Night's Omen

Selene walked slowly on the sidewalk, phone to her ear as she searched through her bag for her wallet. "No, no," she said to the person on the other end of the line. "No, he said no shifting. No roughhousing. No nothing. Bed rest," she spat.

On the other end, Loic sighed. "Did you ask if he thought my power would impact you negatively?"

"I did, but he couldn't say." She paused, looking up. She had a sudden strange feeling rush through her, like she was being watched.

"What?" Loic said, aware of how her voice trailed off. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just - I don't know, I got a weird feeling," she confessed.

"Maybe you should just come home," he suggested. "Skip the errands."

Selene snorted into the phone. "Oh, are you going to come do something as mundane as Christmas shopping?"

"No, and neither should you. We don't like anyone enough to give them gifts."

"Yeah, yeah, well - it's good to keep up the appearance of positive relationships, Loic. You were a warlord. You know this." She stopped, having arrived in front of the department store she wanted. "Listen, I'll call you when I'm on the way home, okay? It's only going to be an hour." She paused, hearing him make a noise. "I'll be fine. One hour, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. "But I don't like it."

"You don't like anything," she challenged.

"I like you," he said, voice softening.

"I like you, too," she laughed. "I'll be home soon."

Selene walked through the department store, basket on her arm, small items such as scented candles and Christmas ornaments in them. In her other hand, a bottle of red wine. Just because she couldn't enjoy it didn't mean it would make a bad gift.

"How."

It was not a question, it was a demand.

Selene turned, brow arched, having a sneaking feeling that the demand was directed at her. She wouldn't have been wrong, either - she turned to face a shorter woman with long, dark hair and honey-gold eyes. She knew that she recognized her, but she couldn't place her face. "I'm sorry?" she asked, mind still indexing what she'd need to do when she got home, before Loic sequestered her to the bedroom.

The woman was gone, very suddenly, and before Selene would really say or do anything, she was behind her, a knife pressed against her round belly. She froze so badly that she dropped the wine, and the bottle shattered, spraying red liquid all over the white floor, and both of their shoes. "Don't," she hissed. "Please don't."

  "Walk. Straight to that exit door. Now," the woman said.

Selene did as she was told, considering fighting back. The woman was a vampire, that much she could tell. Selene had taken them out in the past, but it wasn't her specialty. She thought perhaps she could take her by surprise, and at least get away from her. She'd call Loic; he could be there in an instant. Could he still feel her? She had been feeling pain when she was under stress, but would it be worth the risk? She was pushed through the door, and found herself in an empty stairwell.

The woman let her go, walking to face her, and gestured to her with the knife. "Tell me."

Selene swallowed, hard. Fuck, this was the most scared she could remember being - even from childhood, things had never scared her. They had only enticed her, sparked her curiosity and sense of adventure. But this? This situation was volatile, she could feel it. She tried to keep her emotions tightly contained; if this vampire knew Loic, she'd know that he should be able to know if his pet hawk was in distress. She didn't want to tip her hand; it was all she had.

"Who are you?" Selene demanded.

The woman rolled her eyes, but she did lower the knife. "Come on," she sang, walking towards Selene and then around her in a small circle. "Think really hard. I'm sure you've read it in his history books. Does he still keep all the ones that mention him? Back when I was with him, he had scribes writing scrolls for years, documenting every conquest, every win, every nightmarish victory." She held the knife up again, but it was merely something in her hand, and she pressed her fingertips to the point of the blade idly, spinning it.

Oh, fuck. Selene realized who the woman was, and her eyes went wide for a moment until she could reign it in. "I see," she said, her voice thin, the hint of a tremble on it. There was absolutely recognition on her face, and Ember gestured to her.

"Now, answer my question," she directed.

  Selene hesitated, but realized that she wasn't getting out of this. She looked away, and began to speak, unable to make eye contact with the raven. "It was when he was human," she said softly. "I know you remember. You were all affected by whatever it was."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Ember snapped. "So he turns human and the first thing you did was fuck?" She snorted. "You should have killed him and run when you had the chance. He has no hold over us as a human," she informed her, tone sharp. Ember could not fathom, in any reality, where she would have ever let that piece of shit touch her again, let alone put a fucking baby in her.

"I know," Selene said. "Listen - I will give you whatever you want. Please, just let me go. I won't even tell him. I swear."

Ember laughed a little. "You're not lying," she said, her voice impressed. "You really wouldn't tell him about this. Why? What would he do to you?"

"He wouldn't do anything to me. It's what he'd do to you," she replied. Something in her tone was pained, as though she were speaking of an outcome she didn't want. "I know who you are. I know what he did to you. He will come for you, Ember. He will never stop. He will take everything you have and crush it until it turns into dust. You know this. So please, just let me go. I'll walk out of here, and we will never, ever see eachother again."

"Pffft, do you think he still scares me?" Ember said, a Look on her face. "If you know what he did to me, you know he already took everything from me," she snapped. "So now, it's my turn." Her expression darkened, and all humour had drained from her voice. "It's my turn to take."

Irene had gone; where, Sylvia didn't know. She supposed they had already killed her. As she looked upon the massive stake in the center of town, she could see that the wood in the pile had already been scorched. That and, there was the remnants of a body. She tried not to think about that, though. She closed her eyes tight, asking again for God to save her, but a sharp cuff to her head forced her eyes open again.

"Confess, witch," the man spat.

"Reverend Lockwood, you know me!" Sylvia cried, trying to appeal to his common sense. "I played with your girls when we were young! You married my parents! I cannot be a witch, I am not a witch," she insisted.

"Don't listen to her, Matthew. She's trying to bespell you," another man hissed to the reverend, jerking Sylvia to the side to let the man pass. To prove his point, he stuffed a gag in her mouth.

She was lead up to the stake, hands bound, and then secured with ropes. The ash was still warm at her feet, and she swore she saw a hand half-buried in the rubble. Around her, a crowd was beginning to build. Strangely, her brother was not in it, not that it would have mattered. Jeremiah had chosen his side. She wanted to tell them that it was he who summoned the dark lord to their town, not her, but they'd left the gag in.

"Sylvia Talbot, on this day of the twenty-second of April, in the year of our lord 1693, you stand accused of consorting with the devil, and of witchcraft. Confess, and end this madness. Confess, child, and save your soul!" the reverend commanded.

"Mmf-hmm," she said, and the reverend rolled his eyes and gestured to someone to pull the gag from her mouth.

