The Nephelim - Chapter 7

Spineless from the start,
Sucked into the part.
Circus comes to town,
You play the lead clown.

Please, please.
Spreading his disease
Living by his story.
Knees, knees.
Falling to your knees.
Suffer for his glory.

You will.

Time for lust,
Time for lie.
Time to kiss your life goodbye.
Send me green,
Send me green.
Heaven you will meet.
Make a contribution and you�ll get a better seat.

Bow to Leper Messiah.

Leper Messiah
Metallica

The nightly walk had become something of a ritual for Alec of late. He preferred to go it alone rather than with his two friends, though sometimes Chantelle would accompany him or pop up along the way. It was his quiet time. He’d had plenty of quiet time before, of course – that came as part and parcel with having no friends – but now that he had something to do most of the time, he missed his own space and took an hour or two each night just to be by himself. Wandering alone through the night, he’d either lose himself in the quietness of shadows or find spot under a streetlight to write in the journal he’d taken to carrying around. Sometimes, like tonight, he’d just walk about, lost in thought, and not paying any particular attention to anything. That was, he supposed, how Raphael had managed to sneak up on him.

“How’d you know where I was?” he asked as they walked along the train tracks.

“I know your haunts pretty well by now. You walk almost the same route every night, you know.”

“Actually, no. I’ve seen you a few times when I was visiting a friend in the area.”

“I never really thought I had a set path,” admitted Alec. “I guess I should change my route.”

Raphael considered for a moment before speaking again. “I’d like to invite you to a Meet tonight, Alec – a gathering of the Order’s members in this area. We’re starting in about an hour or so. Would you like to join us?”

“Sure,” said Alec, nodding thoughtfully. Raphael had only told him a little about the Order itself and its practices, sticking to vague facts that, while interesting, gave little in the way of real information. This would be his chance to get an insider’s peek into what seemed like a rather enigmatic group.

“I’d hoped you would. It’s being held in a member’s house in Tremaine Terrace. Not too far from Turnam State, actually.”

“Close to home?” Raphael finished, a bemused grin on his face. “Well, we have members all around the country, and a large number in this city alone.”

“Seeing as you’re coming, though, I need to ask a favour. A few favours, in fact.”

Raphael stopped walking, motioning for Alec to follow, and took a few steps away from the tracks. “Firstly, I need your word on a few things. Nothing serious, but it is necessary,” he said, noting Alec’s puzzled expression.

“Firstly, you’re going to meet some people tonight. You must agree never to divulge any information about them to outside parties. This includes their names, any personal information they choose to give you, and anything you hear about them from other members. You must also agree not to attempt to contact any of them without my knowledge and permission.”

“Secondly, the Order is a private group. Our beliefs and practices are to be kept in the strictest confidence. This includes any conclusions or opinions you may draw as a result of attending tonight’s Meet.”

“Sure.” Alec shrugged. A ‘vow of silence’ didn’t seem like a high price to pay. Who was he going to tell anyway? Marc or Allen wouldn’t give a crap, and he’d much rather his guardians not know what he was dabbling in.

“Call it a silly tradition, if you like, but that’s the way this goes.” He held out his hand, palm upwards. “Your hand, please?”

“Good.” Raphael released his hand, and they began walking again. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it?”

“Ah, you noticed that?” Raphael chuckled. “Yes, it was scripted, but it’s part of the deal. If you hadn’t gone along I wouldn’t have allowed you to come tonight.”

“I see. You’re getting closed-mouthed again. Something you don’t want to tell me?”

“Not really. Don’t worry, I’ll answer any questions you have later tonight. This is where we leave the tracks. Follow me.” With a few steps run up, Raphael leapt up to catch the top of the fence closing off the rail line and jumped over.

Alec did the same, landing softly a few steps away. “After you,” he said with a sweeping bow.

The walk didn’t take too long, and soon Alec and Raphael stood on the steps of a modest-looking flat only a few blocks from Turnam State. The door was answered by a fairly short man in his twenties with neatly-clipped red hair.

“Good evening, Graeme,” said Raphael jovially, shaking his hand as they were led inside. “This is Alec.”

“Good to meet you, Alec,” said Graeme with a friendly smile as he ushered them in. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”

The flat was decorated in a neatish ‘twenty-something’ style. Though it lacked the discarded stubbies and classic cinder-block bookcase, the furniture was generic and mismatched. The living room was in dire need of a new coat of paint and everything that could possibly gather dust was covered with it. A massive entertainment system dominated one wall of the living room, making Alec smirk. He recognised a bachelor pad when he saw one.

Graeme, host of the event, ducked into the kitchen for a round of beers and Alec and Raphael made themselves comfortable on an ancient-looking leather couch.

“The rest should be here in a few minutes,” Raphael remarked, accepting a drink from the host. “We’re early.”

“So what goes on at these ‘Meets’ of yours?” Alec inquired, looking at Graeme and tapping his cigarette packet questioningly. Graeme nodded and passed over an ashtray.

“You’ll see soon enough,” answered Raphael in his usual enigmatic fashion.

“He does that,” said Graeme with a laugh. “You get used to it after awhile.”

They hadn’t finished their beers by the time the next set of guests arrived – a blonde couple in their late teens who were introduced to Alec as Tristan and Trish, and trailing behind them, was a familiar face. Jana, the wraith Alec had met the night the lupine had come within a hairs breath of sending him to the next plane of existence.

“I didn’t realise you’d be here,” Alec said, shaking the brunette’s hand.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she told him with a wide grin. Declining their host’s offer of a drink, Jana took a seat between Alec and Raphael on the couch leaving Tristan and Trish to occupy the last overstuffed lounge chair. Alec had initially thought they might have been siblings, but revised that thought based on their seating arrangement alone. Kids might playfully sit on each other, but these two were clearly at an age where that sort of thing was frowned upon. But either way, he didn’t feel comfortable enough to mention it.

Sitting space in Graeme’s living room was further diminished as Yumi, a twenty-ish girl with Asian features, sauntered in, closely followed by the tall, lanky Simon.

“Sure,” said Graeme. “This way, everybody.” He led them into the dining room and they arrayed themselves around a large, round table. Looking about the group Alec was less than surprised to see that the membership base (for this meeting, at least) consisted of people in their teens or early twenties. No real ‘grown ups’ to be found, although they all behaved with polite maturity.

Raphael rapped the pommel of his dagger on the tabletop to get everyone’s attention. “By now everybody will have met Alec, but I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce him formally. Like most of us, Alec discovered a few ‘talents’ recently, and I’ve placed him under the wing of the Order until such a time as he decides to stay with us as a Member or go his own way. I’ll leave it up to him to tell you what he wishes about himself, but I’d like to get the ball rolling by having us all introduce ourselves. My name is Raphael, and I’m a ritual magickian. I’ve been practising since the age of thirteen and joined the Order shortly after I discovered my abilities. Jana?”

Jana smiled. “My name is Jana, I’m a wraith, and I discovered my ability at the age of ten. I’ve been a member since I was seventeen.”

“Simon,” said the next around the table. “Psychic, slight psychokinetic abilities. Joined when I was nineteen.”

“Yumi. Psychokinetic, slight psychic abilities.” She grinned at Simon, who smiled in return.

Alec nodded, and realised that seven pairs of eyes were focused directly on him. Everybody was waiting for him to speak.

“Uh, I’m Alec. I’m not really sure what I am. I just realised recently that I can… do things. Psychokinetic, I guess, plus some other stuff.” A few of the assembled nodded appreciatively. Alec sensed that he was among people he could talk to. Really talk to. These people were peers that actually stood a chance at understanding him. Now wasn’t the time, though.

“That’s that taken care of,” said Raphael. “Does anybody have any business from our last Meet?”

“Last month’s working is moving along well,” said Graeme. “I’ll have a full report ready for the next Meet.” Those around the table nodded but no one offered to clarify the matter for Alec’s benefit. Alec, still feeling like the proverbial outsider despite the kinship he was feeling, decided against asking for more information, content, for the moment at least, to remain a silent observer.

“Simon, Yumi, I believe you have a subject for us tonight?” Raphael prompted.

Simon produced a slim briefcase, from which he took a manila folder. “The subject is Peter Rossvale, a Baptist minister from Turnam East.” He produced a photocopied photograph and a few newspaper clippings from the folder and spread them out on the table. “He was charged for sexual offences involving a minor, carnal knowledge of a minor under the age of fifteen, and rape involving a minor under the age of fifteen.”

“Without a doubt,” said Yumi firmly. “He was acquitted three weeks ago – you probably saw it on television. There was a big public uproar about it, and the usual word-wanking from church officials, resulting in nothing. I scried him out on six different occasions, as you will see in my report. He’s a real piece of work, this one. It’s not enough for him to violate them. He needs to hurt them.”

“What do you mean you ‘scried’ him out?” Alec interrupted, shooting Yumi a blank look.

“Sort of like crystal ball gazing,” Yumi explained, “except I use a bowl full of black ink. Technically, it falls under ritual magick, which isn’t really my forte, but I do it from time to time, being vaguely psychic helps…”

“Of course!” she said, laughing. “Wouldn’t bother staining a perfectly good bowl otherwise.”

Alec shook his head ruefully. “Sorry. I guess I’m still getting used to this.”

Yumi graced him with an amused grin. “That’s cool. The average person out there wouldn’t believe it either.”

Yumi dropped her ‘cute’ face and donned another, much colder than the first. “Death,” she echoed.

“Do we have any objections?” Raphael mildly inquired. The assembled group remained silent in their condemnation. “Good. Suggestions?”

“Without doubt,” said Simon firmly. “That’s one thing the papers don’t know about, and is the one thing he actually feels guilt over. He broods about it almost constantly. He went a little… too far, in one of his… games.”

“Remorse is good,” Jana muttered thoughtfully. Her dark eyes travelled from face to face, “Perhaps a haunt is in order…” After noting the solemn nods from the members, she glanced at Alec and added, “I can project a ‘ghost’ of etheric substance into the subject’s vicinity. In this case I’ll fashion the ghost after the image of the girl – it was a girl, wasn’t it?” she interjected to Simon, who nodded, “and pay him a visit. Hopefully, in this case, it will drive him to suicide.”

Alec was shocked by the nonchalant manner in which she said this. Hearing someone talk about emotionally and mentally torturing somebody, even a rapist and murderer, chilled his blood. Sure, the guy deserved to be punished, but like this…? They were sitting here calmly playing judge, jury and executioner with someone’s life. The man might have been an utter swine, but did that give these people the right to mentally torture him to the point of suicide?

“Fitting in this case,” Tristan remarked. “Shall we put it to the vote?”

“All in favour of Jana’s ‘assisted’ suicide?” Raphael asked. Everyone but Alec nodded. “It’s settled, then. Trish and Tristan, it’s your turn. Any ideas?”

“Up the guilt, obviously,” Trish suggested, her expression dreamy. “Impotence wouldn’t hurt, either, while we up the lust. Build the frustration so he’ll be in a fragile state of mind when Jana’s ‘ghost’ comes calling. Pity we don’t have something of his, though. That’d make things easier for this sort of working.”

“Almost forgot,” said Simon, reaching into his case. He tossed a large plastic baggie onto the table. Inside was a rumpled handkerchief.

“Perfect,” Trish said, smiling. Closing her eyes and tilting her head back slightly, she dragged one long perfectly manicured nail across the baggie, and exhaled slowly. To Alec, it seemed as if she’d suddenly transported her mind elsewhere. The pretty blonde girl almost looked like she was getting off on what she was going. That was more than a little freaky! Then her eyes snapped open, once again alert and ice cold. “Where’d you find it?” she purred.

“His car,” answered a clearly bemused Yumi. “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch it. Picked it up with the baggie.”

“That about wraps it up, then,” declared Raphael. “Simon, Yumi, if you could provide Jana with relevant information on our subject’s victim and give Trish a photograph?”

“In that case, I declare this Meet over. I’ll expect a full report from all concerned at the next Meet. I’ll contact each of you later with the time and venue.”

Alec leaned back against the brick fence surrounding Graeme’s flat. Raphael had asked him to wait for a bit while he took care of something inside, and Alec used the time to collect his thoughts. He shook his head for the hundredth time that night. All well and good to hear people rant and rave about what they’d do to a paedophile if they ever caught up with him. It was another case when those concerned were actually capable of carrying out their threats. After all he’d seen, scepticism wasn’t an option. That left… what, fear?

“Tonight’s Meet was just a brief one to catch up on our business for the month. We hold larger ones quarterly.” He looked Alec squarely in the eye. “But what did you think?”

“Look, I’m not about to go on some fucking moral crusade, but I just watched a group of people calmly decide to kill somebody. From the sound of it you guys could have been deciding whether to eat McDonalds or KFC for lunch.”

