�d felt the taint of madness that surrounded her. The bitch would not make any effort to prevent herself harming random people around them if it came down to a fight, so as far as he was concerned he had to take her somewhere with the least number of potential bystanders. Her fight was with him, and while he dreaded it, he knew there was no avoiding a confrontation now. He had to put her in her place now before she upped the ante, but at the same time keep the fight contained so that it was just the two of them. He knew she was stronger, significantly so in fact, and the last thing he�d be able to worry about would be trying to protect people that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hell, he would be stretched to the limit just protecting himself!

Two miles� damnit! If he wasn�t so busy running for his fucking life, he�d have been impressed. For someone that smoked close to a pack a day, two miles in just under ten minutes was no mean feat! But he was almost at the end of his rope now. His lungs were burning, his feet were aching, and his steps were getting erratic as fatigue-numbed muscles were finding it harder and harder to obey his will. Determination, he thought grumpily, does not necessarily conquer all. Especially if the "all" had been pointedly ignoring the need to exercise.

<Run! Run! As fast as you can!> she sent mockingly.

Stupid bitch. Alec allowed a vague smirk to appear at the corner of his mouth as he quietly recited the next line of the ditty: You can�t catch me! I�m the gingerbread man! His amusement was short lived as he remembered that the gingerbread man eventually got caught, and subsequently eaten. He was also bothered by the thought that he was still running. Surely Blaise could have caught him if she really wanted to. Strictly speaking, he was making good time, and on foot a pursuer might be hard pressed to gain ground, but all she needed was a car and she�d have caught him in no time. Even without a car, surely someone with as much power as she could arrange an alternative mode of transport. Didn�t she care about the possibility he was leading her into a trap? He wasn�t, but he was pretty sure she hadn�t breached his mind yet, so she�d had no way of knowing where they were going. The best answer he could come up with didn�t give him any comfort.

In all likeliness, she just didn�t care.

The darkened streets continued to fly by but finally, at the next corner, he caught sight of his intended destination. Bordered by native wetland on two sides, and Dalton Creek on the third, the old Hancock Military depot was the ideal location for a confrontation. The base had been closed down for years now, awaiting the sale of the land, and Alec had chosen it for one reason, and one reason alone. It sat alone at the far end of Morecombe Street, and it was about the largest, most isolated place within running distance of Kensington Station.

He covered the last three hundred or so metres on feet that seemed made of lead. The pair of heavy padlocks slipped open at a thought, and he ripped away the chain and forced aside one end of sliding gate. He didn�t bother trying to relock the gate - it would be even less of an obstacle for her, and staggered towards the closest of the large storage sheds. Bypassing the lock was again the work of a few seconds of concentration, and then he was inside. Only then did he allow himself to catch his breath as he took stock of his surroundings. It was pitch black inside, for the depot was without electricity, and the few windows it did have were shuttered, but that was of little import. He didn�t need light to see, and there wasn�t much to see anyway. Everything of value had long since been stripped away. There were some lengths of PVC pipe, a couple of empty pallets, a broken crate, and a whole lot of dust.

"You�d think someone could�ve left an old box of SLR�s," he grumbled. The British version of the Belgian FAL rifle was no longer a part of the current ADF arsenal, but a working model would have still come in handy. Still, it wasn�t like anyone was just going to leave a couple of assault rifles lying around, and certainly not next to a crate of live 7.62mm ammunition. Pity, he commiserated, because a length of PVC pipe, a modified diving knife, and an old crate lid as a shield weren�t exactly on the top-ten list of things to fight deranged psycho-bitches with.

"What would MacGyver do?" Alec snorted and morbidly answered his own question. "Ditch the stupid Swiss Army knife and run like a bitch."

He moved to the centre of the shed and turned to face the main doors. They were the roller sort that slid up to open and left an opening big enough to drive a truck through, with a smaller human-sized door (that he�d used to gain entry) cut into the wall on one side. Those doors - short of busting some wood and sheet metal - were the only way in or out of the shed. He tucked the back of his shirt under the waistband of his trousers, leaving the handle of the knife clear. It just wouldn�t do to have it snag on his shirt tail when it was needed. Satisfied that the weapon could be easily drawn, he expanded his senses, filling the entire shed with pulses. There was nothing left to do now but wait.

He felt her power a fraction of a second before he heard it. Metal squealed and buckled as the personnel door was peeled off, seemingly by a giant invisible hand. In mere seconds, the bottom hinge was the only thing holding it to the doorframe. Then it was wrenched free and whisked away, disappearing outward into the night. He didn�t hear it land.

She stood just outside the open doorway with the moon behind her. Clad in a skin-tight little strapless number that started just above her nipples and ended barely an inch below her arse, her silhouette was more than enough to make him catch his breath. Lean, long-limbed, and curvy without a single excess. Irrelevantly, Alec wondered where she ended, and her projection of self began. There was more to her appearance than met the eye. He could feel her looking directly at him, even though he knew no human could possibly make out a thing in the darkness. Her uncanny knack of spying him out scared the piss out of him, and he wanted nothing more than to run, but he knew the futility of that. Even if he had the wind for it, running would serve no purpose. This had to be finished. He swallowed the lump in his throat and gritted his teeth. One way or another, this would end here, tonight!

She slid forward, her movements fluid and regal, and her carriage that of a queen who firmly believed she was born to be adored. Even though he knew in the back of his mind that the angles were all wrong now, she somehow managed to remain silhouetted under the light of the moon as she unerringly approached him. He didn�t dare breathe as she halved the distance between them, and then stopped.

"Hello, Aleck."

"Blaise," he conceded after a slight pause.

Her head turned slightly, and he knew she was taking stock of her surroundings. "Not quite what I was hoping for," she didn�t bother to hide her distaste. "You bring all the girls who chase you here?"

"Only the fucking demented ones."

She laughed. Her voice was rich, silky, and creepy as fuck because of how sexy she sounded, and how messed up he knew she was. There was no word he could think of to describe her aura other than WRONG. As he shifted his perceptions and took a closer look, an especially disturbing factor was brought caught his attention. Blaise was human, or at least she had been. There was enough of a human aura there to back that up, but her power was another thing entirely. She had the might of a seraph! Not power equivalent to that of a seraph, as least maybe not in terms of quantity, but she was using the power of a seraph. She felt like a seraphim, and yet, she clearly wasn�t. It made no fucking sense!