"I AM NOT A WITCH!" she screamed.

The reverend regarded her for a few more moments, and then nodded to the man who stood at the ready with a torch. "God save your soul, child," he sighed. He turned to the crowd, raising the hand that held the Bible high above his head.

"And let all who are here today witness what happens when one of our flock is lead astray by Satan!"

"Man, you people never fuckin' learn," said a man directly in front of him. The reverend had not noticed him before - mostly because the man had not wanted to be noticed before. He wore dark clothing and a hat that obscured his face, but with his head tipped up, all the reverend could really notice was his eyes. They were of a bright blue and they burned.

"A warlock!" the reverend screamed.

"Christ," the man spat. He raised a hand, and the entire crowd - men, women, children, and some animals - all fell down. He took a step back for a moment, clenching his muscles as that bolt of power had ripped through his body most uncomfortably. He hadn't done a mass feed in a while, and for good reason. He didn't often let loose, but boy when he did - still, it was the quickest way to his goals. Sylvia's screaming brought him back to reality, and he rushed to the stake. The fire had already started, and she was dancing about around the stake, having wiggled through her ropes, but not enough to get out completely. As it stood, she would have some minor injuries, but he wasn't worried about that.

"Come on, I got you," he soothed, loosing the ropes and pulling her from the flames. She was no longer just screaming; her screams had turned into loud sobs that had screams attached to them. He could feel her pain intensely; she was full of emotion. So much so that he thought briefly about having to subdue her with magic to get her to calm down so he could get her out of town. He didn't though, because she had stopped screaming and instead was trying to breathe deeply, now coughing from the smoke that had been previously forcing its way into her lungs.

"We need to leave," he told her, crouching down next to her.

Sylvia looked up, hands and knees in the dirt as she wretched. "Are you an angel?" she asked, rocking back so that she could wipe at her eyes with her arm. She hissed as she realized she'd not escaped unscathed, and surveyed burns as she trembled from pain and shock.

"No," he said, holding his hand out to her. "I can fix that, but we really do need to go. They'll be up again soon."

She stared at him for a moment longer, and then took his hand. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I'm Sylvia."

"Chadwick," he said, giving her a little nod. "Come on, I have a horse not far. We need to put some distance on us. I'm sure I'll hear about this one," he muttered to himself.

She nodded and followed him, though Sylvia had no idea what he'd hear or from who. She knew very little of the world outside of this place, only what her brother had told her. At the brief thought of her brother, she grit her teeth and felt her insides harden to stone. She let out a slow, steady breath behind Chadwick, trying not to bump her burns.

When the arrived where Chad had tied off his horse, he turned to look at her. "Okay, let me see those burns," he instructed.

Sylvia held out her arms, and then tugged up the edges of her dress to show where she'd gotten singed on her calves, too, and Chad made a noise that she did not understand. He took her hands, and told her to close her eyes, and she'd feel a tingle. She had no idea what that meant, either, but she did as she was told, and felt herself suddenly relaxed. She felt as though she'd been surrounded by a gentle white light, like nothing had ever been wrong before, and nothing would be again. She opened her eyes, and the man was grinning at her.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak. He helped her onto the horse, and then got on after her, guiding the beast on the path out of town. Finally, she said, "You said you weren't an angel. But, you are."

"Not long before we can stop and rest," was all he responded.

Sylvia had made a makeshift bed upon the hay they'd tossed into her cell. It was moldy and damp; she assumed they'd parsed the bales out so they wouldn't set fire - no doubt yet another thing they'd blame her for, of course. She sat up, making a face in the dark as pieces of the hay stuck into her like needles, and moved off of the pile and onto the cool earth. Perhaps it was better to lay in the dirt. Perhaps then God could hear her.

She heard coughing coming from a space adjacent to her, but she couldn't see exactly where. They were in cages inside a wooden shed, and only tiny bits of light peeked through, but not enough for her to make out solid shapes. The coughing came again, this time harder, deeper, and gave Sylvia the idea that there was sickness in them.

"Are you well?" she asked hesitantly, not really expecting an answer.

"I think I should pray that I may not make the trial," the voice replied, between coughing.

"Irene?" Sylvia asked, surprised. "I thought they killed you!" Sylvia rose, going to direction that Irene's voice came from, and grasped the bars, pressing her face to them. "Oh, I'm so happy to hear the sound of your voice. I thought I was alone in here."

"You may soon get your wish," Irene muttered. "They mean to burn me tonight. You might last another day or two at most. It helps that your brother is on the council," she said bitterly, and Sylvia was positive that there was a double meaning to her words.

"But we are not witches," Sylvia said, confused. "You are not a witch. I am not a witch. How could they find us guilty of witchcraft when we are not witches?"

Irene snorted. "Idiot child," she chided. "Tis a farce. Tis meant to be a way to stifle us, or teach us lessons. Tell me, have you denied any man your hand? Or any other part of your body, for that matter?"

Sylvia was appalled. "No, there have been no suitors - "

"Perhaps from afar, then. Perhaps there was also a portly wife who noticed her husband's wandering eyes and thusly you were accused of bewitching him," Irene insisted. "Sylvia, mark my words - we are not in here by chance."

Sylvia sat down, back to the bars now. She looked up into the darkness of the ceiling, and sighed. "Did you reject someone?" she asked curiously.

Irene laughed, and it was a throaty, scratchy sound. Thankfully it was dark, so Sylvia could not see that Irene had ripped a piece of her dress off to dab at the blood that sprang from her mouth every time she coughed. It was tuberculosis, though she didn't know that yet. Just evidence of how she paid a price for using magic; it must be that God's wrap had stricken her down for her betrayal.

"Yes," she replied, after she was done coughing and laughing.

Sylvia frowned. "Well, who? Who would accuse you of witchcraft because you rejected them?"

"Your brother," came the reply.

---

Sylvia awakened again with a start. It was dark, strangely so, and there was a breeze. She looked around, siting up to get her bearings, and realized that her cage door was open, as was the door to the shed.

"Irene?" she called softly.

She heard stirring from the cage adjacent to hers, and thought for a moment. Was this a trick? Would the council free them to see if they would run? By running, she may look guilty - but she'd been praying non-stop and God had not shown them her innocence. She thought back to something that Jeremiah had said before, asking her what if there was no God at all? She hesitated, and then put her arms out to stop herself from hitting the bars of her cage, or anything else for that matter, and carefully picked her way out.