Raphael brought his empty hand up before Alec’s eyes and seemingly drew a short, black cigarillo out of thin air. Alec raised an eyebrow but still accepted the cancer stick as Raphael twitched his fingers once more, producing another.

“And a useful one at times,” said Raphael, suddenly holding his curved dagger. “But that’s all that was. A trick.” He re-sheathed the weapon in a shoulder rig before continuing. “But we’re not stage conjurers or street magicians. Our workings are real. No sleight of hand or misdirection. It’s real, and that makes us rare – but not unique. For every gifted or skilled individual in the Order’s ranks there are hundreds more out there. Of that number, many are hostile to us.”

“The same reason anybody else would be hostile. They are suspicious, or fear a rival power. Magick users are still human, or at least have human emotions and biases.”

Alec’s eyes widened as realisation took hold. “You were using him as target practise.”

Raphael nodded. “Defence is basic training in most occult paths. The student starts there and moves on to more advanced practices. Very rarely do the majority actively practice offensive tactics, but the majority are mundane and not the threat. One thing we can count on is that our enemies, those that actually intend to harm us, do know how to attack, and how to attack well. If we can’t attack in turn, we can’t survive.” He chuckled quietly, “it’s a dog eat dog world that we live in Alec, and seeing as there’s little we can do to change that, we fully intend to be the ones with the sharpest teeth.”

“No. It doesn’t. Why do you think we use subjects like the one tonight? The law would never have caught him. He’s too smart and too well protected by the church. How many little children have we saved without their ever knowing it?” Raphael paused. “We don’t kid ourselves by saying we’re performing a public service, but the idea helps us sleep at night.” He looked up at the stars, and Alec decided to let him be whilst he took the time to digest Raphael’s viewpoint.

Could he really be a party to this? He quickly became lost in thought himself. The events of the evening played themselves over in his mind. He’d developed friends after his change, and with them, a sense of self-worth that simply wasn’t possible before, but along with it came a feeling of loneliness that went far beyond his former social outcast status. He was different, and different in a wholly new way. From geek to freak in less than a year. Despite the Order’s blasé attitude to what he considered no less than cold-blooded murder, he felt a kinship with them, even though he wasn’t exactly the human being they thought him to be. They were practitioners of something higher, as was he. Shaking his head again, he put the cigarillo between his teeth and lit it. It was a lot stronger than a cigarette and rather aromatic. He exhaled the thick, clingy smoke as he pondered the situation. Morally bankrupt, but in some ways they were more like him than Allen or Marc. Different, even, to Chantelle and his father. He ran through what he remembered of each member’s mannerisms, Jana was quiet, thoughtful, and quite likeable, Yumi; alternatively playful and malicious, Simon; standoff-ish and seemingly indifferent to anyone but Yumi, Graeme; polite and courteous, but their host hadn’t even blinked when the sentence of death had been decided upon. He didn’t quite know what to make of Tristan, but Trish was decidedly unsettling. The blonde girl was more than a little attractive, but she’d practically creamed herself dreaming of ways she could torture someone into suicide. That girl was clearly fucked up. And Raphael, Raphael was probably the oddest of the lot…

Something caught his attention and he shook his head again. Like a mosquito buzzing around his head. Annoying. Raphael’s pose had not changed. Switching to radar on instinct, Alec saw nothing. Then the feeling refined itself to… something. Something he couldn’t define. Something he couldn’t STAND! He felt violated suddenly, as if whatever was happening was taking place against his will. Refining his pulses, he saw it – the merest hair-fine trace of energy emanating from Raphael, brushing up against his mind and, to his horror, felt his mind opening to accept it. Instinctive reflex slammed his mind closed like a trap, repulsing the tiny probe. It vanished instantly.

“Something wrong,” Raphael asked innocently. Alec opened his eyes and realised that he was clutching his forehead.

Raphael’s expression seemed concerned. “If you’re not feeling well, then perhaps we should call it a night?”

Alec nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He doesn’t realise that I know! he thought.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Alec muttered, wanting nothing more than his own company for a while. He rubbed his forehead one last time and turned to go.

“Your shielding is going well,” Raphael commented. “I can’t even see it.”

Alec faced him again, holding his thoughts in for all he was worth. “Yeah, I’ve been practising. I found a book that had some information about it.”

“Maleficia,” said Alec, figuring that it couldn’t hurt to tell him the name.

Raphael’s eyes widened. “Really? Where on Earth did you find a copy of that?”

“Old book store,” Alec lied, not about to bring his father into the conversation. After that little stint with the mental probe, the last thing he was about to do was let Raphael any closer. Not until he knew exactly what they wanted from him. The Order might have seemed friendly thus far, but Alec had no doubt that the second they saw him as a threat, they’d hold another meet in his honour. He was walking on very thin ice with them, and self preservation demanded he tread very carefully…

“Ah. I’ve got a copy of its companion book, if you’d like to borrow it.”

“Sure,” said Alec. He made a show of consulting his watch. “I really should get going…”

“I’ll probably drop that book off sometime tomorrow, then,” Raphael said. “I might see you then.”

Holding a skin-level shield at maximum force as he walked, Alec felt the headache coming on for real. What had Raphael tried to do? he thought frantically. He decided to consult Maleficia as soon as he got home.

“Hey, sweet cheeks, rise and shine! It’s oh four hundred hours, time to get up and taste the dew…”

Jenni forced her eyes open and saw nothing but blue. She reached behind her head to free the elastic band, pushed the squishy blue ice pack off her face, and immediately winced. The bruise over her left eye still hurt despite a night spent with the ice pack strapped to her face. And unless a miracle occurred, she’d doubtlessly collect more bruises to add to the impressive collection she already sported. Life just DIDN’T get any better…

“Logan, I hate you, you know that? I mean really fucking hate you. Like Hitler hated the Jews or the KKK hates black people.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the target of her hatred replied in his usual effervescent tone from the doorway, “but until your girlfriend and my current employer says otherwise, your arse is mine for the pounding.”

She sat up groggily and fixed baleful eyes on him. “You know I’m a month shy of my sixteenth birthday don’t you? Technically, this isn’t just sodomy, its statutory rape. And if you keep it up much longer, you can bloody well add necrophilia to your charge sheet. You’ll get a couple of years for this, you sick, sadistic prick, and with those pretty boy looks of yours, you can bet your soon to be historic anal virginity you’d be a major shower room attraction.”

“As I’d much rather not imagine,” Logan laughed. “Now as much as I enjoy our playful morning banter, quit stalling and hit the shower. We’ve got a busy day to get through. It’s you unarmed and me with a stick day. Your defensive stances still need a lot of work. ”

“Oh, joy!” Jenni grumbled. She knew that there was a point to this sort of thing, but that didn’t make enduring it any less painful. Over the last week, she’d discovered that while Logan was proficient in a large number of what she termed ‘hurt Jenni devices’, he was simply devastating with that over-sized wooden dildo of his. She had yet to land a clean shot at him whilst he held his padded stick, but he had little problem beating her around the field. After each spar, he’d explain where she’d gone wrong, and teach her specific counters for the moves he’d just used, but come the next round, she’d still get used as a piñata. Being marginally faster than he was helped somewhat, but Logan was a master at feints and counters, and had a world of experience over her. The only debatable plus to the gruelling spars was that it took him longer to hit her now than it did a week ago - so she was improving - but getting hit at least once a minute on average still sucked. Her entire body was a canvas to Logan’s efficiency, and the two shades he painted in: black and blue.

“Can’t I for once just sleep in a little more?” she pleaded, biting her bottom lip, stretching out her body appealingly and laying on the ‘come hither’ factor effectively enough to get the holiest of Popes between her legs in three seconds flat. “I’ll do anything for a little more shut-eye… anything…”

“Hardly, I’m straight enough to see that there’s a gorgeous little girl under all those bruises, but sweetie, as tempting as you are, you’ve never met me old lady. If I so much as entertained a kinky thought involving the two of us, she’ll see to it I never have children again.”

Logan grinned and ruefully ruffled his sandy hair. “That, and a couple more things. You think I’m kick-arse with a big stick? Who’d you think taught me? Now she wants a vacation, Fiji I think, and if Eliza isn’t happy with your progress, I don’t get paid my big fat bonus, and without that, the missus doesn’t get to go on holiday. She’d undoubtedly blame the two of us for her lack of tan, then she’ll grab her car keys, find a big stick and declare Logan and Jenni hunting season open. I’d take prison lifers any day!”

“Christ…” Jenni mumbled, torn between the perverse desire to see someone actually beat Logan senseless and the sensible need for self-preservation. Self-preservation eventually won. “Kay, I’ll see you outside in twenty.”

Apparently a late night studying his book didn’t spare Alec the joy of waking up at the crack of dawn. As per his new morning routine, he was showered, dressed and ready to go when the phone rang. He grabbed the cordless handset from hall on his way to the kitchen.

“Bludge day,” Marc said firmly. “Day of bludging. No work, no effort, no nothing. No school, get it?”

“I’m familiar with the term,” Alec said dryly. “You sound groggy. Are you still in bed?”

“Decided last night. Tried to call but you weren’t home. You’d better not have gotten a social life without me.”

“Of course.” There came the faint click of a Zippo at the other end of the line and the sound of Marc exhaling smoke. “The Terrace train station, one hour. Be there at the aforementioned time, or bring Vaseline.”

“Yeah, if you’re late, you can go fuck yourself.” Marc politely clarified.

“Know that you’re cutting school?” his foster father grinned. “I’ll have you know, m’boy, that I spent half my time in high school out of high school.” He pulled a pair of twenties from his wallet and slipped them into Alec’s top pocket. “Just don’t tell Lindsay, alright? She gets wind of this and she’ll nail my arse on the wall next to yours.”

More time to think. Normally Alec would bypass the train entirely and walk the two stations to Tremaine Terrace, but today he took the easy route and got himself a ticket for Central. Even then he was left to his own devices for a half-hour before he arrived at the station, another ten waiting for the train and somewhat less again before he reached the Terrace. He spent that time considering what he’d witnessed the night before.

The Order was definitely worrying. Nice people, yes, but people capable of murder, and in Trish’s case, a psycho bint who got off on it. Raphael worried him still more. Nothing in Maleficia had explained the hairlike strand of energy Raphael had tried to spring his mind with. Logically, it made no sense. If the pipeline Alec used to break into a mind didn’t create the effect Raphael’s had, why should a smaller one? Inexperienced though he was, Alec knew what he had seen and felt. His own mind had opened at the command of that little probe, and he wanted answers. Those answers, however, were not forthcoming, and sooner than he would have liked the conductor’s voice rang out through the announcement system, notifying the passengers of their imminent arrival. He stood by the door until the train stopped, and stuck half his body out the door, beckoning to his two friends.

“What’s this?” Allen asked as the perpetually scruffy pair slipped into the carriage. “Still in uniform?”

“Maybe if I’d gotten a little more notice I would’ve changed,” Alec retorted. “I was just about to leave when I got the call.”

“You mean you don’t have any plans?” Alec demanded. “I thought YOU organised this little outing.”

“Well, I organised as far as the city. I didn’t think as far as an actual activity beyond general truancy. Do you have any bright ideas?”

“Tradition is important,” Marc declared. “If we don’t have tradition, what do we have?”

“I don’t know,” said Alec. “What with our tradition of skipping classes and eating fatty food we’d probably stand to avoid obesity and ignorance.”

“I guess so. The traditional it is,” said Alec knowing that the ‘traditional’ in this case probably meant hanging out at Sparky’s, one of the city’s many pool halls, and wasting away the day in true procrastinating fashion. At least tradition would help keep his mind off things.

Located dead centre on the prestigious Kensington Avenue, the house - though small mansion was perhaps a better term - sat on almost a full acre of prime beachfront land. It was two storeys of the best modern comfort had to offer: five bedrooms, two of which sported en suites, and each with more floor space than most people had in their lounges, two bathrooms, a library / study, an underground wine cellar, and a huge lounge - entertainment room combo that opened onto a patio complete with bar and in-ground pool. The whole thing was painstakingly decked out in soft tones and fashionably subtle ‘spared-no-expense’ décor.

It hadn't been on the market, but the house had still changed hands, the former owner mysteriously migrating to parts unknown a month ago, and the new one settling in almost immediately.

The ‘new’ owner, who, admittedly, looked more like the previous one’s flavour of the week than anything else, lay sprawled out on a deck chair by the pool enjoying the glorious Turnam sun over Kensington Bay. Yet this gorgeous redheaded specimen of feminine perfection did indeed hold the title to the estate. And she was young, having just celebrated her twenty-third birthday a week ago. But this was no spoilt rich girl who’d merely inherited her wealth in some old relative’s will. She hadn't won the lottery, patented some amazing device that promised to change the future of mankind, or hooked up with a rich, witless geriatric either. In fact, aside from her looks, and the conceit she wore like a second skin, there wasn't anything amazingly spectacular about her. She wasn't terribly smart, or cunning, or even capable of putting into motion any sort of devious long-ranged plans. And luck had absolutely nothing to do with her newfound fortune.