Unless� unless he was facing another goddamned Nephelim!

"What are you?"

He sensed her smile. "Me."

"That�s not what I meant."

"Then say what you meant."

"Okay." His fingers ached to feel the comforting leather grips of his knife, but he forced his hands to remain by his sides. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" she laughed again. "I thought that was obvious. I want you."

"You mean you want a fucking slave!" Alec all but spat. "No bloody way!"

She shook her head dismissively. "Slaves, I�m in no short supply off. I see someone I want, and he�s mine. It�s that simple. Nothing is beyond me. Nothing is beyond my reach. I could have any man I wanted in this city, or any city in the world for that matter, and easier than snapping my fingers he�ll be by my side, his tongue hanging out and eager to please. It�s been fun, I�ll admit, but there�s no challenge, no seduction." He felt her smile. "No chase."

She took a step closer, tilting her head slightly to one side. "To be honest, I�m bored. The world is at my feet, and I�m bored. Can you believe that?" Alec didn�t bother answering. "See, if there�s one thing wrong about being a Goddess, it�s that I never have to fight for anything. I�m always the first in line."

"Get to the point."

"The point is, you. You�re the only one to resist me." She idly waved down at herself. "Now I know you�re not gay, but surely, what more could you want from a woman?"

"How about a little fucking modesty?" He knew he was nitpicking now, but when a woman looked as good as she did, there was nothing a sane male had left to attack physically.

"Modesty? Ha! Modesty is for sad little people with nothing else going for them. I don�t need modesty. I�m perfection." She took another step closer and held out her hand. "And I need a consort."

"A consort?"

"Of course. Behind every perfect woman is a perfect man," she chuckled, "servicing her� But not any man will do. I want someone worthy of me. Someone with power, with spirit, someone who has earned the right to stand by my side!"

"You�re out of your goddamned mind," Alec told her. "Has it ever occurred to you that I might not want anything to do with you?"

"Oh I think you�ve made your feelings obvious already, but I do love a good chase. No man has ever been able to resist me, and I�m not about to botch my perfect score yet. You�ve shown me that you�re worth my A game by being able to hold out so far, but that all changes tonight. Tonight, you�re going to prove your worth, and then you�re going to take your rightful place beside me. Just think," she purred dreamily, "your powers and mine, combined! There�d be nothing we couldn�t do! We�d be gods on earth!"

"No," Alec said flatly.

Blaise de Angelo smiled. "I hoped you�d say that. The workout will do us both a world of good. And after that� after that we get to the fun part... making up!"

Jenni considered calling Martine and asking if she could head over and spend the night with her friend.

Marty would agree, of course. Jenni knew her mate all too well, and they�d probably spend the rest of the night up with hot cocoa and Sarah McLachlan playing in the background, just talking and trying to support each other. She had been there (at least as much as a friend without financial resources could be) when Martine, visibly pregnant, had first moved out of home, and Martine had been there after her emotionally messy break up with Danny all those months ago. They were the sort of friends that could go to each other whenever something was really fucked up, and one could cry on the other without feeling self-conscious. But it wasn�t just what Sean had almost done to her. If things were that simple, and that was the only thing on her mind, Martine would be the perfect confidant. But it was more than just Sean.

This was about her.

She could have easily turned the tables on him and put the son of a bitch in hospital without really even breaking into a sweat. He had no real advantage, save perhaps being a little stronger than she was, but that shouldn�t have made a difference. It was hardly the case that he really caught her unawares with a sucker-punch, either. She had seen his slap coming, and done nothing to avoid it. She had frozen, choked, gotten stage fright. And she�d been totally helpless. If her mother hadn�t chosen that moment to get home, Sean would have fucked her, and she�d have done nothing to stop him. She felt nausea, disgust, and no small amount of self loathing. She was weak! A sad, pathetic little girl who couldn�t even scream to prevent her own rape.

How the fuck was she going to function for Alec if she couldn�t even save herself?

"Fear is a path to the dark side, young padawan."

She looked up and saw Nischa - as herself this time - standing before her. Despite the light tone and the painfully weak stab of humour, she could see concern in the violet eyes of the goddess and hated herself all the more for it. Jenni quickly turned away so Nischa wouldn�t see her fresh batch of tears. There was a short, awkward silence before she felt a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"It�s not your fault," the goddess whispered gently.

"What do you mean it�s not my fault?" Jenni demanded. "How the fuck can it be anything other than my fault? I fucking choked when I should have been breaking that arsehole�s goddamned fingers! If mum had been stuck in traffic, he would have-"

Nischa looked irritated. "Would have, yes, yes. Look, if your father would have been a woman your mother would have had a penis. Worry not about the �would have� bullshit."

"Wha-" Jenni looked utterly bewildered for a moment, before a slight smile showed itself.

Nischa raised a single perfectly formed eyebrow sceptically. "No, a half smile? Absolutely not! That certainly will not do, missy!" she muttered, dabbing away the streaks under Jenni�s eyes. "Let me try again, so there were these three blondes stuck on a desert island and-"

Jenni hide a half laugh behind a snort and swatted Nischa�s hand away, finishing off the task of wiping her eyes herself. "I�m having second thoughts�" she whispered morosely.

"I�m not," Nischa told her in a firm voice. "Look, I�m not trying to take any of the seriousness away from what happened, but you fucked up. Big deal! I�ve fucked up before, everyone has. The important thing is that you know you fucked up. Just admitting to yourself that you�re not perfect is the first step in truly seeking that elusive perfection."

Jenni just stared at her, looking like the poster child for universal misery.

"I could� take care of him if you want," Nischa offered gently. "No one would know, no one could prove a thing. He�d just� vanish."

"No." Jenni looked up, her eyes blazing and her jaw muscles clenched. "No!" she repeated, her voice stronger this time. "I�m going to deal with that piece of shit! Me, and only fucking me!" Her expression turned plaintive. "I know you�ve got no reason to trust me after what just happened, but please� I need to do this."

Nischa bowed her head, her voice suddenly sounding very tired. "Yes sweetie, I know you do� but you don�t need to do it this instant. Get some rest now, yeah? You�ve had a long day."

Jenni frowned, but made no move to stop her as Nischa tucked her into bed.