She was maneuvering her way around in the dark to Irene's cage, but realized that hers had been opened as well. She called her name again, but still received no answer. Whispering outside drew her attention, and she went back towards the door, pressing her body against the wood to hide herself as best she could in the darker parts of the shadows.

"Irene, come with me, this can all be over," she heard Jeremiah saying.

Irene coughed, and Sylvia closed her eyes - had there been any doubt in her identity before, the cough had proven it wrong. "I said no, Jeremiah. You were content to accuse me of witchcraft, and now you only show regret because your sister became involved as well. You thought you could wield your position on the council to benefit you, but you forget that those men are older and have been in power far longer than you. They used you, not the other way around. And now Sylvia is going to pay the price."

"And you?" he asked darkly.

She laughed. "I've been coughing up blood for days. Tis the consumption. Either they burn me, or I drown in my own blood. Tis all the same to me," she snapped.

"Burn, then," Jeremiah said glibly.

"Brother!" Sylvia called, choosing this moment to reveal herself. She greeted him by grasping him tightly, squeezing him so hard that her arms hurt. "Jeremiah, please, you know these are falsehoods, you must get us out of here. Please, tell them the truth," Sylvia pleaded.

Jeremiah looked at her for a long while, and then leaned in, giving her a kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry, sister dear," he whispered. He lifted his head, then, and yelled loudly, "THE WITCHES ARE ESCAPING!"

Sylvia was frozen in shock, and in horror. "No," she whispered. "No, Jeremiah. NO, PLEASE, YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" She began to screech as men grabbed her from behind, and as she was dragged kicking and screaming back into the dark of the shed, her screeching only grew louder and more insistent. "BROTHER! BROTHER! TELL THEM!" she yowled, like some sort of rabid, cornered animal.

Irene said nothing as she was apprehended, but she did make it a point to cough on Jeremiah, landing a massive glob of blood and spit on his face.

"You're gonna burn in hell for this," she hissed, being jerked away before she could say anything further. Men called for gags to stifle their screaming before they could utter any curses, but it was all well and good - she'd said all she had to say.

  Birthdays weren't really celebrated where Sylvia lived. They were considered frivolous, and encouraged idolatry. Sylvia was neither of those things, and so she quietly went about her day, from waking her younger siblings to making breakfast to feeding the animals to running errands. Errands, specifically, she had not looked forward to. The old shopkeep had been leering at her since she turned 15, and it made her uncomfortable. She was glad to have her brother with her, even if she was forced to. It would be improper to wander about on her own.

"Tis lovely outside," she offered, trying to make conversation with her brother, who had thus far remained silent. The walk into town was not long, but long enough for them to converse freely.

"Indeed," Jeremiah muttered.

Sylvia frowned. "Brother, is something on your mind?" She tugged at his arm a little. They had always been so close, despite him being older - lately, though, he seemed distant. She couldn't discern as to why.

Jeremiah looked at his sweet sister, and felt an ache in his chest. Could he tell her the truth? That he'd seen a dark man in their barn who had held out a dark book for him to sign? He hadn't, yet, but he'd been thinking about it, despite knowing that it would mean certain death if anyone knew. The dark man came every night to see if he'd considered the offerings of eternal life, wealth, and the prospect of being his own god rather than some nameless, faceless, ever-present sense of anxiety looming in the sky.

"Tis a special day," Jeremiah said finally, his hand over hers. That dark man had given him a gift to give to Sylvia for her birthday. Jeremiah hadn't even told him the occasion was approaching; he simply knew, and had produced from the folds of his cloak a lovely trinket. It was a hair comb, decorated modestly with a single red gem. It was silver filigree, with teeth wide-set apart enough that it could sit in her thick blonde hair comfortably. It was quite lovely, and Jeremiah had often taken it from beneath his pillow where he'd hidden it to admire it.

"No it isn't," Sylvia said, though her cheeks reddened a little. Always so hard-pressed to have any attention on her, Sylvia was. She was the perfect example of modesty and piety.

"Yes, it is," he said, stopping on the dirt path. He turned to her, and put his hands on her face. "Tis the day I was graced with an angel such as you." He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, then, and smiled. "Of all our siblings, you are my favourite. Don't tell the others, though; I think playing favourites is considered ungodly."

Sylvia laughed her shy laugh, but couldn't hide her smile. "Brother, you flatter me. We are only separated by three years, but it feels like some days we could be twins."

"I've gotten something for you," he said, and pulled the comb from his pocket. "You can't show anyone, sadly, but perhaps someday - "

"Jeremiah," Sylvia exclaimed, stepping back from him as she saw the gift. She looked horrified, not elated. "I cannot accept this," she hissed. "Tis too rich, father would - "

"Forget what father and mother would say," he snapped. "Sylvia, there is an entire world outside of this place that we're in, and there, nobody would care if you wore such a trinket in your hair. They might even admire it; attempt to procure one of their own, in fact," he insisted. "Now, I realize that I'm acting out of sorts right now, and I understand your hesitation, but sister - what if - what if I left?" he asked, finally.

"What?" she said, eyes squinting in confusion.

"What if I left? What if we left? We could leave tonight if we wanted."

"Jeremiah, have you been bewitched?" she demanded. "We couldn't just leave. We have no money, nothing but the clothing on our backs, and father and mother - we must, stay, we must stay and honor them and care for the family," she rambled.

Jeremiah grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a shake as she babbled about her duty in Christ to be a good daughter. "Fuck Christ," he finally spat. "Tis all lies, Sylvia."

She yanked out of his grasp, face twisted in disgust. "I should go into town on my own today," she said, straightening her modest brown dress. "I will tell them that you had to turn and go home to help with the horses," she added. "Give me the money father gave you to purchase our supplies." She thrust her hand out, palm up. The gesture was hostile, and it matched the look in her eyes.

"Sylvia - "

"Give me the money, brother," she insisted. "Give it to me, and go home, and we shall forget this ever happened."

Begrudgingly, he gave her the money, and watched helplessly as she walked away from him in the direction towards town, pulling her cloak a little more tightly about her shoulders as the wind picked up. When he lost sighed of her, he heaved a loud sigh, then bent down to retrieve the rejected gift that she'd dropped in the dirt. His fingers brushed against the toe of a black shoe, and he fell backwards, squarely on his rear.

"I see she did not love the gift," the dark man said. "Tis a pity. It would have suited her."