From the balcony above the patio, Menthayel maintained his silent vigil. Blaise De Angelo had been nothing but predictable. Once she’d found she could affect things much bigger than herself, the girl had wasted no time going on a series of shopping sprees. Her new abode was simply the most obvious of them. Still, he mused, glancing around distractedly, at least the girl had taste…

Turning his attention back to the redhead, Menthayel’s emerald green eyes trailed up her sleek bikini clad form and came to rest on the jet-black seven-sided stone the girl wore around her neck. At a glance, the pendant was hardly something that caught the eye. It was rather simple, just a piece of polished obsidian with the eight gold-etched arrows of Chaos streaking out from centre. And yet this unpretentious black rock was about the single most powerful artefact in existence.

Dubbed the ‘Chaos Star’ by his own Sigurdians and, something much less flattering by himself, the pendant literally gave its bearer the almost unchecked might of a full archangel to do as they pleased. It was euphoric, seductive, and so against the natural balance that it could best be termed evil. Humanity was never meant to possess such power, and as a direct result, the intoxicating, corruptive magic of the pendant would eventually drive its bearer insane. And when that happened, Liam and his Shadowraiths, protected by wards that rendered them temporarily resilient to angelic magic, would annihilate the bearer and reclaim the pendant for its next candidate.

It was a cruel game Menthayel had been playing for the last three hundred odd years but, to his mind, there was no other choice. This was not about right or wrong, simply about what must be done. Accountable only to himself and the world he’d sworn to watch over, he had no choice in the matter. The lesser ‘evil’ had to be committed to prevent the greater from continuing.

He watched as a muscular young man, bare-chested and wearing only a pair of board shorts, stepped out onto the patio and approached Blaise. The redhead smiled faintly, snapped her fingers and pointed at her feet. This one was her latest acquisition, snapped up only an hour ago off the beach. The young man obediently knelt down and began sucking on her toes. Menthayel took a deep breath and sent a probe into the man’s mind, dreading, even as he did so, what he might find. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later. There was little finesse to Blaise’s handiwork, and almost nothing left in the man’s head. She had taken a living, breathing human being and essentially created a lobotomised slave that existed simply to amuse her. This one, when she grew tired of him - probably by the end of the evening - would simply be turned loose and discarded.

It would be left to the Sigurdians to pick up the pieces and keep Blaise’s activities out of the public eye, and based on what Menthayel had seen, there wasn't enough of the man’s personality left to salvage. Reduced to about the level of a two year old, with little more than the ability to control his muscles and bodily functions, the kindest thing anyone could do would be to simply end his existence. Menthayel sighed to himself. This one would be yet another necessary casualty…

He’d known, even as he gave the order to pass the Star onto her, how unlikely it was that she’d be the one it was intended for, and the lobotomised toy-boy below lent credence to his assumption. Using the link between himself and the Star - the pendant’s innate power meant that there was almost no other way to gain access into Blaise’s mind - he searched in vain for the one thing that might prove him wrong. Remorse. He didn't find it, and that only placed a greater burden on his soul. There was no doubt now that Blaise was not the one. He could probably stall Liam and the rest for a week or two more, but by the end of that, there’d be no choice but to order Blaise’s destruction.

And if Aleck wasn't ready, then aside from selfish condemnation, it would have all been in vain.

Menthayel turned away from the pair who were now rutting like animals. The extra weight on his already overburdened soul was a price he would gladly pay, but only if something was to be gained from it. Aleck had already ‘met’ Blaise, and only the fact that his father’s blood ran through his veins had allowed the Star to give his son the vaguest of peeps into her head. It was decent start, but it was not nearly enough. For the sacrifices already made, a more confrontational meeting had to be arranged. A meeting that only one of them would walk away from…

And for that, he’d need the help of the last being he wanted anywhere near his son. He needed an audience with the Grey Lady herself.

When it came to time-wasting venues, Sparky’s was one of the best. New owners had taken over a few years previously, and transformed the former seedy, dim pool hall into the best in the city. The tables and cues were in excellent repair and the sound-system was first-rate, but the classic pool hall atmosphere had been maintained. Alec, Marc and Allen were avid players and occasionally entered the Friday night tournaments, splitting the prize money when one of them won.

Being regulars, management kept their usual table free when the place wasn’t too crowded and turned a blind eye to their age where drinking and smoking were concerned so long as they didn’t get noticeably drunk. Being mid-morning on a week day, they were pleased to see that their table was free, and a group of Saint Bridget’s girls were currently lounging around the adjacent table.

"Eye candy is in attendance," Allen noted, shaking a cigarette free of his pack. "And wouldn't you know it, they're only one table away."

"Eyes on the game," Marc cautioned him as he slapped a twenty and his learner's permit down on the bar. "Or at least one eye, considering the view. Today, gentlemen, we play for face, and if memory serves you pair are a couple of games behind."

"Listen to the big-shot," Alec laughed. "You're on. No two-shot rule, no moving off the cushion, start from behind the line... and try to keep up."

"Thought so," Jay said with a grin as he handed over a tray of balls. "I'll bring 'em over and you can take care of them when we square up later."

"Hey, Alec, I'll flip you for first shot at the 'champion'," Allen said, punctuating the last word with his fingers.

"He's all yours," said Alec, getting an eyeful of the girls and formulating a plan. This was a prime opportunity to play, and he wasn't thinking of pool. As Marc chalked up his cue and Jay delivered the drinks, Alec took a seat on a nearby sofa, lowered his gaze and surveyed the scene via radar. Every opening provided an entry point for his pulses, and he was treated to an almost X-Ray view of their legs and panties showing through their skirts. He turned aside his more carnal impulses with a grin. There'd be plenty of time for that later if this worked out.

Four girls, two to a side, played on a medium-sized table to their left. Ponytail and bob versus curly and shoulder-length. In the grey world his radar vision afforded him he couldn't work with colour. Surprisingly, the markings on the balls showed up very well. He shrugged this off at first as something he couldn't explain. Then again, now that he thought of it, he noted that colours turned up as varying shades of grey. Strange. If this really was radar, he shouldn't be able to see different shades at all. With another mental shrug, he focussed his attention on the closest girl, the one with the dark(ish) curly hair.

Getting into her mind was easy. Imagining the pipe was no longer really necessary, but he went through with it for the sake of the exercise. All he had to do was decide to do it, and he was in. He sank easily into the now-familiar wash of images, sounds and sensations that made up the thoughts and experience of ‘Lisa’. Her name came immediately with the sense of self and there, just beneath the surface, lay her memories - the sum total of all she had ever thought or experienced. That part was easy, routine almost. The real challenge would come with taking the controls - as he was sure Raphael had tried to do with him - and gaining control of her mind. The trick, Alec mused as he pondered the question of how to actually do it, was trying not to look like he was in a trance while he broke into somebody's mind. Lowering his eyelids just a little more, he lit a cigarette and bobbed his head slightly to the music that poured out of the pool hall's many speakers. Immersed as he was, those small actions took a bit of concentration. It was almost like he was on the outside and trying to work his body like a puppet.

Working with the idea, he focussed on Lisa and tried to make her brush back her hair. Nothing. Frowning, he tried harder. Nothing.

Brush back your fucking hair! he thought at her angrily. Through his shuttered eyes he watched the girl happily take her next shot, potting the nine.

He went on for several minutes, trying his probe in different areas of her head to see if that would make a difference. After the third attempt at this he dispensed with the pipe entirely and focussed on simply getting into her head. Each time he tried to force a thought or command into her head, however, he came up against an obstruction he couldn’t push aside. It was like her mind was repulsing him without the girl’s knowledge – she didn’t bat an eyelid as he hammered against her unconscious defences – and before long he was beginning to lose his temper.

"Arse my arse!" Marc grinned. "I'm just better than you. Up and at 'em, Alec. Your arse is mine."

Reluctantly, Alec withdrew his probe and brought his attention back to the matter at hand, namely making Marc eat his words.

"Your break," Marc said, smiling crookedly as he racked up the balls. "Got to give you some chance."

Alec took his cue as Marc lifted away the triangle and took aim. He slammed the white into the side of the geometric group, scattering the balls and sinking a striped ball.

The fourth shot hit its intended target off centre and the ball went wide of the pocket, sending the cue ball to the other side of the table and setting up an easy shot for Marc. Alec grinned at his friend as he leaned against the wall. While it was true that Marc was a good player, his constant boasting was becoming annoying. Time to take him to school, Alec thought, taking his first real full-colour glance at his test subject. Though her panties weren’t showing through in this view, he could now see that the previously transparent skirt was a dark green, as was her (now loosened) tie. The Saint Bridget’s crest was green and gold on the pocket of her white blouse.

“Oi, fucker!” Marc said between his teeth. “Back to the game. It’s your shot.”

Marc’s game was fast – he either sank a lot of balls quickly or scattered them with his cannonball shots. Quickly taking stock of the remaining balls, Alec saw that his opponent had only removed two of his own balls from the table, as well as a striped one.

Grinning, Alec grazed the white off his target, trickling the ball into the pocket, and walked around the table for his next shot. Across the green felt he caught sight of his quarry bending over her own table, and his mind was brought back to the real reason he was here. If he won this game, Alec would be stuck playing a rematch against Marc, and then one against Allen. Of course if he lost either of those he’d be caught up in yet another rematch, and so on and so forth. Gritting his teeth, he realised what he had to do.

To his credit, the shots he botched looked convincing enough, and before long Marc was wearing his trademark lopsided grin.

“You’re up,” Alec said lightly, tossing Allen the cue and dumping himself back onto the couch. His beer, he noticed, had barely been touched. After remedying the situation and lighting another cigarette, he settled back into the half-trance and started work again on Lisa’s head.

A few more minutes of futile mental yelling brought him no closer to his goal. He opened his eyes and noticed that his cigarette had become one long cylinder of ash with a butt at one end, and decided against wasting another one in the same fashion. How, he wondered, was he going wrong? It didn’t look so difficult when his purple-eyed friend did it, so why the hell couldn’t he pull it off? Alec switched off the radar and rested his chin on his hands. Attaching the grey pipe to her head and bellowing through it didn’t have any effect. Getting rid of the pipe altogether and trying to force thoughts into her head wasn’t any better. Maybe his approach was at fault?

Alec grinned and hoisted his stubby to Allen, who raised his own in reply. If Marc won the next one there’d be another rematch. At worst, he had one game left before having to play again. That meant twenty minutes or so worth of practise before he had to give up again, and Alec had no intention of wasting that time.

Raphael’s probe had been thin and whip-like, very different from Alec’s own simple grey hose. He summoned his will and created his own subtle extension – a fine, hair-like tendril of thought that didn’t seem capable of acting as a conduit at all. Nevertheless, he mimicked the actions of his bald friend and very gently touched the space between Lisa’s eyes. The girl blinked and shook her head, then looked back to the game. In his seat only one table away, Alec exulted.

It works it works it works it works it works it works IT WORKS! he thought triumphantly, watching the girl’s mind open in the same fashion as his own when Raphael had done the same to him. From here it was an easy thing to slip a thought into her head – without the brain-pipe – and watch her brush back her hair.

“You needn’t look so happy,” Marc said grudgingly as Allen moved on to his fourth consecutive ball. “I can recover.”

“Right,” Alec grinned, pretending to keep a close eye on the game. Mentally, he touched each of the four girls in sequence then placed a command. Almost in unison, they all touched the tip of their noses and continued play as though nothing strange had happened. Open the mind, enter the command, Alec thought. Easy as that. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? It didn’t escape Alec that he never would have thought of this if Raphael hadn’t tried to hack into his own mind, and furious as it made him to have his so-called friend do something like that, he guessed he owed him one. Yeah, he owed him one alright. But there’d be time for that later.

Lisa was easily the prettiest girl in her group, and it was for that reason that Alec chose her for his next experiment. Her memories indicated a boyfriend named Darryl, but Alec wasn’t much inclined to care right now. He was sure that Darryl, like any other guy, would do exactly what he was about to do, given the chance. It only took a moment to insert a new command.

“Hitting the can,” Alec said casually. Allen nodded absently and Marc ignored him completely as he left. Seeing as the girls were the only patrons apart from he and his friends, he chose the Gents and leaned against the wall to wait, counting down the seconds on his wristwatch. He’d told Lisa to follow him after thirty seconds. She was only four seconds late.