"Sleep now," Nischa murmured, leaning over to kiss Jenni�s forehead. Against her wishes, the brunette was in the land of nod mere seconds later. Nischa tucked a wayward lock of brown hair behind the sleeping girl�s ear and watched her protégé of a minute. The girl was too young for this and it wasn�t fair that any of them should be made to be anything other than the children they were. But there was nothing fair about life. A bemused expression on her face, she watched the sleeping girl for a few more minutes before leaving the bed and preparing to make her exit.

"I could get quite used to this motherhood business," she thought aloud with a smile.

And then she was gone.

"You�re late."

Lareina shot Liam a look of irritation. "I was� in the middle of something." She thought of the nubile young blonde she�d left cuffed to the bed in her suite. Stacey was a geography major at UT, doe-eyed, cute, and oh so ripe for the picking. There was nothing Lareina enjoyed more than breaking in new talent, and a pretty young freshman exploring her sexuality almost never failed to rock the Sigurdian�s boat. "So what�s the damn crisis anyway?"

Liam, well aware of his colleague�s tastes, was blunt. "It seems the Master�s protégé has got it fixed in her little mind that the Master�s son would make for a nice plaything."

"Oh, shit! Alec?"

"No, the other son� of course Alec!"

"Where? And where the hell is the rest of the Circle? I�d assume for a fucking crisis like this, you�d need everyone."

"Turnam South, the old Hancock base," Liam answered. "As for the others, we don�t have time. Carter and Matthew are already there, they were the ones shadowing Blaise tonight, and Walter should be joining them about now. I�ve taken the liberty of telling them not to intervene until we arrive."

Lareina�s eyes narrowed. "Then we�d better get a move on."

Alec bit back a scream of rage and pain as he picked his battered body off the dusty concrete floor.

"Come on, darling," Blaise taunted. "Is that the best you�ve got? I think I might have to revise my opinions of you, because you certainly aren�t proving worthy of my attentions."

He spat out a mouthful of blood and glared at her.

"Get fucked!"

"Ask nicely," she sneered, lashing out again. The blow struck him across the face hard enough to spin him around and knock him off his feet.

Hate is a very strong emotion� you must try to control it� you�ve seen what it can do� never let it control you. Harness it� never let it own you... His father�s words, spoken after he�d beaten Matt into a bloody pulp. It seemed like years ago now. All he felt was hate. And more than a little hurt. But mostly hate. Blaise was knocking him around like a fucking piñata, and he�d never even gotten within ten paces of her. The bitch was hitting him telekinetically, and she was using more brute force than he could meet and counter with his pulses. She wasn�t doing all that much damage, sure he�d have bruises enough to show the next day, but she clearly possessed more than enough power to beat him to death if she chose. That was what really got at him. The pain he could take. He�d taken it before, and hurt much more at the hands of mere fucking humans. The pain was dismissible. She was using but a fraction of her power to mop the floor with him and he hadn�t been able to do a damned thing about it.

This was about pride, damnit!

Alec forced himself to his feet again. The bitch wasn�t going to get away with this! He allowed himself a faint smile. Harness hatred, huh? Well, hate was something he was in no short supply of, and right now, levelling it all at this demented fucking slut was going to be piss easy. He wouldn�t let it control him though, he would let it fuel him, he would use it as a well from which he could draw power he couldn�t access otherwise. He focused, balling it all up as he felt it burn through him. It was much as he�d felt with Matt, but this time he wasn�t just seeing red. His mind was clearer, sharper, he had a target. One he could feel, one he could see, one he could make bleed.

His hands were the first obvious indicator. They began to glow with a faint, blue-tingled luminance that quickly brightened until he didn�t even need his pulses to see his surroundings. Tightening his fingers, he felt the resistance as the ether began to gather between his hands.

A look of consternation marred the redhead�s pretty face. He didn�t care. If she was half as perceptive as her powers suggested she would be, there was no way she couldn�t feel what he was doing. He didn�t care. Let her do her worst. He certainly was going to!

Alec had never done anything even remotely like this before, never manifested anything that was visible to the naked eye. He could see the energy now. Pure ether gathered before him, burning and pulsing, seemingly with a will of its own. It was literally alive, but he wasn�t able to decide whether or not it possessed any sort of sentient intelligence. It didn�t matter, he had called, and it had come. It would comply with his wishes. Time seemed to come to a virtual standstill around him but he felt curiously detached, a separate and distinct entity from the mortal world. Instead of unnerving him, he felt quite at ease like this, and it all made sense in a fashion. He belonged to this world, and at the same time, he did not. Part seraph, part human. That had to be why he could summon and handle raw ether without harm. Other mortals could summon it and to certain extents manipulate it, but none like this. And certainly none could gather so much, so quickly without it consuming them.

As the power continued to build, he realised just how finely tuned to it he was. He could feel the blood coursing slowly through his veins, blood that was more than just blood, but a living medium though which he could channel power. He wasn�t just drawing it from around himself, he was drawing it from within himself as well. Far more power than any mortal had any right to have. He kept pulling, kept demanding more even though he was sure he was now going completely into overkill territory. That bitch was the cause of more than a few problems, and his single most powerful enemy to date.

He wasn�t just going to blast her into hell, he was going to ensure there weren�t enough pieces of her left to go there!

The orb continued to grow as he channelled more and more power into it. He would have marvelled at the beauty of the blazing ether if he wasn�t so focused. Now was not the time to admire the bright glow surrounding him or the huge whitish orb of sizzling energy he held in his hands. In the back of his mind, he was aware that with the amount of power he was gathering, there would only be one shot. Knowing he wouldn�t have enough left for another, he reached deeper into himself, tore open what little restraint remained and poured it all out into the glowing orb in his hands. An orb that was now almost a foot in diameter. As the last of his reserves flowed into the orb, he smiled grimly. Ken, Ryu, eat your fucking hearts out!

With a scream of rage, he hurled the scintillating orb at the one person he hated the most.

In the fraction of a second needed for the etheric attack to reach its intended target, he saw Blaise smile. Then she was engulfed in raw energy as the fiery orb struck her. It didn�t just stop at her, but continued right past and smashed into the roller doors behind her. There was no explosion, but the energy tore through the alloy and then disappeared into the darkness beyond, filling the air with the stench of molten metal and deep fried ozone.

