Skip to: Part Two

 Fire everywhere.

 Blue and bright and screaming through the air like a mass of souls, destroying, pure, deadly. It burns away the Nightworld, it burns away the fear and doubt. It burns away any sense I have of time or place; there is only the fire and only the hunger as it takes the darkness away. A wild power, one that has been honed and crafted for this one purpose. And just as I think that maybe…just maybe…as I feel hope leap in my heart for the first time in a thousand years, something shatters in my soul.

 It knocks me to the ground. I watch, I watch helpless and alone while my soulmate dies, curled on the ground, trying to stop the pain that is so horrendous, so terrible that it nearly kills me. People all around me, catching my arms, trying to stop my pain with witching words and gentle hands. But they can't, of course. They can't do anything as I search inside for the bond that shows me the other half of my soul, searching madly and frantically while his life bleeds away before I can find him, while the last grains of sand in the hourglass drop away into the void and I feel the link shriek into shards..

I hear the screams, I hear someone screaming out his name over and over and over. And then I realise it's me screaming with the fire in my voice and the broken pieces cutting in my heart.

 But there is only silence and that faint, startled smile that lingers on his face when all the life is gone.

~*~

The rain runs down my face as I stare out at the sea. It's beautiful here. Wild. Grey-green sea crashing onto jagged rocks, scream of the wind over the cliffs. The sky is just grey clouds blocking out an orange sun that hangs low in the sky like a fireball. Sometimes I wish it would fall down and swallow me up. Then I wouldn't have to think or feel.

 It's cold out, but I just pull my coat a little closer around me and stare out at the horizon.

 I don't know why I came here. This strange place, where no one knows me, no one cares. They don't even look at me, just another stranger on their land. They seem a little afraid even, crossing the street when I approach, and if they can't avoid me, taking care to be especially polite, smiling warily and murmuring greetings.

 I think maybe they see it in my face. A burning grief for someone who I knew for so little time, yet who touched me so deeply. I am bereft of tears these days, but bereft of him too, and searching my life, I can find only absences; of him, of care, of life. My apathy has consumed me, and I just don't know how to banish it.

 These days, I am more a ghost than anything living.

 I wonder what they would think if they saw that same girl stalking the deer in the wood, running faster than any human possibly could, leaping after foxes and rabbits. What would they do if they saw the stranger in their midst drinking the blood of a hare?

 Maybe I would hear words like monster. Freak. Fiend. Demon. They would be wrong. All I have to hold now is grief. These humans aren't important. They are the ghosts, ghosts of a world that was bright and beautiful and full of rainbows. And then the rain fell.

 There was only one of their kind who ever had any bearing on my life and he is gone now. Gone where the gulls fly and the stars glimmer, his name nothing more than a lone cry on the breeze that will never be heard. He is somewhere I can never be.

 And all I have are my memories. They are never enough.

~*~

 Curious, to be thinking of all this now, when I am so far away from everything. It is as though all that I have been through happened to someone else. Where did it all start?

 Circle Daybreak, I suppose. Or maybe further back than that, to the time when Maya Hearthwoman cast the spell that changed her into something beyond the experience of any human or witch. When Maya's son, Red Fern was born, a dynasty began. One that survived through fire, disaster and time. An elitist society of nightwalkers, blood drinkers that formed a coven beyond imagining spanning the Earth.

 But of course, you can't have infinite evil without infinite light. It's the balance of the world, correcting itself to even out the disruption created by Maya's spell. She began the race of vampires and something struck back at her. The Old Powers that had faded out burst into life again. The Soulmate Principle was reborn, and so was Circle Daybreak.

 And later, came the Wild Powers. Born to save us all. Lucky us.

 The first three they found; a half-human vampire, a prince ruling a Nightworld land no one knew even existed and the third, the legendary Witch Child. A freak, a spoiled brat and a hysteric. All they needed was an elephant and a couple of clowns and Daybreak could have charged admission.

 The search for the fourth began. They searched across the world and finally, the fourth appeared. But in a different guise to what everyone had been expecting.

 They have all sorts of lovely little phrases for it. Not playing with a full deck. A few sandwiches short of a picnic. Up the pole. In short, completely insane. Saving the world? When he couldn't tie his own shoelaces?