“Hello,” said Lisa pleasantly, as though a girl walking into the men’s room was a regular occurrence.

“Hey,” Alec replied. He quickly placed a ‘nothing to see here’ ward around himself and expanded it until the room was covered. The edges were circular and didn’t quite fit the rectangular room, but the door was covered and Alec figured that for now close enough was good enough. He brought his attention back to Lisa, who had been standing there the whole time without uttering a word.

“So this is what a boy’s bathroom looks like,” she said, looking around as though only just realising where she was. “It’s pretty dirty.”

“Well, I guess I’d better be going,” she said with a trace of discomfort. “See ya’.”

She did so immediately. Alec noted that her mind remained open for a shot time after he’d entered a command. Her brown eyes were slightly glassy, and only came back into focus after his probe had left mind.

“What-" Lisa began. Alec silenced her with another touch of his probe, this time ordering her mind to remain open. Her eyes followed him as he crossed the room and stood in front of her. She didn’t object when he laid an experimental hand on her shoulder, and merely looked at him in confusion as he stroked her cheek with his palm. Small gestures, but intimate ones nonetheless. Alec stepped back and released her mind, curious to see what would happen.

“Yeah,” she said, rubbing her head and tousling her hair a little. “I feel a bit… funny, that’s all.”

“I see.” Alec caught her eyes with his and stared through them into her thoughts. Her pretty eyes went out of focus again and he realised he’d pierced her defences again. He processed the information quickly, enjoying himself immensely, and wondered just how far he could push this. “Put out your hand,” he said softly. He wasn’t really surprised to see her comply immediately, holding her hand out palm-up in front of him. He turned it over and brushed his lips on her knuckles, never taking his eyes off of hers.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed, her eyelids closing a little but still remaining locked to his. Her thoughts, he noticed, rolled slowly through her mind in this state, showing an image of a brown-haired boy kissing her gently on the mouth. She equated pleasure with her boyfriend immediately, making Alec guess that the boy in her thoughts was her first. He smiled, an idea forming.

“I’m Darryl,” Alec said more firmly. Lisa stared at him stupidly, then comprehension dawned in her thoughts and, slowly transferred onto her face. She smiled brilliantly, though her eyes still held that dazed, sleepy look.

“Hey, pretty girl,” said Alec, mimicking the boy in her thoughts. He held both of her hands in his and drew her closer.

“I missed you,” Lisa said, still smiling dreamily. “When did you get back?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Alec whispered, and pressed his lips gently against hers. While her mind worked slowly, her body reacted immediately, her arms locking behind his neck and her tongue slipping into his mouth. She pressed her hips into his leg and raised her thigh to press her crotch against his hip, moaning softly. Alec couldn’t believe his luck. He kept one eye on her thoughts while devoting the rest of his attention to the beautiful girl in his arms. His limited history with women meant that every girl he came into contact with was completely new experience. Lisa kissed far more softly than Nadine did, but while her approach seemed more relaxed, she was no less insistent. Her hands were still around his neck, as though scared he would let her go, and her crotch rubbed against him so hard that he was sure she’d come soon if she kept going. They stopped for breath and Alec began nuzzling her neck, drawing another moan from Lisa.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered into his ear. “Love you, baby. I love you, Darryl.”

Alec suddenly pushed her back, far harder than he’d intended to, if he’d even intended to do it at all. Lisa regained her balance, looking hurt.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asked in a heartbroken voice. “I love you…”

“Stop saying that,” Alec hissed angrily, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Damn it!” He turned and kicked the bin hard, sending dirty hand towels over the floor and wondering immediately why he’d done it.

“Darryl?” Lisa said, tears filling her eyes as she tried to hug him. “Da-“

Alec fixed her furiously with his eyes and she stopped dead in her tracks. He swore under his breath, suddenly unable to look at her. “You’re being stupid,” he told himself angrily as he grabbed a paper towel and wiped her eyes. “This didn’t happen,” he said, looking into her eyes again. “You don’t remember this. You remember going to the bathroom, and that’s all. You didn’t see Darryl,” he spat the name, “here today. Go back to your friends.”

He waited until she was gone and washed his face, looking at himself in the mirror and feeling stupid. Three words, that was all it took. I love you. A little reminder of the fact that he was feeling up someone else’s girl, and he was consumed with guilt. It took a lot of effort to keep looking himself. Forcing himself to remember Chantelle’s words, he glared into the mirror. “There is no inherent value in any action,” he said angrily. “There is no good or evil.”

“Habit,” he snarled, turning on his heel and stalking out. He knew he couldn’t run away from his own conscience, but he was going to do his damnedest anyway.

“Who’s up?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual voice as he approached the table.

“Rack ‘em up,” Alec snapped, snatching up Marc’s cue from the table and feeling very much like he wanted to hurt somebody. To his left, Lisa was sipping a Coke and talking with her friends as though she didn’t have a care in the world. She wouldn’t, Alec thought, turning his back on her and concentrating on the break.

The dream started in the usual fashion, but with a notable difference. Jenni was no longer afraid. She knew the shadows were coming, and that she was running from them. Her destination was no longer unknown. Now she wasn’t running for her life. She was running to HIM. The same sequence of events unrolled before her as they’d done every night for the last couple of weeks. First the chase, then the appearance of her pursuers, and finally the moment she’d been waiting for. HIS arrival. Aleck. HER Aleck. There was no need to concentrate on the fight now, or the hideous creatures that attacked. She knew he’d win. He always won. Then came the moment she’d been dreading.

“No,” she whispered, burying her face into it. She didn’t bother to hold back the tears.

It isn't often that two beings of immense power agree to meet, and more often than not, such meetings usually end in violence. Allowed to run unchecked, the divided Seraph fought amongst themselves as often as they battled the daevas and others from the lower planes. With this in mind, it was of paramount concern that the meeting be held in the one place neither party held any sway over, and there was only one place they could truly call neutral. The Garden.

Menthayel inclined his head slightly as the epitome of female perfection entered the clearing. With barely a nod of greeting, she crossed over to the stone bench opposite him and gracefully seated herself so that they were facing each other with the clearing separating them.

“You have requested an audience, and so I have come,” Nischa began without preamble. “What would you have of me?”

“I would know your motives for saving my son’s life, as well as the price you would ask in recompense.”

Nischa’s expression did not change. “My motives are mine alone, Seraph. As for my price, I ask only that you allow me to see him.”

“That does not concern you. Simply be assured no harm shall come to him by my hand, nor will I allow any harm to come to him if it is within my power to prevent it.”

“Of course… Lady.” Menthayel lowered his head for a moment, and then looked up again. “You are the teacher he refuses to tell me about.” The words came out as a gentle accusation, but an accusation no less.

Nischa blinked, about the most overt reaction she’d made thus far. “How…?”

“Lady, you forget, he is my son,” Menthayel said quietly. “His mind may be locked away from me, and your arts impressive, but I can still sense your presence around him. It is subtle, but it is there. I have no doubt you are responsible for his growing repertoire of tricks.”

“If you were so sure of that, then why have you not acted?” Nischa demanded. “I would have thought a Seraph like you would take offence immediately…”

Menthayel’s voice was deceptively soft, but his anger all too apparent. “A Seraph… like… me…? Lady, kindly explain exactly what you mean by that.”

“You know exactly what I mean, Menthayel!” Nischa shot back. “You’ve destroyed countless others for far less.”

“I have,” Menthayel agreed without a hint of remorse, “and doubtlessly will continue to do so. I am fated to act, so act I must. And I shall continue to act until the proper balance has been restored, or I am no more.” The Seraph paused, considered his words carefully, and then spoke again. “Only when all is as intended can I grieve for the souls I have taken,” the admission was a long moment in coming, “or the soul I have sacrificed.”

For the briefest instant there was genuine sympathy in Nischa’s eyes. Then her impassive mask was again in place. “You would not request a meeting for anything we had already discussed. Again I ask: what you would have of me?”

“Then you know of the girl. I thought I sensed your probe a little after Aleck’s.”

“For now, but she is not the one. In a week, perhaps two, she will be no more.” Menthayel studied the beautiful face across the clearing hoping for some sort of reaction. He hadn't really expected one and was not surprised.

Nischa flowed to her feet in a single motion. “Are you insane? There’s no way he’d be able to keep what he is hidden! That girl will kill him!”

“I will have no part of this,” Nischa spat through clenched teeth, the anger on her perfect face all too apparent. “I will play no part in his death! Leave, Menthayel. Get out of my sight now, or I swear I’ll tear you limb from limb where you stand.”

Menthayel did not move a muscle, and continued to remain motionless as he felt Nischa begin to focus in her power in preparation for an attack. He remained that way, calmly watching her as her power continued to build, then just before she unleashed her full might upon him, Menthayel did the last thing she expected him to do.

Caught totally by surprise, Nischa’s spell fizzed away, her concentration completely shattered. She dropped to her knees and stared at him in confusion. “What… game is this?” she demanded hollowly.

“No game, lady,” Menthayel told her. “I merely needed to know where you stood with regards to my son.”

Menthayel offered her a benign grin. “Indeed, but it was a calculated risk.” Then the grin faded and his expression hardened. “Yet if I even suspected you of trying to harm him, it would have been me doing the destroying. Understand this, Lady: you may be the stronger of us, but I do not fear you, and even though it would probably cost me my life to do so, I will not hesitate a moment to take your head.”

“You are insane,” Nischa breathed, her expression ashen. She knew Menthayel spoke the truth. She was the stronger of them, but not significantly so. If he were willing to sacrifice himself in the process – and she knew him well enough to know he would not shy from the task, should he deem it necessary - he was more than capable of taking her down with him.

“Completely.” Menthayel stood up and crossed the clearing until he stood before her. “And now I’m going to take another calculated risk, but like the last one, this cannot be avoided.” He helped her to her feet, and then knelt before her in much the same way he’d knelt before the One Above All. Taking her hands, he placed them on either side of his head and said, “This is something no Seraph has ever voluntarily done. Not even for...” he smiled wistfully, but left the name unsaid, “Know that I do it not as an act of goodwill, but because it must be done to secure your cooperation. You must understand the ‘why’ before you can agree to help me.”

Nischa stared at him in shock. What he was doing was so completely unprecedented it boggled even her mind! He was indeed offering her something that he’d never offered to anyone before… the complete, unabridged version of himself. But she couldn't back out now! Steeling herself, she took a deep breath, focused her will, and with more than a little trepidation, immersed herself in his mind…

Alec smiled to himself as he watched Elaine Jensen fumbling with her car keys. It was pushing four o’clock and the school parking lot was deserted. Maybe not the ideal location, but the timing suited him fine. There wasn’t anywhere either of them needed to be, and no one would notice a couple of minutes of absence. He pulled his aura in, wrapping it closely around his body, and then gently pushed it out until it formed a rough circle a little under two meters in diameter with himself in the centre. Maleficia had taught him a couple of new tricks and this was one of them. Essentially just a modification of the ‘nothing to see here’ shield he’d learnt from Raphael, this one allowed him to draw objects and people into the area of non-notice. He could, in theory, use it for shoplifting and the like if he’d been so inclined, but Alec had more important things on his mind than a free tube of Pringles.

Secure in the knowledge that no one, Elaine included, even knew he was there, he watched her rummage through her satchel and savoured the moment. With the shield he now employed, there was absolutely nothing stopping him from just walking up to her, forcing her over the hood of her car, yanking her slacks down and screwing her senseless. He knew he was much stronger than she was, so it was hardly like she could really stop him. And the best part was that no one would notice anything. As long as he didn’t leave physical evidence traceable to him, it would fall on his word against hers. A nearly perfect crime. It was oh so very tempting… he could almost feel her hot tight pussy quaking around his cock…

Elaine spun around, unaware she was now standing within the boundaries of her companion’s shield. “Alec? What are you doing here? School’s been out for at least an hour.”

“I was in the library chasing up some things…” came the non-committal answer.

“Oh, okay,” she frowned slightly, not quite sure what she was supposed to say next. Alec seemed content to watch her calmly. He was at least two feet away, so he wasn’t intruding on her ‘personal space’, and he wasn’t looking her up and down with a lecherous gleam in his eyes, but on the same token, he was still looking at her. It was an odd sort of look, like he was sizing her up for something. Elaine shuddered slightly. Alec’s utterly confident demeanour made him look for all the world like a predator, and since she was the only other person there, that made her prey. It wasn’t a comforting thought. She might have had seven years over him, but as far as size went, he won hands down, and she’d seen how effortlessly he’d subdued Joel Hannant at the school dance the week before. There was no doubt in her mind he was also the stronger of them. Taking her eyes off him for a moment, she quickly looked around, hoping to catch sight of someone else.