"She did not love much of what transpired," Jeremiah admitted bitterly. He got up from the ground, brushing his backside off.

"Perhaps she would not come with you as you previously suggested," the man said, a hint of something in his voice that Jeremiah did not understand.

"I could make her," Jeremiah insisted. "I could make her see."

"I don't think so, child," he replied. His voice was soft, quiet and smooth; like the hiss of a snake, but not. "And you?"

Jeremiah shook his head. "I did consider your offer, but I cannot sign your book, sir."

The man shrugged. "Perhaps you will change your mind," he said cryptically, "in the upcoming weeks. Should you find yourself on the precipice of that decision, all you need do is call my name, child, and I will be there."

Jeremiah swallowed. "And what is your name?"

"I think you know," the man said. And then he was gone, and Jeremiah was left standing alone on the dirt path.

  Shit was hitting the fan. Narkisa heard Corinne screaming Niall's name and sensed Raphael calling her at the same time. She paused, not knowing whether to go towards the yelling or towards his beckoning, but he broke into her thoughts, issuing a solid NOW to her. She was unable to resist, and her muscles flexed for a moment as she dwelled, then spun on her heel and sprinted through Midnight, running to where she knew the cells were. She slid to a stop in front of the elevators, and when she realized they were both up several floors, she hissed.

"Fuck it," she said, flinging open the massive doors to the stairs. Fucking narrow pieces of shit, she nearly fell on her ass a few times as she raced down, nearly slamming directly into Raphael as she came skittering around the corner. "Fuck!" she yelled in surprise, jumping back from him. "You scared the fuck out of me! What is going on!?"

He reached out, his hands firmly planted on her shoulders. "Listen to me very carefully. I need you to try and beat Cerberus to wherever he's going. Just - just get on the road, I'll give you the address as soon as I have it." He glanced over his shoulder as he heard noise coming from the other way. "Fuck," he hissed to himself. It was Stefan's voice. He didn't know which side he'd be on, but he wasn't going to keep her around to find out.

"Raph, what the fuck is happening?" his bloodbond asked again, and this time when he urged her to leave, she slapped his hands off of her. "No! Look," she said, dropping her voice. "Corinne is upstairs freaking out, and I think - I think she fucking killed Verity," she said, her voice shaky with adrenaline.

"It's happening," he said, and for a moment, she didn't know what it was, but then she looked past Raphael to Stefan and watched as he hit the bars of a cell, hard.

"Is this a fucking jailbreak?!" she asked, her accented voice shrill.

Raphael closed his eyes, tipping his head back for a moment. "Listen, Narkisa, just go, please," he urged her. "Get there before Cerberus. I'm pretty certain he's on our side, but I don't trust anyone at the moment. Kill him, if you have to," he said, dropping the bomb on her.

"I - what?" she barked. "Whose side are we on?"

"A little help here!" Stefan called.

"For once in my life, the right side," Raphael told her. "I know he was told to retrieve an asset, but I don't know if he's going to retrieve an asset or to kill an asset. Narkisa, do not let him do anything stupid. Get there first, see if you can get the asset back here. We need a particular kind of firepower I think only this one can bring. Can you do it?"

"Yeah," she said, completely beside herself. "Yeah, I can." She turned to leave, but felt him hook her arm and pull her back.

"If we get out of this, Narkisa, you're free. I promise. No tricks. I'm done. We're done."

She looked at him for a moment, a look of confusion, and then horror crossing her face. "What? No - Raphael, that - that can kill me, I'm as fucking old as dirt. If you release me, I'll just turn into dust!"

"Then I'll turn you!" he argued. "I don't care, just - we're running out of time, go," he commanded.

She stared at him for a moment longer, and then turned, running back for the stairs. SO many fucking stairs. She busted out through the door, avoiding Raven Guard killing eachother in the hall, and headed for where the vehicles were kept. She grabbed a handful of keys off the rack, pressing alarm buttons until one close to her chirped, then ran to it, dropping the other keys on the ground as she did so.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," she chanted, backing out of the drive recklessly and dumping the car onto the street. Why were they in the middle of fucking nowhere? Of course we are, she thought bitterly. Couldn't traffick people through an establishment on the corner of a busy street, now, could they? She sped down the road, hitting some railroad tracks hard enough that it shook her teeth. "Whoops!" she said, to nobody.

She didn't know what direction she was supposed to go, so luckily she had picked the right one when Raphael sent her the address. Mentally, of course - it would've been too easy for him to text it so that she could just select the navigate option. She tried to drive and punch the address into the GPS, nearly hitting another car while she tried to do so. "Fuck!" she yelled, swerving into the shoulder and then around the car before she slammed into it. She pushed the talk button on her phone and yelled the address into it, relieved when it chose this time to understand her.

Since Cerberus had had a detour, Narkisa beat him to the address. She got out of the car, unsure of what she was walking into, and walked quickly up the stone path to the rather posh home. She looked around once she reached the door step, realizing several things: it was late, it was dead quiet outside except for her vehicle having just nearly taken out their mailbox, and she didn't know whose house she was at. How to approach this? She settled for knocking timidly at first, but she heard no response from inside. She tried again, this time harder, and finally resorted to pounding on the door with her fist.

It flung open at that, and she lept back, absolutely having not expected that. A very large man stood in the doorway, and he looked annoyed.

"Can I fucking help you?" he asked, though it was more like a low growl.

"Uhh... it's happening?" she said, hoping that he'd know what she meant.

She heard noise from behind the door, and saw him look away for a moment to argue in hushed tones. After a few more seconds, the door was pulled open more by something behind it, and Jillian stuck her head out into the cold.

"Narkisa?" she asked, confusion on her face. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"She said "it's happening"," the man replied.

"Oh," Jill said. "OH!"

Behind them, Cerberus' SUV pulled into view, and it did successfully take out the mailbox. The window rolled down, and the man shouted over someone in his passenger seat. "Beat me to it, I see," he called.

"Yeah - there was some doubt about where you fell in all of this," she called back, now completely ignoring the seething Triste and the confused historian.

"The right side, girly," he chuckled.

Whatever or whoever was next to him began clamoring about in the vehicle, and she heard the sound of Cerberus arguing with him about 'that's what a fucking seatbelt does' before the door opened and a man fell out, tangled up in - the seatbelt. He was yelling something about Layla, hanging like a fish in a net helplessly while Cerberus had to go and untangle him.