 Daybreak tried everything they could think of. Until some genius came up with the idea of getting a vampire to wipe his mind. Start from scratch and hope that this time, the Fourth Mark II came out okay. They wanted, basically, to program him like a computer.

 Guess who the vampire was?

 Yes, they called on me, a thousand year old vampire who was particularly well known for leaving humans mindless voids. By then, they must have been getting desperate. I was no Daybreaker then. I would sell to the highest bidder, a professional assassin.

 But you see, I got a little more than I bargained - quite literally - for.

~*~

At the time, I am in LA, disposing of a shapeshifter who had lured me right into a trap. I am furiously angry - with myself - for walking into such an obvious trap. We have been fighting for a while now and I begin to wonder if I have met my match. But eventually I manage to slide a silver knife between his ribs and watch his body convulsing on the floor, blood and saliva flicking out of his mouth as he thrashes like something possessed. He stops eventually, just twitching one last time with the hilt of that shiny little dagger sticking out of his chest, eyes fixed on me in a last accusing stare.

 I leave his apartment nice and tidy, everything in place, even picking up all the furniture and putting it back. It will be obvious to the LAPD that there has been a fight; there is blood all over the walls and a shattered glass in the trash. Another body put onto this serial killer's file. They must be getting seriously worried about me - no evidence, no fingerprints, just a call from a friend or a neighbour and they arrive to find another spotless home, except for the rather obviously placed corpse sprawled out on the floor.

 Sometimes I even make it easy for them and draw on the chalk outlines. Hell, I've always been artistic. Not today though.

  I clean up in his bathroom before I leave, wash off the blood and even give the mirror a quick qipe before I go. Call it a labour of love. There's enough evolution happening in his revolting bathroom to make cleaning it genocide.

 I saunter out of the building, another indistinguishable face and hail a taxi back to my place, a comfortable little house in the suburbs. See it, and you'd think maybe the house and its owner don't quite fit together, like mismatched pieces of a jigsaw. This plush, tasteful house that's so high on the market even a mansion on rockets couldn't get close. Doesn't look it of course.

 Then you have me. Tall, maybe even leggy on a good day - a dark day - with green eyes that belong more to a witch than a teenager. They swallow the light and throw it back at you, a hard eerie green that you see in cats and wolves. The kind that screams predator. Brown hair that seems a little…well, I guess untamed is the best word. And tapering fingers that might make you think of evil godmothers and stranglers.

 But home, they say is where the heart is. And in my case, also where the kidney, liver and pancreas are. I like souvenirs. And there are pieces of some very famous Nightpeople floating in my house. Canned celebrities, you might say.

 I walk in through the back - one of my neighbours is starting to get suspicious about the hours I keep. I reckon the old guy has an inkling of what I am, since I forgot to clean up one time - the poor guy nearly had a heart attack there and then. From then on, I'm especially careful about not letting him see me go in and out.

 I go to the kitchen to fix myself a snack, not even bothering to take off my jacket or gloves…and stop. There, lounging on a sofa, watching the hallway thoughtfully is some guy I have never seen before. He looks as surprised as I am. I guess he was expecting me to walk in through the front door.

 "Who the hell are you?" I demand, grabbing a wicked looking knife out of a draw. You get some mighty strange people dropping in sometimes.

 "Gas man," he says innocently. He even holds up a clipboard with a list of figures in impressive black print on it. He must assume that vampire equals stupid. Seen one too many Bram Stoker remakes.

 I snort. "Well, you're sure full of hot air. Do you have a name?" I don't bother to approach him. If he runs, he'll soon find out just how fast I am.

 "Bond," he drawls with a tiny, cold curve of his mouth. "James Bond."

 I turn the knife in the light, admiring the sheen on it and how the light bounces onto the walls. "How would you like your corpse? Shaken or stirred?"

  The guy doesn't move, doesn't try to run, just looks at me with eyes the colour of water in a green-glass bottle. He has got over his shock now, I realise and smiles at me charmingly. He introduces himself as Chris.

 I keep ahold of the knife, but lower it a little. I am standing in the kitchen doorway, ready to lynch my human visitor if he tries anything. "Well, Chris, want to explain what you're doing in here?"

 Chris just looks amused. "I'm from Circle Daybreak."

 "Then I'll save time and kill you now." I flip the knife once. It's comfortable in my grip. Knives have always been a favourite of mine. "Tomorrow may never die, honey, but you sure can."