Her eyes returned to Alec as he calmly extracted a cigarette and offered the pack to her. “I thought we agreed you’d try to quit…” she protested weakly.

Alec smiled and shook his head, “Na-huh, remember, I only said I’d try to quit if you could honestly tell me you hated these things. If memory serves, you kinda’ liked them.”

Elaine said nothing as she watched him slowly pull the smoke down, and then blow out a thin grey stream. His eyes, locked on to hers the whole time, were teasing. “Want a drag?”

She shook her head slightly, but made no audible protest as he took a step closer to her. Another step and they were almost nose to nose. “No, Alec… I can’t!” she glanced around nervously, looking for an avenue to escape. His close proximity was making her knees weak and she was breaking out in gooseflesh. “Someone might walk by and…”

“No one will see, Elaine.” The teasing ring was still in his voice. She watched dumbly as he brought the cigarette up to her lips. “Just one drag…”

Just one drag… his words echoed through her head. Just one drag… one couldn’t be so bad… Her lips parted slightly and he gently eased the filter between them. She tentatively drew a little smoke into her mouth, held it there for a moment, and then took it down into her lungs, acutely conscious of the fact Alec was still closely watching her. She felt a little giddy as she exhaled, but wasn’t sure if that was because of the cigarette or his close proximity. She suddenly felt like a little girl again, a little girl doing something her mother had clearly told her not to do. By contrast, the teenager before her was clearly acting the role of the assertive adult.

“See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it…?” Alec smiled down at her gently before taking a drag himself.

Elaine blinked, and shook her head slightly, “No it wasn’t… but, I… I really should go…” before this goes on any further!

“Of course.” Before she could even think to stop him, Alec leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Elaine froze, staring at him uncertainly as he slowly pulled away and took a step back. Her cheek seemed to tingle slightly, and she was uncomfortably aware of the blush spreading up her neck. It might have been little more than a peck, and on the cheek as well, but somehow, it hadn’t felt like a chaste kiss.

“Well, I’d better be heading off too,” Alec told her as he dropped what remained of the cigarette on the ground between them and crushed it out. “See you tomorrow…”

“Bye… Alec,” Elaine finally managed to sputter. She watched him calmly walk away, and kept watching until he was swallowed up by the copse of trees that separated the parking lot from the oval. Only when she was sure he was gone did she reach for the satchel she’d dropped at her feet. Her car keys were the side pocket where she always kept them. She frowned, wondering why she hadn't found them earlier.

Noticing her shaking hands, Elaine Jensen shook her head irritably and glanced once more at the spot Alec had disappeared.

In limitless emptiness of the Void, Nischa stood alone. This was her place, her dominion. Nothing could exist here without her willing it to be there. Not darkness, not light, not shape or form. In the grey nothingness she held rule, and she held it gladly. Whereas The Garden was a construct created in mimicry of the Earth, the Void was the blank canvas upon which its shape was imposed. It was her place, gifted to her eons ago by the One who had created her. The One who had created All. Though she left her home from time to time to venture into physical reality, this was where she always returned. This was where she belonged, where she felt safe. Where she felt strong.

Menthayel’s gesture had been made in pure selfless love. Love of his son, of course, and love of his cause. He would not be denied his will on either count, and it was for that reason that he laid not only his mind, but his very soul, bare to her scrutiny. She had seen what he had intended for her to see, of course. His intentions were pure, though cruel, and necessary. No matter how much she wanted to spare Aleck his fate, the boy had to learn, and he had to learn the hard way. Spare him a hard lesson now, and he would end up learning it later at greater cost.

Fifteen minutes into Remedial English, and Alec was bored. Big surprise. Considering the fact that the Gorman had showed up five minutes late, he was only ten minutes into the class when a familiar face appeared at the door. She of the spiky red hair and purple highlights. Ignoring the appreciative stares the male population laid on her more than ample bosom, she walked straight up to Gorman, who was busily cluttering up an already cluttered whiteboard with even more pointless drivel, and thrust a note in the teacher’s face.

After quickly scanning the note, the teacher turned, her eyes landing squarely upon Alec.

“Shut the fuck up!” Alec hissed as he left his seat and made his way to the front of the class.

“Your mother called for you,” Ms. Gorman said quietly. “She wants you to come home immediately.”

Alec nodded, shooting ‘Martina’ a questioning glance. She merely grinned mischievously. He shrugged and returned to his seat for his gear.

“Prick!” was Marc’s irritated contribution to the two-word conversation that aptly summed up their thoughts on Alec getting a free ticket away from tedium.

Joining Martina in the hall, Alec grinned broadly. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Martina shrugged. “Was bored,” she replied dismissively. “And, apparently, so were you. Wanna do the city?”

“That’s the spirit. Not like you’ll learn anything useful in there, anyway.”

Boredly inspecting an engraved diamond in the display case of Enigma Jewellers, Blaise absently toyed with the idea of possessing a rock worth more than a small South American country. Having decided earlier in the day that she needed to be in the city, she had obeyed this whim as she did every other. What, after all, did she really need to do? Omnipotence had its benefits. There wasn't a single thing she could conceive of that was not in her power to possess. Touching the stone that hung around her neck, she pondered the fact that the diamond before her was far prettier. Nevertheless, there was not a force on Earth that could persuade her to part with the odd trinket she now wore, or even to take it off for a moment. She did not know why she wore it, but the seven-sided stone held an allure that went far beyond the beauty – or expense – of any diamond. With the black stone around her neck, she felt beautiful, alive, and complete. But more than that, she felt like a god.

Her gaze returning to the diamond, she remained unaware of the unseen Watcher at her shoulder.

<Are you ready?> Menthayel asked, sending his thoughts across the ether, beyond the reach of any human telepath. His intended recipient was no more than a couple of blocks away, but he wasn’t about to risk being overheard. There would be a slight delay between messages, as he was essentially sending his thoughts out of his current dimension, then across the parallel distance between himself and his target, and then having his message re-enter the current dimension, but for the time being, that was unavoidable.

<Yes. Are you?> came the reply, a few seconds later. He was pleased to note that her message travelled along the same path as his did. Their conversation, while stilted, and a little slower than normal, would be about as secure as possible.

Satisfied that at least for now, the Grey Lady would uphold her side of the bargain, Menthayel nodded to himself and leaned forward to whisper in Blaise’s ear.

Blaise continued to browse for a few more minutes to kill time, though to what end she had no idea. There was nowhere she needed to be, and her heart wasn't really into shopping right now. Why was she lingering here looking at a shiny rock that didn’t even begin to compare to the one she already wore? Dismissing this bothersome thought, she shook her head and continued perusing the merchandise. The diamond necklace might have held no appeal, but surely there was a bracelet or something she could take a fancy to. Since when was she not interested in shopping?

Something drew her attention to the window behind the case, and she looked up quickly. A gorgeous hunk of man wandered past and she immediately began to consider how much better than a diamond he would look on her. Her mouth curved into a smile until she saw the bitch-slut wrapped around his arm! Sister, maybe? Hmmph! Not by the stupid, love-struck look on her face. No, this dirty little tramp had her filthy little hands on something to which she had no right. Blaise's eyes narrowed contemptuously.

Martina intercepted the probe flung at her and allowed it free reign into the mock-persona she wore as a shield about her. As far as Blaise would know, the commands hit home and held firm. Though poorly executed, the angelic power fuelling them was more than sufficient against a weak human mind. Fortunately, her mind was neither weak nor human. To keep up appearances she patted Alec’s shoulder and whispered, “Something I need to take care of. See you in the food court in twenty?”

Alec frowned as he watched her wander off. “I wonder what that’s all about,” he wondered aloud.

<Not yet,> he commanded her silently. <Only mark him. There are too many witnesses here. Mark him, then call him to you when you are ready... This one is not like the others you’ve taken before. He is special prize, and as such, must be treated accordingly. You will need to prepare, for your consort...>

The beautiful redhead nodded, completely unaware that the voice in her head wasn’t her own.

Martina kept an eagle-eye on her son as she walked to the food court. Necessary or not, she didn't like this cloak-and-dagger bullshit. She’d felt Blaise’s probe before it reached Aleck and momentarily checked its movement before she allowed it to reach the intended target. Only a marker. She cringed as the small blast of energy stained his aura, allowing the misguided girl to track his movements from afar. Martina didn't like it, but she didn't have to. The larger issue was more important, and for that reason, and that reason alone, she turned her back once more.

Alec’s eyes snapped up as he felt something brush against him. It was a teasing, seductive touch, almost like the intimate whisper of a lover, felt, but not quite heard. A vague, alluring promise of everything, and nothing at the same time. As fast as the thought occurred to him, a weak pulse immediately went out into the surrounding area, but nothing that seemed to classify as a threat showed up within striking distance.

But that made sense, because this thing hadn’t felt like a threat. In fact, it was pleasurable enough to make him want to actively seek out who or what had caused it. He scanned the aisle he was in again with both his eyes and his pulses, but again nothing out of the ordinary turned up. Whatever had caused that oddly pleasurable sensation was gone, or too well hidden for him to find.

Making a mental note to consult Maleficia about this sort of thing, Alec shook his head and set out to find Martina. Knowing his mysterious friend only too well, there was no doubt in his mind that if he turned up late or let her get too much of a head start, she’d simply find some cock she took a liking to…

That was something to be avoided. The time they spent together was short enough as it was, and as he couldn’t be in her, at least he’d be with her.

“God I’d kill for a cigarette…” Jenni complained as Logan led her out of the afternoon sun and into the relative shade of a conveniently placed Jacaranda tree.

Jenni grunted, “Kill me? Yeah, I’ve heard the discriminatory anti-tobacco propaganda.” She sat down heavily with her back against the rough bark of the tree. “But that does nothing to change the fact I still want one. A 16 milligram tar-stick would make these ten minute breaks seem almost like heaven…”

“Well I suppose you’re entitled to a smoke then,” said a cheerful voice as an unopened pack of Griffin Special Filters landed at Jenni’s feet.

“Miss me darling?” ‘Eliza’ grinned, kneeling before Jenni, she spared a brief glance at Logan, whose jaw hung at about knee level. “Oh, hi Logy, how ya doin’?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Logan demanded. “And how the hell did you know where here was? If memory serves, I never actually told you where we were going as part of our initial agreement!”

Jenni’s attention darted from Eliza to Logan and then back again. This was news to her.

“Oh, I hear things,” Eliza answered carelessly. “But don’t worry though, your Sersius friends are still under the impression you’re on recuperating leave. They have absolutely no idea you’re actually out here doing cash in hand work on the side.”

Jenni had never seen Logan lose his cool before, but something in Eliza’s last statement had clearly caused him to lose it. “Who the fuck are you?” He demanded taking a quick step back, his eyes dangerously narrowed.

Jenni got the impression some unspoken communication passed between them, for the tension seemed to drain out of Logan, but her teacher still didn’t seem totally at ease. “You know that if this gets out, it’ll probably be my head?” he mumbled morosely.

“If it gets out, it’ll be because of carelessness on your part.” Eliza told him. “Jenni knows nothing about your allegiances and you have my word that I will say nothing.”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Eliza told her, the blonde girl’s attention still on Logan. “You have my word.” She repeated in an oddly formal tone.

“Whoopee for Logan,” Jenni grumbled, annoyed about being kept out of the loop. “Now while I’m glad you brought the smokes, what are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you, of course!” the blonde said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re an expensive investment, and I needed to make sure I wasn’t paying this great boof-head for nothing. So, what can you do?”

Jenni glanced at Logan, who gave her a small nod. “A little of everything basically,” she told Eliza. “As we’re apparently on a tight schedule, it’s pretty much been set piece moves, a couple of easily strung together combos, basic counters, blocks and the like. Oh, and I can probably sink a throwing knife between your eyes at twenty paces.”

“Quite well actually. Her defensive stances still need work because she still seems to think she’s the only one doing the hitting, but other than that, quite well indeed. She’s pretty damn fast when she wants to be, so what she lacks in brute force, she can make up with sheer speed.” His expression turned vaguely rueful, “As much as it pains me to admit it, the little pipsqueak is arguably faster than me. If I wasn’t so damn good at kinetic predictability…”

Eliza nodded, looking pleased. “You’re cheating, that’s good. I’ll sleep a lot better knowing her sparring partner had a serious edge over her. If she can match you, she’ll be more than a match for most of the nasties she’ll meet later.” The blonde girl shifted her attention to Jenni. “Think I could get a demonstration?”

“Now? Christ, I’m on a break!” Jenni protested. “They’re few and far between as is!”

“Okay, after your cigarette then,” Eliza teased, “and if you’re good, I’ve got a prezzy waiting for you.”

“A present!” Jenni brightened at that and then shot Logan an evil grin. “Please tell me it’s a gun so I can shoot this sadistic fuck!”