"What the bloody fuck is going on?" Narkisa breathed.

"That's precisely what I'd like to know," Gareth snapped.

Separately from Stefan, Victoria had run down to the cells for her own purposes. She stepped over fallen bodies of Raven Guard, steeling herself as she continued on. What the fuck was happening? It seemed that the Midnight Hierarchy was finally collapsing in on itself, and though Victoria would be irritated to find a new home, she had long since stopped trafficking and had concentrated on more valuable things - knowledge, mainly.

She had down in the cell a particular Serpiente who had knowledge of all sorts of things about the royal family - things that were not common knowledge. She'd been threatening him with violence, but he'd only spit in the white viper's face when she did. Now, she would offer him a choice - freedom, or die in the cell when the building eventually turned to rubble.

She passed the hullaballoo with Stefan, Raphael, and the blonde in the cage, ignoring it all for the time being. Something told her to go back, but she had to get what she came for, first. As she approached the cage, she saw that he was already up and moving.

"Lorenzo," she said, her voice hurried, but hushed. "Tell me what I need to know, and you walk out these doors, and we will never see eachother again."

The Serpiente regarded her for a moment, dark eyes narrowing. "You're scared," he said slowly. "Why are you scared?"

She stared at him, then set her jaw. "Fine," she said quickly, taking her hands off the bars and turning. "You can rot." She was walking fast, too, and almost didn't stop when he called out to her. Almost. She turned, slowly, face curiously devoid of the satisfaction she would've otherwise had. Truth was, she was pretty sure that the longer she stayed, the shorter her lifespan was becoming. She approached the bars again, this time arms folded tightly. She didn't come as close as she had before, either.

He sighed, resting his head against the bars. "Oh, the things you do to me, daughter of Maeve," he said softly. He looked up at her, and for a moment said nothing.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

Quietly, he told her what she wanted to know.

As she opened the door to his cell, he regarded her with a wistful expression. "You know, if you would have just been straight with me, I would have told you anything you wanted to know," he informed her, his accent obvious as he spoke.

She stared at him for a long while, then blinked. "No, you wouldn't have. Your kind are hardwired not to betray eachother."

He reached out, touching strands of her blonde hair. Victoria didn't flinch, but she did clench her jaw a little.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe. But for you? I would have given you the world had you asked."

She rolled her eyes, slapping his hand away. "You'd better give yourself the world and get the fuck out of this building before it caves in," she snapped.

"Well, now that I'm going to be a wanted man for selling secrets, maybe we'll see eachother again, daughter of Maeve," he said, giving her a half-bow before turning and walking casually toward the stairwell.

Maeve stood by the cell a second longer, and then went back the way she came. Where was Stefan? She was going to offer to grab Desten and get her to safety, knowing his predilection for violence might tempt him to stay around and fight it out. She didn't realize she was actually ahead of him, running an alternate hall in the goddamn maze that Midnight was, but as the egresses would all bleed into one eventually. Victoria was ahead of Stefan by only a few paces, but when she rounded the corner, she gasped loudly, raising her hand to her mouth. Her face reflected total shock from what Stefan could see, and he hurried up to find out what it was.

Imagine his surprise when there, in the hall, Betty stood. Her usually angelic face was half-covered in blood from a messy feed, and it stained the front of her light blue dress. Behind her was a body.

"Betty," Victoria said slowly. "What did you do?"

She saw Stefan come up on the other side of the hall, putting Betty squarely in the middle of them. She looked past Betty to Stefan, who was blinking rapidly as he tried to comprehend the scene. On the ground, Desten lay, throat completely torn open, limbs splayed with no defensive wounds. It seemed Betty hadn't given her a chance to fight at all.

"Oh my god," Victoria whispered.

“This is fucking unacceptable,” Justinian growled out, his anger washing out over his companion at the cell door in pulsing, disorienting waves that made Stefan feel unsteady in both stance and mind, but at the same time, there was a calming influence from within the cell itself - like a warm, safe place despite knowing that there was nothing safe about where they were.  It made something inside Stefan's chest ache, and he thought of the home he'd once had, the people he'd once loved, with near crushing sadness as he looked upon the unicorn sheathed in a woman's body.  He'd never seen one before, and he certainly made no claims to being familiar enough to have truly known what she was in an academic sense, but there was nothing academic in this for him.

This was a truth that he felt deep within whatever remained of his soul, deeper than the memories of that home that wasn't ever as comforting as the presence she had, and he knew what he was seeing.  Justinian must have, as well, but whereas Stefan was moved nearly to tears at seeing her, and seeing her caged as she was, the older vampire was utterly furious at the fact that she'd been taken.  Stefan moved almost imperceptively, but it put him closer to the bars, enough that he rested his hand against the cold iron.  It didn't clear his head, because this wasn't a mind trick.

"What do we do?" he asked Justinian, because he knew what he wanted to do, but he was than a century as a vampire and while he was very powerful for his age, he was no match for the powerhouses in this building.  Trying to break her out by force wasn't going to work out in his favor, or hers.

"Verity is already bragging about having her, so if I try to move her immediately, it will raise alarms.  I was told there was a man involved, where is he?" Justinian demanded, obviously annoyed at feeling unable to just act, but Stefan had long ago noticed that the most ancient vampires cut a very weird balance between taking instantaneous, devastating action or laying out the perfect plan.  Stefan hadn't known it was a chess match they were in, but apparently.

"This is him," Stefan informed him when they stopped in front of the wizard's cell.  It had felt like a near physical pain to tear himself away from the unicorn, and it only increased the sense of loss already living inside of him.  If Justinian was similarly affected, he didn't let on that he was. 

"Get a car, Cerberus should be back from whatever inane errand he was on by now.  I'll give you an address that he's to be dropped at," he instructed Stefan, the address appearing in his mind with a mental sensation almost like a slip of paper being flicked at him without a second thought.  Stefan disappeared to go get Cerberus, but not without hearing the rest of Justinian's instructions as he slowed to take in one more long look at the unicorn herself.  "Do you hear me, wizard?  You will find a man named Gareth at the home I'm sending you to.  Tell him that Verity has your unicorn friend and that I will open the doors.  There is no time to waste."

It was true that Cerberus was back, though he was not exactly happy to be summoned from the kitchens, not that he did more than roll his eyes when Stefan told him to bring the car around.  Fortunately, Justinian's name got him moving, so that Stefan met him near a back entrance with only just enough time to bring the wizard up from the dungeons.  They'd moved fast to avoid being seen, but without looking like they were sneaking.  Stefan was on Justinian's orders, after all, and he was himself intimidating enough to prevent most people from stopping him. 