 I take a step towards him, but this cute blond guy isn't fazed. In fact, he seems to find this whole meeting incredibly funny. He stands up, and offers me his hand. I stare at him. He really is crazy.

 Did I mention I like crazy guys?

 I cautiously put the knife down on a nearby table and take his hand. Nothing to fear. He's human, I'm not. Says it all really. Next thing I know, he kicks me like a martial arts expert and within about a minute I begin to wonder if I'm out-classed. Within five minutes, I know that I am. I have been slammed into the walls, the floor and the furniture more times than I can count. He blocks every move and seems to know what I am about to do before I do.

 I am flung onto a chair and he sits opposite me, looking at me coolly as I try to sit up, feeling broken bones healing. Shakily, I pull off my gloves to see how much damage he has managed to do to my hands. I cannot even see my usually smooth skin for the thick red-black blood everywhere.

 I cannot stop trembling suddenly. I have not felt so vulnerable for years. I realise that I am afraid. I thought I had got rid of all the fear, but now it is back, voices whispering in my ears [weak you're weak you know you're weak] and I know that this human could break me in two if he wanted to.

 I look up at him and see that his face is strangely compassionate, but as I meet his eyes, he wipes the look off his face and this icy hawkish look appears there.

 His voice is calm when he talks, low and sensual. "I told you I'm from Daybreak. You are going to help us."

 I gather what is left of my confidence. "So was that just your way of saying 'hello' then? Because I'd hate to see what happens when you start begging."

 Human teeth show, but somehow they're nastier than the sharpest fangs I've seen. "I don't beg."

 "Oh, you just fetch then?" Me and my big mouth. I can't resist making smart remarks and it's gotten me into trouble all my life.

 "If you want." That cold face watches me. He is perfectly still, not a muscle twitching. "I bite too, when compelled to do so."

 I glare. "I don't taste so good." My hands are almost healed now and I think about making a move. He sees it too and there's a sudden blur of motion and he leans forward and snaps my bones again.

 "True," he said thoughtfully. "Too bitter." He looks at me hard.  As if he's searching for something and not finding it. I don't like it at all. "I wonder why they wanted you," he adds rhetorically.

 "Probably my fabulous and sparkling personality," I say. "Or maybe it's just the fact I seem to be flypaper for freaks."

 "Join the circus," he says shortly. And smiles again, though I don't see much humour about it. Imagine a snake smiling. It's pretty difficult. But I guess that's what the contortion on his face is. "Not that you really have much choice."

 "And if I refuse?" I say delicately. Flexing my hands subtly, testing the strength. Healing. The pain is fading but it's affected me.

 He leans forward, chiselled features suddenly menacing. "Let's just say I can be very persuasive.."

 I stare at him. He sends ice through my bones. "Why do I get the feeling we aren't talking dinner and dancing?" Then I move, so fast I feel like I'm flying for a brief second, throwing a punch that could smash his nose out the back of his head. Something cracks. He's caught my arm in mid-air, easily breaking it.
 
 "Since when has Daybreak gone in for violence?" My voice is shaky as I feel.

 He smiles and it sends a chill down my back. This guy is dangerous. If he was a vampire, the world would need to watch out. "Daybreak doesn't. I do."

 "Why?" some inner demon prompts me to ask.

 "That's none of your business!" His voice is angry, but his eyes are distant and I see his long, warrior's body tense. Grief flits across his face so quickly that I cannot be sure that I saw it.

 I don't say anything, but just watch him. Whatever it what that gave him such a thirst for vengeance, it must have been bad.

~*~

 We are let into Daybreak HQ without any problems. Chris seems to be well known here. I don't even bother looking for escape routes. I already tried that in the car and he broke my leg for the trouble. And, I have a feeling, for fun.

 Lord Thierry is waiting for us. He nods at Chris. "You did well." I see his dark eyes flick over my face, noting the fading bruises. I think he knows more about Chris's past, for he says nothing and I know Daybreak are against unnecessary violence. Then again, it had been necessary. No way I would be helping Daybreak voluntarily.

 He smiles at me, looking just like any other gorgeous eighteen year old. It is hard to recognise that he is even older than I. "Welcome, Atalssa," he says gently. "Or do you go by another name now?" We met some time ago, and I see a flash of surprise on Chris's face as he realises this.