In the background, over the chirping of ever present crickets, he could hear the surf breaking against the shore. The proximity to the beach, and the opulent splendour of the houses on each side told him beyond a doubt he was standing on the pavement of arguably the most expensive stretch of property outside the CBD of Turnam City. He was smack in the centre of Kensington Avenue! The big question though, was what the fuck was he doing here? The last thing he remembered doing was lying in bed flicking between MTV, Channel V and the Comedy Channel. And seeing as the Real World and its plethora of crappy reality TV cousins had long since finished, it had had to be after midnight then.

“A dream?” he asked himself aloud. “Nah, can’t be…” he’d never had a dream where he’d considered he might be dreaming before. Dreams always felt real, and while this did too, there was still something oddly surreal about it to. And he still had no idea what he was doing here.

There was no answer, but Alec couldn’t feel his friend’s presence anyway. She could pop up without warning, but whenever she was near, he could feel it. There was a warm comforting presence that always accompanied the Void Jumper, and there was none of that here. This didn’t feel like Chantelle’s doing. But if not her, then who else? It didn’t feel like his father’s handiwork either, and Alec didn’t know anyone else that might be able to do it. Raphael and the Order sprang to mind next, but they too were quickly dismissed. As impressive as their talents might be, he doubted any of them could do this to him. Chantelle had told him when he’d first met Raphael that it was doubtful the human could really do much to him anyway. But then again, Raphael had almost slipped into his head…

Without moving a muscle, Alec let loose his pulses, setting them for, what was to him, a fairly long-range scan of about forty metres. Any more than that, and the sensory overload would leave him with a splitting headache. Still, there was nothing. His brush with the lupine had taught him that his pulses were more than capable of detecting etheric matter, and there was none of that here either.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Alec started walking. A minute later, he found himself facing a pair of massive, wrought iron gates. To his surprise, the gates silently slid open. Alec took a quick step back, expecting a car to come backing out of the driveway any moment now. He didn’t know anyone that lived here, so the open gate couldn’t be for him. Or could it? Just to be on the safe side, he moved out of the way and lit a strangely tasteless cigarette.

<Well…?> came an amused feminine voice, <come on up, or do I need to lay out the red carpet first?>

Alec dropped his cigarette in surprise. <Me?> he returned, not really sure who he was communicating with. It wasn’t Chantelle, that was for sure.

<Where am I going?> Alec sent back, hoping it wasn’t another vampire he was communicating with. His hand instinctively strayed to the small of his back. But his knife wasn’t there!

<You won’t need that, darling,> the strange voice told him, <now come on up. I’ve been waiting for you all day.>

<Through here?> Alec nodded at the open gates, sensing that whoever he was linked with could somehow see him.

<Because I FUCKING TOLD YOU TO!!> came the furious reply, then just as quickly, the other voice changed its tone, <I’m sorry about that darling, you will forgive me won’t you…? I’m just not used to hearing ‘no’.> there was an odd mix of subtle threat and girlish charm that accompanied the words.

Alec tepidly made his way up the winding driveway and up to the front door. Like the gate at his back, the mahogany doors simply swung open as if he’d been a walking biological key. Crossing the threshold, he found himself in a somewhat spartan, but tastefully decorated foyer, a flight of steps to his left, and a long hallway to his right.

“Okay,” he muttered aloud, and did as instructed, his eyes and his pulses studiously taking note of his surroundings and anything that might be used as a weapon if his unseen host turned hostile. Finding nothing sturdier than a bone china vase, Alec pulled his pulses close, and then gently pushed them out much like the ‘nothing to see’ shield but with a noticeable difference. Where the former had a fixed barrier, this one was constantly shifting and much more loosely constructed. The theory, according to Maleficia at least, was that with a shield set like so, he could focus it very quickly in a certain spot where it would harden into a barrier durable enough to absorb just about any physical blow within reason. It wouldn’t stop a Mack truck from running him over, but it should be enough to save him from getting stabbed or bludgeoned with a baseball bat. This shield was also quicker and easier to use then the full shield his father had told him was possible, and Alec wasn’t about to risk tiring himself out without knowing exactly what manner of creature he was facing. Another advantage of the current pulse shield he was employing was that it was something any human capable of telekinetics was theoretically able to do, and as such, shouldn’t be a dead giveaway that he wasn’t just another human.

But there were problems with this sort of shield as well. He could only fully focus it in one direction at a time, and seeing as he hadn’t properly field-tested it in a controlled environment, had no idea how well it would hold up. But it was far too late to do anything about that now. All he could do was hope whoever he was about to meet wasn’t dead set on beating him senseless.

He reached the top of the stairs, and was about to ask for further directions when he felt her. Clearly a HER, this was something new... It felt vaguely like the sort of power… Chantelle had displayed in the void, a sense of perfect malevolence only sustainable by a free agent without ties or obligations. One who toiled simply for the gratification of self without regard to the consequences imposed others. And if this creature possessed only a faction of what Alec was sure he was feeling, then there wouldn’t be many who could stand against her. He could feel her aura, permeating through the walls, pulsing as it were, against his skin, and carrying him forward without conscious control. It was euphorically seductive, the touch of silk encompassing both his body and his will. A door opened and he was drawn inside, unable to prevent his own movement, unable protest, able even to want to. His mental and physical defences crumbled under the siren song and he didn’t even have the will left to care that he was completely defenceless.

She stood in the centre of the room, and Alec was unable to focus on anything else.

Fiery red locks were the first things that caught his eye, but the rest of her was clearly just as spectacular. Clad in nothing more than a flimsy transparent shift, she stood proudly before him with her chin up and her chest thrust out appealingly. Possessing the eyes, the brain, and the libido of a horny sixteen year old, Alec was unable to stop himself from staring. His eyes lingered for a long drawn out moment on her perfect breasts, then down over a flat sculptured tummy, a narrow waist and a set of hips that would have done a Victoria’s Secret model proud. A small triangular strip of reddish hair served as a redundant directional indicator to the second most important object of male thought, and his eyes lingered on her crotch much longer than he consciously intended to. After taking note of her exquisite dancer’s legs, Alec’s attention returned to her face where he received another surprise. He’d seen this woman before!

“W-who are you?” he stammered, his mind returning to his first attempt at reading the mind of another under ‘Martina’s’ tutelage.

The woman’s smile sent a dizzying tremor through his body. “Blaise de Angelo, lover.”

She held out a hand, palm up to him, in an obvious gesture. Alec took a step forward and placed his hand over hers. Her skin was cool silk, but beneath that, Alec could feel the warmth of power that coursed through her veins as an almost tangible sensation. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees, careful only to keep his hand in hers without yanking her down with him. The redhead looked into his adoring eyes and smiled sweetly.

“For me?” He asked breathlessly, awed and flattered that she found him worth searching for.

“Yes for you.” She took a step forward, her pubis now only inches from his nose. “Someone deserving of a place by my side. I can see what you are, what you can become. Join me Alec, together everything will be ours…”

<Chantelle?> Alec enquired irritably, never for an instant taking his eyes off the woman he was gladly kneeling before. <Where are you?>

<Obviously not in the same room as you, dummy.> Came his friend’s contemptuous reply. <Now what the hell are you doing on your knees before this skanky bimbo?>

<Bimbo!> Alec felt a hot flush of anger. Blaise was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on! She was the epitome of perfection! For her, he’d do anything, rape, pillage, plunder, it didn’t matter. If Blaise wanted him to do it, he’d do it gladly. She was a Goddess. HIS Goddess, and for her, nothing but pure adoration and obedience would suffice… <How dare you!> he spat telepathically.

<NO! Get out of my head, Chantelle!> Alec demanded furiously. <And don’t you fucking dare say shit about her again!>

<Christ! This is seriously fucked up and you frigging know it!> Chantelle sent back.

<Aleck,> her tone was pleading. He could feel her hurt, but this time he didn’t give a damn, <I told you there’s a reason we couldn’t be together…>

<Tell someone who gives a shit. I’ve found someone who actually appreciates me for once and I plan to be with her.>

<Since when were YOU ever going to swear undying devotion and loyalty to someone you just met? I don’t give a damn how good the bitch looks, no one’s worth THAT!>

<Fight her, Aleck!> Chantelle commanded, her voice filled with steel now. <That bitch has got your head all fucked up. Show the parasitic skank the door!>

<I… I don’t know if I can…> He could still feel the strong need to appease the redhead, but there was now a part of him that was clearly aware that his adoration wasn’t entirely his own. He wanted to resist the spell he knew he was under, but it seemed so much easier to just give into the enchantment.

<Ah fuck,> Chantelle hissed impatiently, <quit bloody whinging, pull your thumb out of your love-struck arse and just frigging do it!>

<Home and fuck and the prom queen.> Alec finished her sentence. <Yes, I watched the movie too.>

“Alec?” Blaise frowned, obviously taken back by his lack of response, “I asked you a question, aren’t you going to answer me?”

He looked up into her large blue-green eyes - eyes a moment ago he would have been lost in if Chantelle hadn’t intervened. Gritting his teeth, Alec snapped his mind shut, severing her influence in an instant. The backlash hit him a moment later as unseen daggers felt like they were dicing his brain into dog food. Blinking back the pain-induced tears, Alec forced himself to smile.

Blaise pulled away, her pretty features filled with shock. “How the…?” Alec felt her probes harmlessly bounce off his new shield.

But Blaise’s surprise was short lived, and her superior smirk was quickly back in place. Taking a step back, she sat down on the edge of her bed and crossed her long legs. “Never-mind, lover, play hard to get. In the end you’ll still be mine.”

“Like hell I will…” Alec shot back as he attempted to rise. Then his vision seemed to blur out, colours and shapes suddenly blurring into an incoherent kaleidoscopic mess. Blinking, he found himself back in his room, still in bed.

Chantelle knelt by his side, her expression one of genuine concern. She was dressed in mismatched P.J.’s, an odd occurrence because her wardrobe always seemed immaculate. If not for the fact he knew she didn’t sleep in his world, Alec would have sworn she’d just gotten out of bed. Her hair was even suitably mussed up to further the illusion of normalcy. A small gesture considering what he knew she was capable of, but he was glad she’d thought to go out of her way.

“You remember when you first met that bitch on the train and you wanted to know more?”

“And I told you ‘don’t go looking to start shit when there’s no need to’?”

“Yeah well, shit just happened.” Chantelle told him as she sat down across his lap.

Alec instinctively wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Her presence, and the warmth of her body, already putting him at ease. He buried his face into the side of her neck, taking in the slight lavender-ish scent of her hair. “Was it real?” he whispered against the pale skin of her throat.

Chantelle paused, “Well, yes and no. It was real in the sense your mind experienced it, but at the same time, it never physically happened. You never left this room.”

“I’m sorry...” The admission was hard for him. “I’m sorry I said those things to you earlier. You were just trying to help and I shouldn’t have…”

Chantelle squeezed him a little tighter. “Forget it sweetness. I knew it wasn’t you talking. The real you, the you I know and love would never have meant that.”

Alec felt the weight over himself lighten. This girl in his arms was more than just a friend. In some unexplainable way, she was as much a part of him as he was. She was his saviour, and his confidant, and someone who could hold him and whisper the right words when he needed to hear them. As sex was not an option between them, they simply couldn’t get any more intimate then they already were. “Can she do it again?” he asked miserably.

“Yup. She found you once already, and I’ve paid enough attention in Telepathy 101 to know she was in your head long enough to find you again. You could probably keep her out the next time, but…” Alec felt her shrug, “I can’t be absolutely sure of it.”

He shivered slightly. That wasn’t a pleasant thought. If Chantelle hadn’t busted in when she had… Fury suddenly replaced fear. That redheaded bitch had tried to control him! If she’d had her way, he’d have been reduced to nothing more than a brainless bloody love-slave! Fuck that for a bad joke! This was the last fucking straw! He was done with being pigeon-holed and forced to do things because of outside influences. This was his goddamn life, and Alec was damned if he wasn’t going to be the one in control of it. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his days looking over his shoulder or living with a full shield on either. That was no better than being caged.

Chantelle bit her bottom lip and turned so she could rest her arms on his shoulders, her wrists crossing behind his head. “Sweetheart, as far as I can tell, you have three choices, you can hope she finds someone else to fixate on, you can spend the rest of your life under a restricting mental blackout, or you can just make the bitch stop.”

“Well hoping never got me anywhere, and I ain’t fucking hiding,” Alec snapped curtly, “So I guess I just need to make the bitch stop.” He suddenly grinned. “Well I suppose I should be grateful that at the very least, your last suggestion didn’t involve me shooting myself. Any ideas?”