"What happened to the car?" he asked as they approached, Cerberus getting out to get the door for the bloodied wizard who actually would not shut up, even if Stefan wasn't doing a whole lot of talking to him and had actually told him to shut his trap a few times.

"Niall sent me to pick someone up, but he strongly suggested I treat the guy like a really old vamp," Cerberus said, shrugging.  "So I hit him first.  Not sure what he is, but he was trying to run his mouth and get up afterwards.  Normal people just don't fucking do that.  Where am I taking your guy?"

The big black SUV looked like Cerberus had creamed a deer, and if the bitching from the backseat was any indication, the injured party had been dumped unceremoniously back there to be carted off.  Stefan gave the address, frowning at the damage.  "Where did you take the one you hit?  We haven't had anyone come in, especially not that injured."

"Niall said take him to Loic.  Something about 'professional opinion' or some shit, I don't fucking know.  Can I go, or are you gonna ask me what I had for breakfast and where I took a shit next?  I got places to be."

Cerberus got a dry look in return, but no response otherwise as both men turned and went their separate ways. Where Justinian went, Stefan didn't know, but he wouldn't have been surprised if Verity's lounge-inspired 'office' was the man's target, except that...it wasn't Justinian there when he arrived, and the woman he did fine was screaming Niall's name in challenge.

He stopped short, frozen in place and expression closed off as he watched Corinne, pretty well covered in blood, dragging Verity's lifeless body along behind her with her fingers in the dead triste's eye sockets like a damn bowling ball.  For all of the violent things he'd done, he wasn't actually sure that was an image he was prepared for.  He also wasn't prepared for her to spit orders at him (it was apparently a theme for him today, to run into ancient vampires and be sent on errands), but she wanted him to free the unicorn, and that?  That he could do.

He gave her a nod and was gone, headed for the dungeons and the prisoner that never should have been there.  He had to get her out of there, before anything worse happened, because there was no way in hell that Corinne killing Verity wasn't going to blow up everything inside the building.  The faster they got out, the better their chances of survival, but there was another quick stop that he had to make.

He found Ember on his way to the dungeons, actually, which was convenient.  It was not preferred that she was violently murdering a member of her guard, or that another was trying to jump her from behind, which just wouldn't do.  Stefan darted forward, plucking the raven out of midair and changing his trajectory to smash his face into the stone wall.  It wasn't elegant and it left a pulpy mess on the stones, but it wasn't the only blood being splattered across them that day.  He thought back to the literal trail that Corinne left behind, and didn't feel so bad.

"So, obviously, you've noticed that it's happening.  Right fucking now," he told Ember, not out of breath, but not surprised when she was.  He got the feeling that both had jumped her at once, and she'd just tossed the one he killed aside initially.  It didn't matter, because they were both dead now, but it meant that shit was already hitting the ceiling.  "Verity is dead, Corinne is dragging her body towards the atrium and screaming for Niall's attention.  I don't know what Justinian is planning, but he's angry and they've both told me to get the unicorn out of the dungeon.  Are your people ready?"

"We've been waiting for this, I'll give the word."

"Good.  We need to evacuate this shithole.  I wouldn't put it past Niall to bring it down on top of us all."

"We'll do what we can," she said, and he nodded.  There had been enough lives lost already that they could try to save what they could, but he wasn't going to risk their own lives for it.  He was practical, and he couldn't do anything else to help if he was dead. 

"Happy hunting," he told his blood-sister, clasping her on the shoulder firmly and then darting off towards the dungeons.  When he found Raphael in his path, he honestly expected the worst and he was ready to see it through, except that his eyes flicked over to the movement he caught in the cell in front of Raphael - the door was open and obviously damaged to do so, and the occupants were eyeing him fearfully.  He locked eyes with Raphael again, but stepped aside to let them past.  "You?  You're helping?"

"Are you kidding me? Do you know what Katya would do if I told her I had the opportunity to save a unicorn and didn't?" the other vampire shot back, seemingly willing to assume that Stefan was on his side on this and kicking in another cell door.  He was right, because Stefan just darted past him, looking for the unicorn's cell. 

"That's fair, I suppose.  She's here," he called out, stopping in front of her cell and glad that he at least had the keys.  Victoria passed, seemingly ignoring all of them as she went for a cell they hadn't gotten anywhere near yet, and Stefan decided to worry about which key he needed instead of who she was talking to.  One major problem at a time.  "Where's Narkisa?"

"We were too late for her to go with Cerberus to get the monster hunter, so she's meeting him there.  Hoping to instill in him how urgent the situation is, and hopefully give him a reason not to just start killing all of us."

"That would be nice," Stefan agreed grimly, pulling the cell door open and tossing the cell door open and drawing the unicorn's attention to him.  "I'm sorry that you're here at all, but we're leaving.  Can you walk on your own?"

"Yes," she said, standing and striding across the cell quickly to actually take the keys from his hands.  "But if I'm understanding what's happening here, we can't leave anyone in these cells."

"I have to get you to safety--"

"Then help me, and we'll go," she said, her tone lowered and firm, and though he knew that it wasn't the smartest way to do it, he grit his teeth and left her with the keys so that she could open cells as she went while he went with Raphaels' method of just breaking the doors open. 

"Go, go down the hall, get out," he was urging people, glad to see that some that were in better shape were stepping up to help those that struggled, because he couldn't actually stop long enough to move people, not if he was going to get the unicorn out safely.  It was only when the dungeons rang only with the fading echoes of feet on the damp stones that he took stock, and his eyes landed on Raphael.  "I have to get Desten, I left her upstairs in my quarters to keep her safe.  Will you get a car ready?"

To the unicorn, who he dared not touch with his bloodied hands, he gave a short bow that was mostly just his head and shoulders, but it was heartfelt.  "I'll return soon.  This is Raphael, and I'm Stefan.  We'll take you wherever you'd like."

"Layla," she said, and he smiled a little.  "And thank you. Hurry back or we're gonna come looking for you."

It was a nice sentiment, that a unicorn would go looking for him rather than leave him behind, but little did he know, it was an entirely different sort of unfinished business that was going to draw her upstairs, in the end.

incident
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"Do you think I look okay?" Sylvia asked, straightening the red top she wore and smoothing her jeans nervously. She looked at her reflection again in the window of Chad's car, smiling to see if she got lipstick on her teeth.