"Holy fuckin� shit!" Alec gasped, sinking to his knees, utterly drained. That attack was everything he had. The hate was gone now, purged from his system as it went to fuel the spell he had cast. He felt empty inside, completely burnt out. There was nothing left to give. He had never in his wildest dreams believed he�d be capable of something like that. It was clearly a spell, but not one he�d never heard of before. Just pure ether, gathered by intent and force of will, and then released as a ranged attack. He knew without a doubt that it was the currently - assuming he could ever summon the hatred to do it again - the single deadliest weapon in his inventory. Not even the metal of the roller door had been able to resist it and it had cut through that like a hot knife through butter.

Yet in spite of the orb�s insane destructive power he felt neither of relief nor jubilation. Just mind-numbing despair. The reason for that was all of twenty paces away.

"That�s more like it, lover," Blaise applauded, standing exactly where she had stood when the etheric orb had hit her, completely unharmed.

"Impressive," Lareina commented dryly, deliberately not making it clear whether she was referring to Alec�s use of raw ether as a weapon, or Blaise�s ability to survive it.

"What the fuck just happened? How can he even do that? WHAT the fuck was that?" Carter babbled, his eyes wide. Beside him, Matthew just nodded, clearly at a loss for words.

"Oh, grow up," she chastised. "Even you could do that if you actually put your mind to it." She cast the younger Sigurdians a depreciative stare. "Well, maybe not you two per se�"

"Cease your chatter, woman!" Liam ordered. "Now is not the time for your inane babble!"

Lareina glared at the ugly, vulture-faced man, but refrained from uttering an acidic reply. Now was probably not the best time to be baiting Liam. There would be time enough for that later, when he no longer led the Circle and was unable to lord his power over her. And then she would take her sweet time about it too, savouring the simple pleasures of rubbing his face in the mess he had made.

Assuming, of course, any of them actually survived Menthayel�s anger.

As Blaise closed the distance between them in her graceful, unhurried walk, Alec found he lacked even the energy to meet her on his feet. His muscles, pushed to their limits over the run that had got him here, and then totally wiped out when he put everything he had into his spell, simply refused to obey him. He tried to summon more anger, more hate, more anything, but between sheer exhaustion and utter despair, he failed miserably. He had given her his best shot, and she�d shrugged it off as nothing. What else could he possibly do? He didn�t even have enough left to produce the vaguest of pulses.

It just didn�t any more hopeless than this.

"Aw, da poor widdle baby burnt his self out," Blaise mocked, gently cupping his chin and tilting his head back. "Its okay, darling, you gave it your best shot, but hey, I�m a goddess! You had to have known deep down inside that you couldn�t really harm me."

"Actually," Alec managed to croak, "I was pretty sure I was going to tear you a new fucking orifice." He attempted to shrug indifferently, trying to hide his despair at the failure. "But hey, shit happens."

"A new fucking orifice? Darling, if you just wanted to fuck me, all you had to do was ask."

He wanted to spit at her, but his mouth was far too dry. Instead of making undignified hacking noises as he tried to produce enough phlegmy saliva, he opted for a throat-croakingly painful, but verbal retort. "Wasn�t so much that I wanted to fuck you, the aim was more like to fuck you up... got no need for another skank bitch whore."

"Bastard!" she hissed, drawing back her hand and slapping him hard across the cheek.

Timber! he thought morosely as his drained body toppled over and the concrete floor rushed up to meet his face. Chantelle� Dad� random bystanders with anti-angel weaponry� he thought wearily, help� appreciated� about now�

<I know you�re somewhat smarter than your comrades, and have a healthy dislike for the sort of death that is preceded by a whole lot of pain, which is about the only reason I�m even bothering to speak to you.>

Lareina frowned. The "voice" was clear, but oddly contained no hints of its sender�s identity. It was easy enough for a trained telepath to gain all sorts of details about the mind they were in contact with from the first sending. Gender was the most obvious, followed by an idea of how well trained the sender might be, and sometimes even an approximate age. With this sender, there was none of that. She discretely glanced at her colleagues. None appeared to have heard the interloper, or if they did, they showed no signs of doing so. Liam, Carter and Matthew seemed utterly engrossed by the drama unfolding before them.

<No, they can�t hear me,> the voice informed her.

<Who are you, and what do you want?> Lareina demanded. The Sigurdian was confused, and not a little unnerved by the strange voice. The four of them were huddled in a corner of the shed, behind wards that not only rendered them invisible to both mundane and magical senses, but protected them from the sort of power that had been hurled around only moments before. By rights, no one should have even been aware that they were there, much less be able to communicate with them.

<I don�t take well to threats,> Lareina replied with a feigned air of calm.

Lareina�s mind raced. Whoever she was speaking to obviously had enough power to bypass the best of their wards, and it wasn�t much of a stretch to suppose someone, or something with that sort of power could probably also sense the movements of the seraphim.

<Yes, yes, I am all powerful, all knowing, et cetera.> the unseen entity added with the telepathic equivalent of a smirk. <And yes, its not outside my power to track pissed off seraphim, or peruse your thoughts at my leisure. Now stop wasting my time by shortening yours!>

<But-> Lareina began.

<Ten seconds�> the voice told her, and then contact was broken.

Fuck! In the centre of the shed, Blaise was kneeling over Alec in triumph, and Lareina didn�t need to see the expression on Liam�s face to know his grin would have matched Blaise�s, albeit for completely different reasons. Carter and Matthew were too inexperienced to read between the lines or know any better. She didn�t especially care what happened to them as a direct result of being here, nor would she miss them anyway. She did, however, care very much about what happened to herself. Interfering now would piss Liam off, but there was a fairly good chance she might be able to survive that. Surviving Menthayel, on the other hand, was not even a possibility.

To hell with it! She focused her will, lowering the portion of the ward in front of her long enough to fire her own, much smaller etheric blast at Blaise�s back. The ether would do the redhead no real damage, but Lareina wasn�t concerned about inflicting damage. Alone, she wasn�t strong enough to do all that much to Blaise anyway, and a much stronger attack, other than taking up more time to release, would not have gone unnoticed long enough to prevent Liam from interfering. A short burst on the other hand, perfectly aimed, could tip the balance of favour considerably.

She was smiling even as Liam spun around furiously.

Blaise stepped over him, and then lowered herself gracefully into a kneeling position, one knee on each side of his torso. "Look at me," she commanded.