 I shrug, determined to be as difficult as possible. "Does it matter? I'm here for business, Theorn, not for fun and games."

 "I'll provide the fun," Chris says with an exceptionally nasty smile. He must have taken an exam in menacing postures. I've never seen anyone with so much pent-up malice, with the exception of the Teletubbies creator. "And you'll soon stop playing these pointless word games."

 I glare at him and stand my ground. He won't hurt me while Thierry's there. "I won't be forced to do anything."

Not true, his eyes say, hard as emeralds.

Thierry sighs and shaking his head, takes me into a side room. Chris disappears, probably gone to terrorise the WWF into quaking submission.

 The first thing I notice is the large window opening onto what looks like a padded cell, half of it in shadow. The next thing is the drooling vegetable sitting in the cell, howling.

 "What is that?" Unable to stop myself stepping back in horror, I back into Thierry, who catches my shoulders and hold me still, forcing me to stare at the…thing. I twist my head to look at the vampire.

 He has no horror on his expression, merely sadness. "That, my dear Atalssa, is the Fourth."

 I stare at him, feeling my eyes open wide. "The…Fourth?" Oh, Goddess, I think, they don't have a hope in hell. I turn my gaze back to it again.

 This time, the shock is not so bad. I force my terror down and look at it, no, him. The boy does not look any older than Thierry, but his expression is completely different. His lips are drawn back in a feral snarl, and his hands are like claws, that twist as he digs them into the floor, the walls, his own skin. He is covered with old scratches, fading bruises, and emaciated. His head is thrown back, in a primal scream that echoes through my head, long, drawn out and rattling. His body, lean and snake-like whips back and forth and he screams at the ceiling.

 As I watch him, his voice suddenly quiets and his body stops its unnerving rocking. The head snaps round, and fast as a cat pouncing, he hurls himself at the screen, hitting it with a sickening thud. His eyes, a peculiar shade of yellow, meet mine and then he begins to laugh, at first quietly, then louder, mad and uncontrolled.

 He stops again, in another of his instant mood changes. Then he just watches me, black hair falling into eyes that are hungry and bright, teeth bared. I cannot stop a shiver going down my body.

 Thierry is still holding my shoulders and now I hear his voice, quietly appalled, "I'd say he knows you, Atalssa. What on earth did you do to him?"

 "I've never seen him before." I would remember him, I know that for sure. "Look, why did you bring me here? There are a million vampires who can wipe minds. Why me?"

 Thierry turns me to face him. "It is not a case of 'why you', Atalssa. One of our witches saw you in a dream. You are important here."

 "So you send that maniac to bring me here," I snarl. "On the whim of some crazy witch?"

 Thierry just gives me a ghost of a smile, eyes dancing. "I would hardly call Aradia crazy."

 "Ah." Aradia, the blind Maiden. The most stunningly powerful of the witches, blind and beautiful.

 "Exactly. She also saw where he," Thierry tilts his head to the boy watching us in his predatory way. "was. Incidentally, he is a witch. Formerly of Circle Twilight, I believe. And an Old Soul. You can expect to see him around in a few centuries. So he has conventional power as well as the blue fire. Be very careful." Then he pauses. His eyes are like two pools, dark and enigmatic.

 His gaze focuses onto me. I can just make out myself reflected in his eyes, a tiny defiant figure coloured black. Thierry watches me as I watch him. "I can't make you do this, Atalssa. But I can tell you that if you do, Daybreak is prepared to protect you from the Nightworld. You can join us."

 I want to laugh, I really do. This morning, off slaying 'shifters, next a prospective Daybreaker. Then I start to consider it, to my surprise; the offer is not unattractive. I am not popular with the Nightworld, but joining Daybreak…I would have to give up my profitable job.

 I break off that chain of thought to find Lord Thierry watching me. "I'll think about it," I say finally. Then a thought strikes me. "Why is half of the cell in shadow?" I ask, gesturing towards it.

 "He cannot stand the full light. It's psychological, but we cannot end his fear of light."

 "He likes it at twilight, then." I say thoughtfully.

 He nods, then looks over at the boy, who is still watching me. "Well, Atalssa, you had better do what you were brought here for."

 He walks to the door. "Wait!" I say. "Where are you going?"

 "Last time we let him near me," Thierry says dryly, "they couldn't move me for a couple of days while my spine and ribs healed. Good luck."