What little colour there was drained from Alec’s already pale face. “Kill her? Don’t get me wrong, I doubt I’ll be in a forgiving mood for what she tried to do, ever, but killing her? That’s a bit... extreme, don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah,” Chantelle admitted, “but if scaring her doesn’t work…”

“I know.” said Alec, looking away. Chantelle had to strain to here his next words, “but I hope it doesn’t come to that…”

Jenni set the lacquered box and the leather bound, dictionary-sized book down on her desk and took a seat before pushing the book to one side and cautiously opening the box. It was hardly the case that she distrusted Eliza, but with the enigmatic blonde girl, just about anything was possible. To her immense relief, she wasn’t sucked into a temporal vortex, nor did anything spring out to attack her. Nestled side by side in a specially fitted velvet cushion were a pair of long, thin bladed daggers. Without touching them, she reached for the envelope taped under the lid of the case. Breaking the wax seal with her thumbnail, Jenni extracted the folded note written in neat flowing script, and read:

Not even bothering to wonder how Eliza could possibly know how bad her defensive stances were before actually watching the spar, Jenni tossed the note aside and carefully lifted one of the daggers out of the case. Slightly more than an inch wide at the forte, and tapering off to a perfectly symmetrical point some eight inches down the line, it was a thing of functional beauty. The blade itself was slightly heavier than she’d expected, but closer examination revealed the weapon had been cast as a single piece rather than an assembly job, so the narrow guard, pommel and most of the handle was steel. Double edged like most daggers, there was a narrow blood groove down the centre that made it look like an angular diamond with a circular bite taken out of the left and right corners when looking at it head on. The only modern feature was that the handle had crosshatched black rubber grip pads running down each side to prevent the weapon slipping when wet. As it was clearly intended as a stabbing tool, and guard was little more than a thin strip of metal whose function was mainly to prevent her hand sliding up onto the blade, the rubber grips were more than just modern decoration, they were practical as blood was likely to get on her hands in spite of the blood groove.

In a quick controlled movement, she reversed her hold and executed her favourite sneaky backhand slash before returning the weapon to the conventional position for a forehand crescent strike. The balance was perfect! Grabbing the other dagger, she moved to the centre of the room and went through a couple of the dual knife forms Logan had shown her. The daggers were a little longer than the knives she had practiced with, so her control and range compensation wasn’t quite what she would have liked, but that was nothing a little work couldn’t fix. With the weapons in her hands, she found a strange sense of grace that she’d never had when sparring against Logan. It was like these daggers were more than foreign objects, they were a part of her. An arm or leg that she only had to get used to having. More than satisfied with her new toys, she regretfully returned them to their case. It was late, and she’d have an early start in the morning. But at least now, she had something worth practicing with.

It wasn’t until she was tucking herself into bed that Jenni realised just how fucked up it was for her to be so pleased about receiving daggers as a present.

Allen looked up for his vinegared chips and shot Marc a dirty glance from the other side of their bench. “If it’s yet another recounting of you and Amber playing ‘hide the spaghetti’, then save it, you dero fuck! I’m bloody sick to death of hearing about you getting to play the rebound cock.”

Alec winced. While it was easy enough to understand why Marc was still in such good spirits almost a week after dicking Amber, Allen wasn’t the only one sick of hearing the story. The first time was fine, and not a little envy inspiring, but like any story, repeated tellings only make the breasts bigger and firmer, and the pussy exponentially tighter and wetter. And with Nadine already in Sydney, and no sex on the horizon thanks to his goddamn sense of morality, tales of nookie were irritating. He tuned out his friends, letting his mind return to the events of the evening before and felt his mood darken. Having crosshairs painted on himself was NOT a pleasant feeling. That lupine gutting him was one thing, but there was no premeditation in that. He’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time and it was mere chance that almost got him killed. Remembering the night of the meet, he tagged with the wrong friend to that last thought and added Raphael’s name to the ‘make-them-fucking-pay’ list that already included Blaise de Angelo. The lupine incident was bad luck. Those two, on the other hand, had done what they did deliberately.

But what was he going to do about it? Chantelle had told him Raphael wasn’t really a threat, but that notion went out the window when Raphael’s telepathic probe had almost slipped into his head. Alec still didn’t know why that bald bastard had done it, but coupled with the fact Raphael would undoubtedly have the Order backing him if it came to a confrontation, couldn’t see how he could hope to force the question. A straight out physical attack might work, because he was pretty sure he was the faster and the stronger of them, but he didn’t need to be told that Raphael probably wouldn’t fight fair. Raphael would fight to win. And when it came down to ‘magick’, it was the Order that held the edge.

And as for Blaise de Angelo… he didn’t even want to go there. Where Raphael had failed, she’d effortlessly succeeded and if not for Chantelle, he’d be a lovesick retarded idiot right about now. No, Blaise was clearly too much for him to handle just yet. It would be all he could do just to stay away from her. Going on the offensive would be certain suicide. But not being able to strike back at her or Raphael only made him angrier. This was just how he felt before his ‘change’: weak, powerless, in a word, IMPOTENT! And that was a word that left a sour taste in his mouth. No, he needed to fight back. The only question was how?

A possible solution appeared in his mind. ‘…One thing we can count on is that our enemies, those that actually intend to harm us, do know how to attack, and how to attack well. If we can’t attack in turn, we can’t survive.’ Raphael’s words. The Order refined their skills by preying on those weaker than they were. It made sense. Why fight those stronger without first practicing on those weaker? The more he thought about it, the more the concept appealed to him. Select a target that posed little direct threat, and use it as a practise dummy. He wasn’t about to kill someone, because that was completely insane, but there were still other things he could do…

Alec snapped out of his plotting and found his friends staring at him quizzically.

“Hey speaking about looking pleased,” Marc frowned, “just who was that spiky haired chick with the big tits you ran off with the other day?”

“Come to think of it,” Allen piped in, “first you had that goth sheila at Dave’s party the other week, and now there’s the chick with big tits, what the fuck’s going on here? You collecting a harem behind our backs or something?”

“Mi hoez su hoez.” Marc said, rubbing the side of his nose sagely. “Share and share alike.”

Alec snorted. “Whatever, mate. I didn’t see you offering to share Amber the other night.”

“Eww!” Allen made a disgusted face, “you two wanna share the same piece of arse, fine, but I go first, and when I’m done and out the door, then you two can fight for sloppy seconds.”

“As it so happens, I was man enough to give Amber all she needed.” Marc told them both with a superior grin. “Your sad undersized cocks weren’t required.”

“You, man enough? Don’t make me laugh!” Allen shot back. “And as for undersized cocks, yours was undoubtedly enough for Amber to prefer plastic!”

Alec tuned them out again as another devious smile and an even more devious plan took shape. A plan that promised to kill two birds with the one stone…

Jenni set the big fat book of nasties aside and rubbed her sore eyes in irritation.

It was almost midnight and here she was reading a book full of shit that not only defied logical explanation, but frankly, seemed more applicable as a glossary for fantasy authors than anything else. Etheric matter, vampires, wraiths, even werewolves for fucks sake?!? How could Eliza expect her to believe this nonsense? Her eyes came to rest on the pair of daggers still in their padded case. Her index finger traced the depression of the blood groove down the centre of the closest one. They are so fucking beautiful, she thought idly. And they’re all mine…

Abruptly, she snatched her hand back as if the cold steel had burned her. Were they really hers? These weren’t decorative or ceremonial weapons, they were plain, sleek and functional. Daggers like this were made to serve a single purpose. What the fuck am I doing? she asked herself, before taking a deep drag on her cigarette and silently answering her own question with an answer she really didn’t want to hear. Training up until now had been so hard that she never really had the time to stop and think, but now, stronger, fitter, and considerably more resistant to pain than she’d ever been, she was finally had the time and the energy to waste on aimless musing. She almost wished she was too tired and sore to bother because once she started, the questions refused to go away.

It seemed so damn ludicrous! She was in training, sure, but as she’d smartly pointed out to Logan in Newcastle, she wasn’t here to learn how to take care of herself. She was here to learn how to hurt people. Kill people, if need be.

But what really disturbed her wasn’t the apprehension, because she had that. What was disturbing was the reason behind that apprehension. She wasn’t worried about getting into a scrap and maybe actually killing someone, she was worried about whether or not she’d be able to do it. Not hardening her heart to find it within herself to take a life, but whether she’d find it in her pathetic little self to actually take that life should the need arise. Handing some stranger an express ticket to the afterlife meant little to her. She wouldn’t know these people so it was easy enough in theory. If they meant nothing to her, so what if they lived or died?

Being able to do it meant everything! But it only meant everything because it was the only link she had to her Alec. If she couldn’t fulfil the role Eliza expected her to fill, she wouldn’t meet Alec…

Jenni knew her sense of morality was screwed, but this… this was totally F.U.B.A.R! She had become a moralistic dead zone. It was a weird sort of apathy that simply couldn’t be good for whatever passed for her sense of humanity. And the scary thing was that she really didn’t care. Didn’t care about killing someone, or the moral and social repercussions of such an act. She would do all she needed to do, whatever Eliza and Logan demanded, if it brought her closer to Alec. She was coming apart for a boy! And to add salt, a boy she’d seen only in her dreams!

“Great.” Jenni spat vehemently and turned her eyes upwards. “Hey mister high and mighty, who the fuck told you to give me a woman’s heart huh?”

Stepping off the city-bound train, Alec cut a glance at the luminous display of his watch before irritably tucking away an errant lock of hair behind his ear. It was almost 11pm, and seeing as it was week night, not the least bit surprising that he had the station to himself. Chucking his now useless train ticket into a bin, he unloaded a king’s ransom worth of loose change into the station’s coke machine, got himself the drink of choice, and headed for the exit.

As far as nights went, this one was very pleasant. Autumn was now upon Turnam and the night was about as cool as it could get before turning uncomfortably chilly. Had it been any other night, Alec would have been more than content to simply roam without clear purpose until something struck his fancy, but tonight he didn’t give a crap if he was walking straight into a blizzard. His eyes locked on the pavement before him, he simply walked, head down, hands buried deep within the pockets of his jeans.

The darkened streets seemed to pass by in a blur, but he knew exactly where he was heading. Procuring the address he needed had turned out to be as easy as walking into the school office under a ‘nothing-to-see-here’ shield and pulling it straight out of the school’s personal database. All that had been required after that was a quick check through the Turnam Refidex (Queenslander for ‘street directory’) to work out a route from the train station, and he was as prepared as he was ever going to be. In next no time at all, he found himself staring at a modest single storey red brick house that was but a slight variant of every other house on this street. Alec placed his hand on the waist-high gate but made no effort to unlock it.

Considering what he was about to do, he figured his hesitation was warranted. This was, after all, a big frigging leap in – moralistically speaking – the wrong direction. Simple flirting was one thing, this was another story entirely. Was he ready to take this step? Moving away from the gate, Alec took a seat on the curb and lit a cigarette, partially because he needed a chemical fix and partly because it would, at the very least, give him time to think things through one more time. He considered the consequences this act would have, and was coldly amused to discover he had yet to find any real reason to prevent himself going through with it. Chantelle had seen to it he understood that his life was his alone. He was answerable to no one but himself. The little voice that he considered his conscience still whinged about the wrongness of what he had planned, but as that annoying little voice had yet to come up with a better argument than ‘this is sooo wrong’, it had been largely ignored. His internal moralistic whinger had never served him well in the past, so Alec paid it little mind. This was his life, and as far as he could see, the possible consequences were nothing he couldn’t live with. As long as he didn’t do something terribly stupid, there was no reason at all for the law to even be involved. He would get away from this completely unscathed.

Alec took a final, deep drag on his Griffin, stood up, and let the still burning cigarette fall from numb fingers. Fuck it! He hadn’t asked for this. It was all that goddamn redhead’s fault! Blaise de fucking Angelo. She had set him on this path when she first decided it was a good idea to fuck with his head. Who the hell had given that bitch permission to sneak into his mind and mess him up? He’d been only moderately fucked up with all that ‘happy’ shit before she’d barged into his life and tried to change things. And he knew beyond a doubt she’d tried to change things. Once his mind had been sealed away from her honeyed telepathic intrusion, he’d seen what she was intended to do, and it made him sick. She didn’t want him, she wanted a mindless bloody toy boy to follow her around like a retarded Freddy Prince Junior clone. She’d seen him as a mere fucking possession.

And if not for Chantelle’s timely interference, the bitch would have succeeded.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Raphael had tried to do more or less the same thing. While Alec didn’t think Raphael’s intentions were quite as perverse, that was hardly the point. His friend’s intentions hadn’t been any less selfish. Both had sought to use him for their own ends. Who he was, what he cared about, none of that was even remotely relevant as far as they’d been concerned. He was merely a tool they both wanted control over.