He felt her power manifest, and they were bathed in soft light. It was a simple spell that only provided enough light for them to see each other. That close to her, Alec was unable to ignore her blatant sexuality. The dress, though "belt" might have been a better description of it, did nothing to hide the fact that deranged or otherwise, Blaise possessed a body that would put a VS model to shame. Her outfit was essentially a two-piece affair, a front and a back that had half a dozen little straps complete with tiny buckles holding it together and leaving a good four inches of skin bare along her sides. To add diamond consistency to the painful erection that all that exposed skin induced, the dark fabric was so thin it was almost transparent. At much as he despised her, Alec couldn�t deny the fact that he wanted her.

He didn�t, couldn�t resist, even if he had the strength to turn his head away. She wasn�t a goddess, but she had the body of one, and he couldn�t help but feel the lust she projected. She placed his hands over her thighs and then held his head up as she gently stroked his cheek. "Look at me," she repeated, her voice low, husky, and undeniably sexy. Her skin was warm under his hands� he couldn�t think clearly. Without conscious thought, his hands moved up slowly, savouring every second of contact with her flesh. Then they were under the hem of that impossibly short skirt, lifting the gauzy material up as they went. She wore nothing underneath, and she gasped, arching her back and thrusting her pelvis forward as his fingers found her. She was wet, the air heavy with her scent. He could see her hardened nipples, straining behind the flimsy fabric� and he knew he�d lost the battle. He wanted her as much as she obviously wanted him.

He couldn�t resist now. It was over. She�d won.

Torn between lust and despair as she drew his head towards her chest, he decided that if he was going to lose his free will, and essentially everything that made him who he was, then this was a hell of a way to go. Getting fucked as a prequel to getting skull fucked.

He was breathing heavily, and not necessarily because of exhaustion, as she ground his face between her breasts. Her body was so warm, so soft, so yielding... he couldn�t fight her even if he wanted to. And damned it he even wanted to now. Noticing the sensation of heat against his forehead, he passed it of as merely what little blood that wasn�t south of his belt adding a little flush to his face. Then it got warmer - almost, but not quite, burning his skin. Opening his eyes slightly, he noticed the pendant around the redhead�s neck. It was almost at eye level, not two inches away. A strange piece of carved black rock, seven sided and hanging on an elegant, cross-linked silver chain. But that wasn�t the weird part, not by any stretch. Eight arrows, etched into the stone and extending outwards from the centre, glowed brightly with pulsing energy that had nothing to do with Blaise�s illumination spell. Alec had seen the symbol a few times before, but never like this. Never with obvious power. It appeared in the few occult books he�d bothered to read since learning of his abilities, and even Lesenthe had used a highly stylised version as a watermark for some chapters of Maleficia. Chapters that specifically referred to the "One above All".

The symbol was Chaos.

The supposed sigil of a deranged god.

Lust was forgotten in an instant. There was no denying this thing was the source of the redhead�s power. He couldn�t properly assess it, at least not without more research and a whole lot more study, but somehow, the pendant was the reason she felt like, and had the powers of, the seraphim. It also explained the human presence beneath the immortal exterior. She was just a jacked up human, high on some sort of angel juice! And the dispenser was right before his eyes.

If only he could somehow get it off her�

Something flared up behind them and Blaise abruptly lurched forward as if struck, knocking Alec back down again. Something landed on his chest, and unthinkingly, he grabbed it with his left hand as he tried to prop himself back up with his right. He felt the heat in his palm, and then just the vague tingling of power that had retreated back into its stony confines.

The pendant, separated from its mistress, was no longer active.

Blaise shrieked, nearly deafening him, her eyes wide with terror and more than a little craziness. "Give it back!" she screamed, throwing herself over him. Gone was any sense of conceit or superiority. She struck him repeatedly, her nails tearing into his flesh as she frantically tried to retrieve the pendant. Alec tried to shield himself from the worst of her blows, but now it was clear that she was no stronger than a human. Had he been at full strength, he could have subdued her one handed, and effortlessly. But he wasn�t at full strength, and her hysterical energy and determination looked like it would easily overturn the fact that she had nothing more than mundane strength at her command. He wouldn�t be able to hold out long, and if she got her hands on the pendant again, it would all be over.

There was no other option.

The knife was out of its sheath and in his hand only marginally slower than the thought that had ordered it. Gritting his teeth against what he was about to do, Alec drove the point hard into the girl�s side.

They felt the protective wards around them tear, and then they felt him, and his rage.

"Explain yourselves!" Menthayel roared as he appeared amongst them. He hadn�t bothered with a human guise, and appeared as he was; a terrible, beautiful creature of muscle and claw whose very being radiated power even as it filled the minds of those around him with pure terror.

"M-master�" Liam managed to squeak before the seraph cut him off with a withering glare.

"Silence! I shall deal with you later," Menthayel promised, his green eyes ablaze. "But first there are more pressing issues at hand." He exhaled slowly, and his form shimmered, shrinking until he again appeared as an older sibling of the boy they had all been watching a moment before. "Stay hidden until I call for you!"

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped outside the ward of invisibility.

"Dad?"

"Aleck." Menthayel nodded his greeting as he approached his son, who knelt by the bleeding redhead. "The Star, if you will." The angel held out him hand.

Alec handed over the no longer glowing pendant without hesitation. Whatever that thing was, it had clearly been the source of Blaise�s powers, and while he knew he should be tempted by it, he was far too busy being revolted by the fact it had almost allowed her to control him. For all he knew, it was probably the reason she was an utter mental case, too. He wanted nothing to do with it. At least not anytime soon. Menthayel glanced at the stone for a moment, and then slipped it into a pocket without a word of explanation.

"I can� explain."

Menthayel�s tight expression showed a pointed lack of humour. "Can you? This should prove interesting."

Alec quickly ran through the events that brought him here, starting from Blaise�s appearance at Elaine�s house, to the fight, and then the sudden reversal of fortunes when her strange pendant had landed on him. "I didn�t mean to�" he began nervously, "but I had to do something and-"

Menthayel silenced his son with a wave. "I understand. No, you were quite right to stab her. When you�re fighting for your life, fight to win. If it means killing someone before they kill you, then kill them without hesitation."

Alec swallowed uncomfortably, "I don�t think she was trying to kill me. Control me, probably, but if she just wanted me dead, she had more than enough time to do it. And� I didn�t actually kill her. There�s still time�"

For the first time, Menthayel spared a glance at the bleeding redhead on the floor between them. She was still conscious, moaning pitifully as she pressed both hands against the stab wound at her side in a vain attempt to staunch the bleeding. Blood poured out between her fingers, and she was already lying in a rather large pool of it. It didn�t take a genius to work out that without medical attention she�d very quickly bleed to death, assuming whatever internal damage she�d already suffered didn�t kill her first.