 He leaves, slamming the door. I hear a key turn and I stare in mild disbelief. "Thanks for telling me."

 I turn back to the screen, the boy still stands there. His eyes are trained on me and he stares without blinking. He looks more like a cobra waiting to strike than anything and his eyes which are not yellow as I first thought, but a combination of green and gold, just enhance the effect.

 Okay, I think, so how do I get into that padded cell-thing? It is obvious they won't let me out until I try, at least. I waggle my fingers at the security cameras in the room.

If you get into trouble, I hear Thierry call telepathically, we'll get you out.

 I don't bother to answer, but walk up to the door, cool metal under my fingers as I examine it. This stuff is tough. Titanium or platinum, something like that. There is a key that some kindly person has left for me. Ready for a maniac to come flying at me, I take a deep breath then unlock the door.

You got a taste; you're playing with the dark stuff. Don't let it get under your skin.
I've seen your eyes in the bottom of my glass. You died in your sleep, your face incomplete.

Deathwish Part Two

Ready for a pouncing maniac to come flying at me, I take a deep breath then unlock the door….to my surprise, nothing happens. Anti-climatic, I know, but it's a sad fact that life can't all be guns and love and lightning moments. Sometimes life is about the ordinary things. But let's face it, the exciting things are far more fun.

 Slightly confused, I step inside and find him watching me. The mad boy with his serpentine eyes and wolf's mind. I don't want to look at him. I've met the eyes of the mad before. Looking at them is like falling forward, until you can't tell if it's them or you who's walking in the darkness.

 Well, I think, now is the moment. Stay or go. I can walk out, refuse to help…and be handed over to Chris? Oh yes, that is a good idea. Fun and games with Megalomaniac Monthly's Mr. November. That guy is a control freak if ever I saw one. I just hope if he lives with anyone, they have more than one TV - I'd hate to fight him over the remote.

 I stop my roaming thoughts to look at the boy in a corner of the room. Carefully, slowly, I reach to touch the wall near me. Made of something soft, of course. Can't have the precious Fourth losing whatever brains he has left to concrete. He follows my movement, and I scrutinise him from under my eyelashes. Never make direct eye contact with a predator. Some of them take it as a threat.

 He's not Nightworld handsome, but then even vampires find it hard to keep up appearances in somewhere like this. It's hardly a luxury hotel room. A witch, Thierry said, and an Old Soul. Not a wakened Old Soul, certainly. I cannot see half his face - it lies in shadow. But what little I can see is not reassuring. A deep scratch rakes down his cheek, blood encrusted around the wound. His eyes are a startling shade of green-gold, a thin ring of colour around his hugely dilated pupils. His mouth is firm, well shaped. His skin is covered in grime, but tanned.

 He is slender, even if he weren't half-starved though I expect that's not the fault of Circle Daybreak. Well-muscled though - he would have to be to break Thierry's bones. Bare feet, dressed in ripped black jeans and a T-shirt to match his hair, he looks like someone wandering out of the wilderness.

 He moves suddenly, a couple of paces forward, surprising me completely. He's fast.

 So, I think to myself, do I stay or do I go? This is madness…the rational part of me says. He's insane, he managed to floor Thierry, a vampire who is a lot stronger than me and let's face it, a lot smarter, too....what am I thinking of? But I listen to the reckless part of me. The one that says, hell, it can't be worse than the last thousand years. Let's have a little fun. After all, he's just a witch. Can't hurt me.

 I hear the click as I turn the key in the lock. I don't do half-measures.

 Atalssa! Thierry's voice is urgent. Don't lock the door! We can't get you out…that thing's made of titanium.

And that thing, a winter-soft voice says, referring to the boy with a hint of disgust, is made of madness. John Quinn. Arrogant as ever. An uneasy ally of mine once.

 Aren't we all? I query him. There's some would say you're madder than rabid dog, John. Me, I reckon you are a rabid dog.

 Nice to know you still have the same respect for me, he murmurs.

Don't confuse respect with disgust, I advise him. Now leave me alone, I order them. Mind wiping humans is one thing. Mind-wiping a madman - and a Wild Power at that - is another matter altogether. I don't need you imbeciles trying to tell me what to do.
 
 I ignore them and step towards to the boy who is still trembling, no, swaying, like a charmed snake, serpent eyes huge as he stares at me warily. He reminds me of  a fox trying to decide whether to fight or run.