"Sylvia, you look fine," Chad said, looking over at her. "I promise, our friends are really nice. They will like you."  Christ but he'd forgotten how timid she could be. His only fledgling, he'd met Sylvia around the same time her brother had been turned. She'd always been a proper, sweet sort of girl, and he could see that she had not let go of some of the ways of life from before, even several hundred years in the future. She had an expectation that men were gentlemen and women were ladies - although, as a Triste, she fully understood that a lady could also be a fighter, but still...   If he had to guess, he'd think that she'd rub Dawn the wrong way, which was not a fight he wanted to have.

She studied his face, then frowned. "You don't believe that," she scolded him.

"I think it'll be fine," he told her, giving her hand a pat. "Come on, let's go." And with that, they got out of the car and walked through the parking garage. She trailed behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder, amused to see her tugging at a red ribbon in her hair. Hard to believe she could be quite so vicious when she was fretting over whether or not a satin ribbon was "too formal".

Once they got into Dawn's apartment, after much hemming and hawing had in the hall where she danced nervously, trying to find excuses to leave, she felt Chad trying to 'relax' her a little, and gave him a Look. The look plainly said that she had it under control, and he held his hands up wordlessly, turning to greet his girlfriend.

"Hi," she said, holding a hand out to Sylvia. "Dawn."

"Oh, hello," Sylvia said, taking her hand. "Chad's told me so much about you, it's so lovely to meet you finally!"

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same," she said, her tone less than welcoming. "Anyways, make yourself at home. My sister is in the kitchen with some helpers, feel free to join."

"Of course," Sylvia replied. She went to the kitchen, frowning to herself as she walked through the spacious apartment. Chad hadn't told Dawn about her? She was like a sister to him, what possible reason could he have had for that? She felt like Dawn had perhaps been threatened by her, but it wasn't exactly proper to immediately come out of the gate and say that she shouldn't, was it, now? She'd just let the evening play out. Behind her, she could hear Chad quietly chastising Dawn for her sunny disposition, and politely ignored it.

She walked into the kitchen area, greeted by way more people than she'd expected. A redhead was setting up a bunch of little bowls that had different things in them - sprinkles, candy pieces, et cetera - and an incredibly large man was pulling a rack of cookies out of the oven. There were already several rows of cookies on wax paper spread across the counter, which had more or less been transformed into a little cookie building factory. Seated at the counter and decorating diligently were two other men.

"Hi," she said softly. "I was told to come help?"

Wren looked up. "Oh!" she cried. "Oh, great! You must be Chad's friend. Sylvia, right? Hi, I'm Wren - sorry, my hands are covered in frosting. But, here, sit here," she directed, flitting about like a pixie. She pulled a stool up to Sylvia, putting her directly across from one of the men. "You've decorated cookies before, right?"

Sylvia's eyes were wide; she was actually a little overwhelmed by the cold and hot receptions she'd received. Was Chad sure that he was dating Dawn, and not this one? She seemed way more his type. "Yes, I have - not for a long time, though," she admitted. Years. Centuries, in fact.

"Okay, well, it's really easy. I need to make more frosting, but Odin and Dominic can show you."

"Ha-ha," Odin said, sarcasm evident. "I can't even show myself, Wren," he joked.

"Figure it out," Wren replied smoothly. She left Sylvia at the counter among the rows of cookies and went back to what she'd been doing before, which consisted more of yelling at the other man to stop eating the cookies than actually making the frosting.

Sylvia looked down at the naked cookie man in front of her. Hesitantly, she picked up the white frosting, and began squeezing little buttons onto him.

"I can't tell what I did to this cookie," Odin said, leaning back on his stool. "Whose idea was it to have the blind guy decorate?"

Sylvia looked at his cookie critically. "It's okay," she said. She reached out for his hand, speaking as she did so. "I think it needs some coloured sugar, though. This one," she said, directing his hand to the green sugar bowl. He took a pinch, and she directed it back to the cookie, dropping it ceremoniously.

"It's perfect," she said.

Dominic finally looked over at what they were doing. "It's a fuckin' tennis ball," he said. He looked at Odin. "Congratulations. You made a tennis ball."

Odin grinned. "I like green," he offered, rubbing his fingertips together to rid them of the remnants of sugar that stuck to them.

"So do I," Sylvia said shyly, looking back down at what was becoming a very dapper snowman.

Dom got up, taking an ugly blue cookie that he'd ruined with him to Wren. "Hey, got a second?" he asked.

She looked at him, then the cookie. "Why, you want me to fix that? Because you need to scrape the frosting off and try again." She followed him anyways, stepping into the living room.

He took a bite of the cookie, pointedly. "My cookie is perfect," he said, though the face he made when the mountain of frosting hit his tastebuds said otherwise.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "See why we were never allowed to just eat frosting as kids? Anyways, what? Did you just want to try and establish dominance by eating that in front of me? Weird flex but okay," she joked.

"No," he hissed. "Yo, I think Odin was just flirting," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"What!" Wren gasped. Dominic made a face at her, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Luckily, nobody had heard her - Shaun had turned up the Christmas station on his phone so all they heard was dogs barking to Jingle Bells. "What?!" she said again, this time matching Dom's volume.

"Yeah!" he said. "Like, you know how he's always like nice, right? And quirky? Yo this girl just took his hand for some sugar and now they're talking about how much they like ugly cookies," he spat.

Wren had a thoughtful look on her face. She looked at Dom, then turned at her upper body to look at the two sitting across from eachother, critically studying their interaction. She looked back at Dom. "I don't see it."

Dom slapped his hand on his thigh. "There were giggles," he insisted.

"From who?!" she demanded. "Quit trying to play matchmaker! Go back over there and decorate!"

"I'm not trying to play matchmaker, I'm just - "

"What the fuck are you two whispering about over here?" Chad said, scaring the absolute SHIT out of Dom. He squealed and almost dropped the half-eaten cookie.

"Christmas Gifts!" Wren said, at the same time Dominic said, "New Year's Plans!"

Chad stared at them, and they both slank back into the kitchen. "Fucking children," he hissed to himself. He followed after them, observing how the cookie manufacturing was going. Dawn had finally gotten it through her head that Sylvia wasn't a threat, and was actually sitting next to her, pleasantly chatting and eating more of the cookies than she actually decorated. Close fucking call, there. He'd have to talk to Wren about that one.