Snorting angrily, Alec stamped out what remained of his dying cigarette with unnecessary force. Their actions shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise. His father had tried to warn him that no matter how many delusional white-lighters there were, the majority would always be aligned with violence and self-service. It was human nature. Despite the angelic cast to his existence, Alec’s nature was still human, and if everyone else was going to be a self-serving bastard, taking whatever they wanted from whoever had it, then he might as well jump on the damn bandwagon too. After all, what was the alternative? Was he just going to sit there and let every fucker and his poodle waltz all over him? Fuck that for a bad joke! People had been walking over him his entire worthless life, it was about time he got around to doing some stomping. So what if someone else got hurt this time? It was about fucking time pain got shared.

Alec snuck around into the backyard and quickly found a window that suited his purposes nicely. It was a little above waist height, and while locked, wasn’t actually airtight. Slipping his pulses into the cracks, Alec first ensured that the room beyond was empty, and then reformed his pulses on the inside as a dense sound dampener. Chantelle had used a similar ward the first time she’d taken him to Nacht, and while she hadn’t actually shown him the mechanics of it, Maleficia had provided enough pointers for him to more or less duplicate the feat. All this ward did was lessen sound vibrations and as such, was fairly easy to hold and maintain. Just to be on the safe side, Alec created a similar ward on his side of the window as well.

Once the sound dampeners had been locked into place, Alec drew his fist into his sleeve and simply smashed the window in. There was still noise, but it had been no louder than the sound of someone dropping a glass next door. He froze all the same, not daring even to breathe as he waited for any indication that he’d been heard. For a full minute, he heard nothing but the chirping of crickets in the background. Carefully avoiding the jagged shards of glass that remained in the pane, he reached inside to pop the latch, then eased the window up, and hauled himself inside.

Looking around, Alec found he had broken into the dining room. In was a small, uncluttered affair that held nothing of interest so he quietly made his way out into the unlit hall, thankful that the carpeting muffled his footsteps. With his pulses mapping out the way before him, the lack of illumination wasn’t a hindrance. The first room he came across was the laundry, and the second what seemed like a bedroom that had been converted into a den of sorts. That left only two more doors, one to the left and the other to the right. Based on what he’d already covered, Alec figured the lounge room would be straight ahead at the end of the hallway, and as the laundry had been to the left, then the closed door ahead was probably a bathroom / toilet combo, and the slightly ajar door to the right the bedroom.

Noticing a faint crack of light under what he assumed was the bathroom, Alec slid his pulses under the door and quickly withdrew them when his suspicions were confirmed. It was the bathroom, and it was occupied. A lecherous smile on his face, Alec slipped into the bedroom and took up position behind the door. All he needed to do now was wait.

Several minutes later he heard the bathroom door open and then the sound of padded footsteps across the passage. Then the bedroom door swung open and the room was bathed in light. A moment later a woman entered the room, a white terrycloth towel wrapped around her body and another in her hands. Admiring her perfectly formed ankles and her deep summer tan that was only just beginning to fade, Alec pointedly cleared his throat. The woman dropped the towel she’d been holding and spun around in shock.

Alec remained silent, his eyes locked on her face. He watched in amusement as the authoritative teacher persona quickly dropped into place. “Look, I don’t know how you got in here, or even how you found out where I live, but you need to leave now.” She told him sternly. “You shouldn’t be in my house, let alone in my bedroom, and certainly not at this time of night!”

Alec’s lips curved upwards into a cruel smile. A week ago her tone would have completely cowered him and he’d have meekly obeyed with his tail between his legs. Now… now there was nothing she could say that would even remotely faze him. All around him people had been doing whatever the hell they wanted and the consequences be damned. Somewhere out there, Raphael’s Order was doubtlessly steering a man to suicide. They had merely decided they were going to do it and because there was no one to stop them, they would. By his reckoning, it was about time he did the same. If Elaine consented quickly, good. If not, no matter. With a mere thought, his pulses expanded to shroud the room in a large sound dampening ward.

“Alec Roth did you hear me!” Elaine’s voice rose to almost a shriek. “I won’t tell you again. Get the hell out of my house!”

As she made to move past him, he grabbed her by the shoulders and roughly shoved her back into the centre of the room. Elaine completely lost it. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing mister?” she demanded, her face turning an angry shade of red.

In a single fluid motion, Alec leaned forward and slapped her hard across the cheek. The blow wasn’t hard enough to knock her down, but it was still enough to stagger her slightly. The change in Elaine was both instantaneous and drastic. Alec’s smile broadened as anger was quickly replaced with shock, shock with uncertainty, and as he took a deliberate step towards her, uncertainty with fear.

“Don’t come any closer Alec,” she told him, but the authority was gone from her voice.

He took another step forward, and then another, backing her up towards the queen-sized bed behind her. Elaine’s blue eyes widened in horror as she felt the edge of her bed behind her knees. If Alec’s intentions weren’t already apparent, they were all too clear now.

“Like hell you will.” Alec smirked, and using his left hand this time, hit her again. Elaine lost her balance and tumbled backwards onto the bed. Nursing her stinging cheek, she backed away until she was up against the headboard. Still smirking, Alec sat down on the edge of her bed. “Lose the towel bitch.”

Elaine made no move to obey, her hands tightly clasped over the knot that kept her towel around her. Alec didn’t bother to repeat himself and calmly began unbuttoning his shirt. Tossing the garment carelessly aside, he stood up, unbuttoned, and then stepped out of his jeans, completely aware that Elaine was watching him closely the whole time. He didn’t need to look at her to know her eyes were wide with fear and her body was trembling. There was no way that she could possibly not know what was about to happen. He drank in her fear. It was so perverse, but at the same time, utterly appealing. She would be his, and unlike his first time with Nadine, he was the one in control. That gave him a rush. Control. Complete, undivided, control.

“Alec please don’t…” Elaine stalled desperately, “you can’t do this…”

He ignored her and finished undressing before climbing onto her bed. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he crawled slowly forward, enjoying the tingling sense of anticipation that came along with backing her into a corner she wouldn’t be able to get out of. His pulses warned him she was tensing her muscles a fraction of a second before she actually moved, so he had no problems intercepting her as she tried to get past him. Knowing exactly what awaited her if she couldn’t get free, Elaine fought like a wildcat and Alec, even with his angelic reflexes and strength, still had a tough time getting her back under control.

When they finally tumbled back onto the bed, Alec held the superior position above her, his hands pinning her wrists above her head. Elaine continued to struggle, much to his amusement. Allowing the perversity of the situation to wash over him, Alec enjoyed the feel of her tight squirming body beneath him. He was content, for the moment anyway, to let her struggle. She could not break free, and all her struggling would earn her was perhaps a couple of extra bruises. And anyway, her delicious squirming made for the lack of foreplay…

He didn’t have long to wait and Elaine quietened down a minute or so later, her body going limp under him. Now, only her fear remained.

“Please,” she panted, “Stop this Alec… I-I promise I won’t tell anyone but you have to stop this right now.”

Alec’s smile couldn’t be any more triumphant. Elaine had lost the towel in their brief tussle and her body felt amazingly soft under his. All too aware of his rock hard cock pressed up against her firm silky thighs, he briefly entertained the thought of complying to her wishes. For less that half a second. It was far too late to turn back now, and anyway, she was his. There was no way he was just going to apologise and walk out now.

Grabbing a fistful of her damp hair, Alec yanked her head back and lining himself up against her, unceremoniously tore straight into her belly. Elaine’s agonised scream was music to his ears. It proved beyond a doubt that he was the one in control. He was the one who was making this happen. Somewhere in the back of his mind, that annoying little whiny voice cried out that this was rape. The rest of him was too caught up in the sensual perversity of the act to give a shit. What did it matter if what he was doing was something he’d considered more than just wrong only days ago? This was his fucking life and he was going to do whatever the fuck he wanted with it. And if Elaine wasn’t going to willing give herself to him, well so-fucking-what? It wasn’t like she could stop him from just taking what he wanted. This bitch wasn’t going to have any power over him, she had nothing she could hold over him, nothing to control him. On the contrary, he would be the one with all the power here. So what if he was being a predator? It was about time he stopped being prey.

Pulling out slightly, he paused to savour in her horrified expression, and then slammed forward again, enjoying her muffed yelp. With deliberate, measured strokes, Alec worked himself into decent rhythm he felt was easy enough to sustain for as long as he wished. While still damp from her shower, Elaine was by no means dripping wet, but it didn’t take her body long to lube up under Alec’s jackhammer thrusts. Entwining his fingers between hers, he pulled her arms over her head and held them there. She had quit fighting when he entered her, and now, quietly sobbing with her face turned to one side, seemed resigned to just lie there and let him take her.

Alec rolled off of her and onto his back. “Get on,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for protest. Elaine didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes, didn’t do anything to even indicate she’d heard him. Alec felt his temper rise. The bitch was being disobedient!

Leaning over her, he pulled her wrists together, held them in his left hand over her belly, and slapped her again and again until her eyes snapped open. He had been hoping to find anger in her sky blue eyes because that would mean he still had some work to do breaking her, but the fear he found instead was just as satisfying.

Alec’s smile was a gross parody of benevolence as he gently stroked her red cheek with the very hand he’d been slapping her with. “Then do as you’re told, Elaine.”

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Elaine nodded, and when Alec rolled onto his back again, she hesitated only for the briefest of moments before throwing a leg over his body and then straddling him. Seconds later he was again buried to the hilt between her thighs. Elaine wasn’t moving as fast as he would have liked, nor did she take him in all the way, but Alec was content to dig his fingers into the firm globes of her fantastic arse. Let her fuck him as slow and as shallowly as she wanted, the point was she was still doing his bidding. It gave his ego an extra kick to know that, despite the apparently leisurely pace their fucking had assumed, Elaine wasn’t getting off on it and was still a very unwilling partner. He was still the one in control.

After a couple of minutes at her pace, Alec felt it was about time he finished things up. Roughly pushing her off him, he held her face down on her own bed and took her from behind. Alec quickly returned to his initial controlled lunges, enjoying the wet slap of flesh as Elaine’s beautiful arse served as a bumper he could bounce off. Back in the dominate position, it didn’t take long before he tensed up, and after long delicious moment on the brink, exploded deep inside her silky but unwilling embrace. His eyes clamped tightly shut in the ecstasy of both control and release, Alec hammered out the last couple of brutal thrusts as he ran his orgasm out.

Collapsing over her, he basked in the post-orgasmic afterglow, his nose buried in Elaine’s thick golden brown hair. She was quietly sobbing into the pillow beneath him and he had to admit, there was something vaguely pleasurable about the slight tremors that ran through her body. He still held her wrists pinned to her sides, not because she might escape, but because he enjoyed the feeling of control that came with holding her down. It was much more primal than he was used to, and served to enforce the fact that he was the dominant one here. Moving his head a little to the right, he kissed the side of her neck. It was a gentle, soothing gesture a lover might have made, but they both knew it was complete bullshit.

Whistling a merry tune, Alec eased himself off Elaine’s prostrate form and let his eyes trail over her beautiful sweat slicked skin. She looked just as he imagined an oiled concubine would look… Concubine… yes. That sounded about right. Blaise had tried to take him, and Raphael wanted to use him for whatever the fuck it was that goddamned Order wanted. It was high fucking time he did something for himself. Or took someone for himself. Reaching out, Alec gave Elaine’s beautifully firm arse a playful slap. She whimpered, but made no move to pull away. That single act of reluctant compliance sealed the matter in his mind.

He glanced at the clock by Elaine’s bed. It was almost half past 12. If he hurried, he could still make the last train at 1:10. As he dressed, Alec amusingly considered how he was worried about getting home when he’d just bent a woman to his will and fucked her into compliance. He wasn’t even eligible for a learners permit yet, and he’d already done what tons of guys probably fantasised about, but never quite worked up the nerve to do.

He finished lacing up his boots and standing up, did a quick pocket check to ensure he had everything he’d brought with him. Satisfied, and still a little buzzed from the intensity of the whole thing, his attention returned to Elaine. She hadn’t moved since he’d gotten off her, and her long legs were still slightly spread. Alec smiled and grabbing a handful of tissues from the dispenser by her bed, he carelessly tossed them at her.

Halfway across her room, he turned to once more regard the completely defeated woman – who would never be an authoritative figure to him again - sprawled out on the bed he’d just fucked her over in.

Elaine lifted her tear stained face off the pillow, her expression clearly horror stricken. “No! You can’t…”

“I damn well can,” Alec told her dismissively. “And I’m not nearly done with you yet…”

The Nephelim
Chapter 7
animus and Staine

Act VII

The Nephelim Chapter 7 animus and Staine

Act VII

The Nephelim
Chapter 7
animus and Staine