"No," the seraph agreed in a tone utterly lacking compassion, "you didn�t actually kill her. It�s a small matter though, she�ll have lost enough blood soon enough."

"You� y-you aren�t going to try to save her?"

Menthayel regarded his son quizzically. "Were you expecting me to?"

"But you can�t just let her die!" Alec protested. He had fully intended to kill Blaise himself, or seriously hurt her at the very least, but intending to kill her in a fight was one thing, seeing her beaten and bleeding at his feet, and then still intending to kill her was another thing entirely. He wasn�t prepared to just stand by and watch her bleed to death. That was just a little too fucking cold blooded for his liking. Standing back and watching her life trickle out between her fingers as she lay helpless at his feet was no better than stabbing her again and again until she finally did die. She certainly wasn�t some poor sweet innocent, but waiting for her die without even a token attempt to save her just felt wrong!

"I think you�re about to find I can just let her die," Menthayel calmly told him son. "You said it yourself, she had you beaten until you got hold of her pendant. At any point around then did it look like she was going to go easy on you after it was clear she won?" Alec grudgingly shook his head. "Then I rest my case. She wasn�t about to show you any mercy. I fail to see why either of us is obligated to show her any."

"But to just let her die like this? Look, I know her power came from that... thing. I felt it when I held it, but couldn�t we just� I don�t know, patch her up and then blank her mind or something? Give her a totally new life?"

Menthayel shook his head. "We can�t. There�s much more to this than you understand Aleck. Take my word for it, much more. If you hadn�t dealt her that blow, then I would have. I understand that it might be hard for you to accept right now, but this is the only way. She has to die. If not by your hand, then by mine."

"I don�t understand it," Alec growled, "and I definitely don�t fucking like it!"

"You have no choice in the matter," his father told him in a voice that didn�t leave room for argument. "There is still too much at play here for you to understand just yet, but for what its worth, if you knew the things this woman has used her powers to do, you would understand that in death, she�s getting off easy."

"Even then, who the fuck gives us the right to decide whether she lives or dies!"

Menthayel�s eyes hardened. "This is not the time for that discussion. We do what we must, and we pay the prices that we must. In time, you�ll understand that what happened here tonight needed to happen."

"I fucking doubt it," Alec snapped, glaring at his father furiously. "I obviously can�t force you to save her but I�m not going to just stand here and watch her bleed. You can go right ahead if that�s what you want, but I�m not going to play any further part in this."

As he turned away so his father wouldn�t see his frustrated tears, he quietly added, "I�ve already done enough don�t you think?"

Without another word, he left the shed and let the night take him.

Alec felt tired, weak, confused, and very, very angry as he crossed the train tracks on his way home. The battle with Blaise had drained him to the point of exhaustion, and the part he�d played in her death - no, murder, he corrected himself - left him with a bad taste in his mouth and yet another bout of rage.

"Alec," called a voice from the opposite side.

Cursing under his breath, Alec dashed across the tracks. He reached out and took Raphael�s hand, allowing himself to be pulled up on to the platform.

"You look like hell," the bald mage greeted him with a grin. "What happened?"

"I don�t really want to talk about it," Alec said, wishing that Raphael would simply go away. He was in no mood to deal with the prick just then.

"Oh? That bad, eh?"

"Yeah, that bad."

"Anything I can do?"

Yeah, you can fuck off and die. "No. I�m cool."

"Have you given any thought to our offer?" Raphael asked, falling into step with Alec.

"Not really. I�ve been a bit� preoccupied."

Raphael nodded in that annoying way of his, as though he understood. His expression looked forced, almost as though� Alec�s eyes narrowed as he felt the familiar tingle, and his senses quickly revealed Raphael�s whip probe.

Anger exploded anew behind his eyes. Without breaking stride, Alec hit the probe with what little power he�d had been able to recover since dealing with Blaise. He didn�t have all that much, but it was still more than enough to deal with the job at hand. He watched the probing tendril shudder, then explode. Raphael screamed, clutching his head, and feel to his knees. Grabbing him in a full-body vibratory net, Alec hurled him hard against the brick wall of the rail office and held him there. Though drained, he still had ample energy to hurl at this fucking piece of shit. Compared with the staggering, raw power of Blaise, Raphael was as nothing.

"Listen to me, you self-serving cunt," Alec snarled, "stay the fuck out of my mind."

"Alec, I-" Raphael choked.

"NO!" Alec bellowed full into his face. "I will never be one of you. Not now, not fucking ever! Get it into your head. If I see you following me again, I�ll fucking kill you!"

Storming away, he realised that he�d meant it. If he ever laid eyes on the son of a bitch, he�d do away with him as quickly and as easily as he would a bothersome fly. He thought of Blaise, and to a much lesser extent the lupines that he had fought with Katya. There was already blood on his hands, a little more wouldn�t change anything. He also realised that the wall of energy he�d used to hold Raphael was still in place. He left it there a few minutes before mentally dismissing it. It was just as satisfying as having his fingers wrapped around his neck. Well� almost.

Alec lit a cigarette as he walked. Blaise was now out of the way and, hopefully, that prick Raphael now knew better. If he didn�t feel so goddamn sick about the mess that had become his life, he�d almost believe things were starting to look up.

Jenni stepped out of the shower feeling just as dirty as she�d felt when she entered it.

She knew the classic mental effects of rape, even if Sean hadn�t actually penetrated her. He�d made her feel powerless, he�d forced himself on her. He�d hit her, hurt her. Tried to use her. If it hadn�t been for her mother�s timely arrival, he would have succeeded, too. Entering her bedroom, she locked the door behind her and dressed quickly, strapping her daggers securely to her back and ankle as usual and wondering what it would feel like to push the razor-edged steel into that bastard�s soft, hairy beer belly. Tears rose again suddenly, and she shook her head angrily. She was not going to feel guilty about this. It was not her fault. It was his fault. He deserved to be punished for it, not her. He was the criminal, and he deserved to be treated like one. Setting her jaw and nodding silently, she resolved to call the police. She�d go out and make the call from somewhere safe, where he couldn�t touch her.