Odin said something and they all laughed, but he noticed Sylvia laughed a little more and narrowed his eyes. He felt as though he was being stared at, and looked up - Wren and Dominic were staring back at him.

Hmm.

"Do you know how I got my fire?" she asked, pouring herself a drink. She didn't seem to be watching Aurora as closely as the hunter was watching her, but Aurora knew better than to mistake her polite disinterest for lack of awareness.

"No," Aurora admitted. She shifted uncomfortably in the shackles that they'd put in her, and the irons rattled in an annoying clattering.

"Ah," Iloquil said, as though she'd just realized the bindings were there. "Cerberus darling, could you?" she asked, gesturing with her glass. Iron may not harm Iloquil anymore, but that didn't mean she wanted to debase herself by touching it. The dog didn't care one way or the other, so long as the iron was not on him.

"I suspect you had help getting in here," Iloquil said to Aurora, now studying her as Cerberus worked. She tapped her finger against her glass, as though considering who, but the truth was, they both already knew. Only one person would have told Aurora what would get Iloquil's attention. "I won't ask you to tell me who. I'm not mad, either - in fact, I'm actually rather impressed." She paused, reaching out to move stray strands of Aurora's hair back from her face. When the hunter flinched, Iloquil made a face.

"Please," the vampire said flatly. "If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be dead. This cringing, docile behaviour doesn't become you."

"There you go, all free to ambulate," Cerberus said, irons in one hand as though they were weightless. "Ladies," he said in parting.

"Have a seat," Iloquil said. "I'll hear what you have to say."

"What?" Aurora said, confused.

"You went pretty far to ensure that you had my attention, specifically. And, darling, the one-word, confused, lost-girl approach really doesn't suit you, either. I need you to make your points, and quickly. I'm sure our mutual friend did tell you that I have an incredibly short attention span." She gestured to Aurora to sit down in a chair, and Iloquil took her place across from her. It looked more like a Barbara Walters interview about to take place than storytime with an ancient.

"Okay, "Aurora breathed. If Iloquil wanted Aurora at full throttle, that's what she was going to get. Well, what she could manage, anyways. She didn't even know what day it was, to be honest. She'd sat in the black cells for a long time, worried that the gimmick she'd used to get her in would wear off before she got Iloquil's attention. It had, but not before her objective had been met. Now, of course, was the grand finale.

"I was hired by someone - "

"A mutual friend," Iloquil interjected.

"Uh, yeah, if you want to call them that," she said, frowning a little. She'd never consider vampires friends, especially not these ones in particular, but whatever. "Anyways, I was hired to kill Bacchus," she concluded, just dumping it all out there.

A range of emotions crossed over Iloquil's face, the majority of which Aurora could only label as "angry", but the vampire was so old that there was a more nuanced way that she expressed herself visually, it seemed. She squeezed her glass so hard it fucking broke, though, and looked at her hand, almost as though she weren't sure what had happened. "Not again," she muttered.

She stood, calling for someone to come and clean the glass, and while they waited, a second ancient entered the room. Aurora didn't know who she was personally, but she knew who she was. Short blonde hair, honey-amber eyes, thick accent that was hidden between snaps of gum - Deja. For FUCK sake.

"Deja, darling," Iloquil greeted, holding her arm out to her sister. Her hand was already healed, of course. "You're just in time for us to learn why we had a Guild guest in our midst."

"Oh?" Deja asked, turning to look at Aurora. "How interesting."

"I wasn't hired by anyone through the guilds," Aurora said quickly. The last fucking thing she needed was a guild war again, fuck. "I was hired independently by our mutual friend. And anyways, if you knew what he did, he deserves it," she said, looking to the side, annoyed but unwilling to elaborate.

Deja held her hand up, tilting her head. "Well come on, darling, you can't tease us like that. What's he done to incur the wrath of a hunter? Aside from the usual, of course," Deja said, her melodic voice hinting at both curiosity and amusement.

"What hasn't he done," Iloquil muttered into her drink, rolling her eyes. It almost went unnoticed by Aurora, but not quite.

"He attempted to force himself on my client," Aurora said tersely. "He wanted to bite her and pull her into his thrall. To collect her," she spat.

"Did he," Deja breathed. There was something happening with her expression that was reminiscent of the same thing that went on with Iloquil's - it was a deep, seething sort of anger, but it mostly reflected in her eyes. Aurora had always been told that Fae had incredibly unique eyes, and Deja's were no different, but at the moment, they were positively burning, the amber seeming to have a lit-from-within glow that made her look so much more otherworldly than she already did.

Iloquil tapped her foot for a few seconds, as though she was trying to decide how to act. Then, her head snapped to look at her sister. "Deja. Get Kronos. Tell him to fetch me Bacchus," she commanded.

"It would be my greatest pleasure," Deja said, and there was a darkness in her voice that had not been there previously.

Iloquil glanced back to Aurora. "Stand, hunter," she commanded.

Aurora stood. She swallowed, hard. What was about to happen? Were they going to put their words against one another? Did they not believe her? They acted like they had, but she couldn't be sure. She wasn't considering this a success, yet.

Iloquil got in close on her, regarding her very much like she were sizing her up. "You know, he will be mad that you used him to get in here," she said.

Aurora was caught completely fucking off guard, naturally. She had anticipated Iloquil would say something about Bacchus, or her word, or Jillian's word, or something more pertaining to what was about to happen when Bacchus showed up, but no - she went for the throat. Of course. "He will," she agreed.

"He might even leave you," Iloquil observed.

"That's a possibility," Aurora acknowledged. "More like a likelihood," she added, frowning.

"She really didn't tell you how I got my fire, did she?" she asked, looking into Aurora's eyes. She was searching for something, but what was anyone's guess.

"No," Aurora said. "She really didn't."

"You'll see," she said cryptically, reaching out to touch her arm. "Don't worry, darling," she added with a smile. "We knew something had happened; we just didn't know what, or with whom. I consider you a guest, handling some unfinished business. So, have a seat, and relax." The door opened, and Justinian came in, brows furrowed from his run-in with Deja in the hall moments prior. He went to Iloquil, hands up in a "what is going on" sort of way, not even acknowledging Aurora's presence.

"Darling," Iloquil said, leaning in to kiss his confused face. "So glad you could make it. We have something you need to witness."