Shoving her phone, keys and cigarettes into her pocket, she unbolted the door and heard a sound that froze her blood. Sean speaking in a false, happy voice, saying goodbye to her mother. She wanted to scream immediately, attract her mother�s attention, stop her from leaving, but for the second time in twenty-four hours she locked up. She heard the sound of Sean�s sandals slapping the floor as he approached her bedroom - the bastard didn�t even have the decency to wait until her mother was gone before coming after her. She watched him approach in slow motion as she listened to the unmistakable sound of her mother�s car exiting the driveway. She was all alone.

With him.

Sean sneered at her as he drew level, and reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. Jenni shied away, her body trembling slightly as he laughed. "Not so smug now are you, you little slut? If you ask real nice I won�t be so rough with you this time. You gonna� ask nicely, bitch?"

A single tear trickled down her cheek. Sean saw it and laughed harder, then suddenly punched her hard in the stomach. Taken by surprise, she went straight to her knees, gasping.

"I asked you a question, bitch!" he snarled. "Now fucking answer me! You want to do this easy, or do I have to hurt you again?"

Like a lock being sprung, Jenni felt her muscles tighten reflexively. Aside from Logan driving home a point early on in Boot, no one but Sean had ever slapped her before, but a punch was something she could understand. Something she could react to... something she�d been trained to defend against. Her perspective changed suddenly, and she no longer saw Sean simply as a person who wanted to hurt her. He was now just an adversary. An enemy.

Jenni got to her feet slowly, staring at her feet.

"G-gentle," she whispered, stammering intentionally as she brought her gaze up slowly to meet Sean�s. What she saw there strengthened her resolve. Lust, tempered with anger. Hatred. He didn�t just want to fuck her, he wanted to completely dominate her, and he genuinely enjoyed hurting her to do it.

"That�s more like it," Sean sneered, cupping her chin and stroking the wet trail of tears down her cheek. "Tell me what you want."

Jenni�s fingers curled, shaking, around his hand. "P-lease," she whispered.

"Please what?"

Sean�s eyes widened briefly as the previously timid, trembling touch turned iron hard, then screamed as Jenni brought her heel down fiercely on his unprotected upper foot. Bones snapped audibly as she trapped his right hand with her left, gripping the thumb and twisting outward, putting painful pressure on bone and ligament. He want down awkwardly on one knee, tears springing into his eyes.

"Please get your fucking hands off me!" Jenni snarled, her voice cold and hard as stone as she pressed the point of a dagger under his chin. Sean�s eyes widened with fear. Then he did the last thing she could have expected... he started to cry.

"P-please," he whimpered. "Please... I�m sorry."

"Sorry?" Jenni whispered, taken aback by this sudden burst of emotion. "You�re sorry?" He tried to grab her with his other hand, and she twisted harder, shoving the dagger point roughly into his soft flesh until he stopped struggling, grimacing with pain.

She put her foot against his chest, released his hand, and kicked him away from her. "I�m calling the police," she spat, disgusted.

"Bitch!" Sean hissed, still cradling his hand and regaining some of his anger. "They won�t fucking believe you!" He got up on his knees again and stared at her, regaining his sneer.

Jenni didn�t make a decision to strike. One moment she was staring at him with hatred, the desire to hurt him burning in her chest, the next she�d slashed backhanded with the dagger, taking him across the cheek. Sean shrieked and fell back, clutching his face. She�s split his cheek open, from under the ear, all the way to the corner of his mouth. It would leave a nice scar. A reminder he�d have with him for the rest of his fucked up life. Every time he looked into a mirror he�d see what he gotten for treating her like shit and making her feel worse. As Logan had once said in passing; nothing bleeds as dramatically the human head.

Sean�s face was a good example.

"Don�t bother telling anybody who did this," Jenni hissed in a voice that was much firmer than she felt, "because they won�t fucking believe you. And don�t you ever come near me again. I keep this with me twenty-four seven," she hefted the dagger. "And the next time you so much as breathe in my fucking direction, I swear to God I�ll mess your face up so bad your own fucking mother wouldn�t recognise you!"

She turned on her heel and walked out, taking a quick look at her blade before slipping it back into its sheath. The strike had been so quick that the flawless cutting edge was still clean.

She was already seated on one of the Garden�s stone benches when he arrived.

"That was harsh," Nischa commented.

Menthayel executed a vaguely deferential bow, little more than a small nod. "Unnecessarily so?" he asked mildly.

Nischa shrugged. "He survived. That is all that�s important to me."

"You still haven�t told me the reason behind your interest in my son."

"For now, I still do not deem it relevant. I care about his welfare, and you already have my word that I will not, by intent or action, harm him."

"Then, for now, that will have to do," Menthayel told her. "A question if you would, Lady. You weren�t perchance involved in that little matter concerning a broken chain and the opportune reversal of fortunes were you?"

Nischa smiled innocently. "Do you take me for a meddlesome old woman?"

Menthayel fixed her with a flat look, but did not answer.

The Mistress of the Void chuckled. "There exists the possibility that I might have aided one of your lackeys to reach the belief that a well-aimed etheric bolt, cast at the right moment and at a specific target, could have some beneficial outcomes to most of those present. Then again, had you arrived a little earlier, none of that would have been necessary."

"I thought as much," Menthayel sighed. He briefly considered explaining that the wards his own Sigurdians had set up around the shed had been the cause of his delay, and his diminished powers had prevented him from locating them as fast as he would have liked, but decided against it. The internal squabbles of his Order were not the concern of the Grey Lady. "Let me guess, Lareina Kristiansen?"

"Assuming I am, indeed, a meddlesome old woman, she would have been the logical choice. The head of your Order seems to bear Aleck some ill will, and the other two lack� finesse. I�d imagine they�d have trouble hitting anything smaller than a barn door at ten paces."

"I see. Not quite the outcome I would have hoped for, but the end result is far from unpleasing. As you pointed out, the boy survived, and that is a very important milestone indeed."

Nischa smiled absently. Leaving her bench, she uncharacteristically began pacing the length of the clearing, her head bowed in thought. Menthayel�s eyes followed her, but the seraph refrained from comment. Finally she stopped and stared at him, her brows furrowed. "So your project will continue?"

Menthayel nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. "As you know it must, Lady. As you know it must."

Alec arrived home more tired and battered than he�d ever felt in his life. He flopped down on his bed and let his hair down, glad that he hadn�t run into his aunt and uncle on the way in - he didn�t want to have to explain his state to them after all he�d been through tonight.

"And I thought getting beat up in school was bad," he groaned as he kicked his shoes off and stretched out. The fight had been close. Too damned close. After all he�d learned since his powers kicked in, he still felt like he had a lot to learn. He�d taken his power for granted, and it had almost cost him his life. Those powers made him a target, and he couldn�t help wondering how long it would be before the next enemy came along. His eyes trailed aimlessly around his room, eventually falling on his desk, and the journal Raphael had given him. So much for tests.

Despite his weariness, Alec hauled himself to his feet and sat down on his swivel chair, gazing intently at the clasp. Obviously this was something Raphael thought he was capable of, but the problem still stumped him. For the umpteenth time this night, Alec felt unequal to the challenge. Nothing in either of Lesenthe�s two books mentioned anything about penetrating solid matter. Slipping into greyscale, he pondered the problem. There were no seams or openings his pulses could find, and the space around the locking mechanism itself was too tight. What he needed to do was somehow pass through the metal and get at the lock inside.

Refining the pulses, he focussed on the top plate, willing them to pass through. After spending several minutes trying to make the pulses tinier and more subtle, he began to see the barest shadow of the mechanism underneath. Exultant, he tried to spring the lock, and the image instantly disappeared, his focus lost.

"Shit!"

"Having fun?"

Alec spun in his chair and saw Chantelle lounging on his bed, a smile playing across her lips.

"No," he answered sullenly. "I can�t get this damned thing open."

"I can see why," she said, getting up and crossing the room to stand next to him. "You�re going about it the wrong way."

"What do you mean?"

"Imagine trying to use a pair of chopsticks with your feet," she explained, the smile still in place. "You might be able to get it to work eventually, but it�s a hell of a lot easier to just use your hands."

"So how the hell else am I supposed to do this?" Alec demanded, slightly annoyed.

"Intellectus," Chantelle explained patiently, "is the angelic ability to know what they need or desire to know at any given point in time. Christian mythology has gone a bit overboard with the definition there, but it�s still true up to a point. You have senses far beyond what normal humans possess. You need to know what is inside that lock, correct?" Alec nodded. "So rather than messing around with shooting pulses at the lock, why don�t you make the pulses appear inside the lock?"

"That makes no sense," Alec protested. "If the pulses can�t bounce back to me, how am I supposed to see anything?"

"You�re still thinking in terms of normal physics. Remember what I said on the train about thinking about things the wrong way? The pulses are your brain�s way of explaining a sense that defies explanation. If the pulses help you see, put them inside. Don�t bother thinking about how you�re doing it, just do it."

"That still doesn�t make sense," Alec grunted.

"So? Give it a try."

"Fine." Closing his eyes, Alec reverted to greyscale and looked intently at the lock. It couldn�t be more than a half-millimetre thick at most. He focussed the pulses once more, and tried to push them beneath the surface of the lock, and failed immediately.

"Inside the lock," Chantelle reminded him.

"How the hell do I get them inside if I can�t get in there?" Alec protested.

"Don�t try to make them pass through the lock. Just make them appear inside."

Grumbling, Alec tried again. Focussing his sight at a point slightly below the surface, he summoned the familiar pulsing sensation... and was immediately rewarded with a view of the simple locking mechanism. His eyes opened and flicked to Chantelle, his jaw wide with amazement.

"You know, one of these days you�ll learn to trust me," she said wryly.

"From now on," Alec promised, turning his attention back to the lock and easily springing it. "But... how?"

"How what?"

"How did I make the pulses get in there? And how did they bounce back to me? There�s no opening."

Chantelle sighed, and paused a moment in thought before answering. "As I said earlier, the pulses are your brain�s way of explaining a sense that really can�t be explained. The pulses are extensions of yourself, and unlike humans, they don�t need to be in direct contact with you to still be a part of you. It�s like detaching your ears and putting them in a room across the hall - it shouldn�t be possible, but it is. That is the nature of Intellectus, and the reason angels are thought to be the repositories of all the knowledge in the universe. It is your father�s legacy to you, Alec - the ability to know at a distance."

"So I can do this at any distance? I can just put the pulses somewhere and immediately see what�s going on?"

"Try," said Chantelle.

Alec closed his eyes once more and concentrated on the living room downstairs. It was a lot more difficult to place the pulses at this distance, but after a few minutes he managed to get a very faint, hazy vision of a few objects in the room. To his surprise, he also heard the faint sound of the television, and his aunt and uncle talking. He looked questioningly at Chantelle.

"Let me guess... very faint?"

"Yeah," said Alec, shaking his head tiredly. "And I could hear."

"Seeing as you�ve only used the pulses close-up, you wouldn�t have noticed hearing anything because your normal ears were close enough to pick up sound themselves. At this distance, I�m surprised you were able to get anything at all. You�re a Nephelim - only part angel, and therefore have only part of the sensory array of a full-fledged seraph. You�re also weak after the fight tonight."

"You know about that?"

Chantelle nodded. "Yes." She came closer and put her hands on Alec�s shoulders, looking him directly in the face. "You did well tonight, Aleck. I�m proud of you."

"Even about..." Alec found himself unable to talk about his murder of Blaise.

"Even that part, yes," she answered. "I won�t pretend to be happy that it was necessary, Aleck, but you accounted for yourself very well tonight. Better than I could ever have expected."

Alec nodded, looking at his feet.

Chantelle tipped his chin up with a finger and looked into his eyes. "Sometimes we have to do things, not because we want to, but because we have to. It�s been a long night for you, and I think you should get some sleep." She paused for a moment. "I love you, Aleck," she whispered, folding him into a hug.

"I love you, too," Alec whispered in return. He felt the weight of the world, which seemed to have been pressing in on him since he�d first sensed Blaise�s presence, was finally lifted, and in its place was an overwhelming weariness. She was right, he needed to get to sleep. Sleepily turning toward his bed, he allowed Chantelle to undress him and help him under the covers, and was asleep almost before she turned the light out.

"Goodnight, my son," Chantelle whispered inaudibly as she kissed his forehead.

The sign above the shop was barely intelligible.

Comparing the name to the shred of notepaper a friend had given him earlier, Loren Russell gingerly pushed open the old wooden door, wincing as the high pitched chime above his head startled him. The interior of the shop was badly lit - deliberately, he suspected, to further the impression of the esoteric mumbo-jumbo this place was supposed to deal with.