 All I need to do is touch him and I can link with his mind. I walk a little closer, ready to dodge or run myself. Then he seems to relax, the fear of me gone. All I can hear in the silence is the fast uneven sound of my own breath. Preparing myself for trouble, I reach out and catch one of his blood-stained hands.

 What happens next takes me completely unawares, but not, I suspect those of you who know my story. Suddenly, I feel something exploding like a supernova into my head and I am in what passes for his mind. I can no longer support my own weight and I feel dimly, my legs collapse under me and I am kneeling on the floor, still holding his hand, still connected. Only…he isn't there. It's as though someone has put a huge block into his head. Yes, I think that is what has happened. He was ordinary but someone…did something to him.

 His mind is like a huge empty cavern, with a sensation of something more there. I reach out, and mentally push. And I scream as the block gives way and pain explodes into my head…

He is running, but he knows they will catch him. Bright moon up ahead, scent of blood on the air. Frost biting at him, sneakers hitting sidewalk in silent thuds. Muscles screaming, heart racing…shadow flits to him. He is scared, so afraid of what will happen. Then he turns the corner and they are there…

 I can feel nothing but black endless pain, that burns into my skin, into my bones and our minds are still irrevocably linked…he sees my thoughts as I see his, his pain is my pain and I experience everything that is all he has known for the last few months…

 Sting of metal on skin, pain on top of more agony, hearing Lucie scream as they tear at her. Flash of iron raised high in air, glow of hot metal, hiss as it connects with skin…trying to reach his sister, just their voices taunting him as they throw him back endlessly, leaving Lucie out of his reach. Sight of red liquid, dripping from a prone body, a face he knows too well turned to him, eyes glazing over. The tall man with gold eyes and the hair like blood laughs.

I ache more than I ever have, all I can feel is the metal on my back as they hurt me, torture me…

 I scream as I watch her die, Jon's sister, burning on a pyre…all I can do is scream…

~*~

 "Atalssa!" The voice is upset, and familiar. Someone is shaking me, but I am still seeing the girl dying, being hurt.

 I am screaming and screaming and suddenly the image stops, the horrible scene is gone. I cannot stop crying though, and someone is holding me, strong arms around me, my head on his shoulder. I have never felt so safe, so protected. He is still talking. "Please, don't cry...don't cry."

 The memory - no, his memory - vanishes and I begin to feel a little better. I stifle my sobs, crying, something I haven't done in a long time, get some self-control back and look up. I am still in the cell, but sitting down now, legs curled under me, leaning on the Fourth-

Oh...this is weird. This is far too strange.

 I push against his chest and he lets go of me, sits back against the wall. Cautious, afraid of what I am going to see, I look up into his face.

He looks back at me, like before, but now his eyes are clear and calm. I can see the intelligence there and more than that, sense it. His mouth is smiling and he is beautiful to me, despite the cuts and bruises, despite the mussed hair and filthy hands.

 "Hi," I say weakly. Not the most original of lines, I'll grant you, but under the circumstances it's pretty good. Better than sitting there having hysterics. Though I'm still far from tranquil; a truckful of Valium wouldn't sedate me right now and I think Daybreak might balk at an order like that.

 "Calm down, please," he says quietly. I like his voice. Not that there's many other options.

 I try and can't control my shuddery breaths and shaking body. He might as well ask a crocodile to condone vegetarianism. "You want fries with that?"

 He lifts his eyebrows a little and continues to watch me, still smiling slightly. I begin to wonder if there's something wrong with me. As far as I'm aware, when I got up, I had one head and a full body count.

 "Um…" I am finding it more than a little difficult to talk to him, especially with eyes like lasers trained on me. "What just…happened?" That's a question I really want an answer to. I've been around for a while and I have never had anything like that happen to me. Then again, I have never tried talking telepathically to a lunatic, though Chris came pretty close on the rankings.

 He looks thoughtful, an expression that suits him well. Then he leans forward and gently kisses me, brushing his lips against mine. And it's like having your heart jump-started.

 He breaks off the kiss, leaning back and watching me, eyes a little wider and face just showing the slightest hint of surprise. "We're soulmates." He smiles ruefully, as if he cannot believe it himself. What I cannot believe is how coherent he is. Making complete sense. Somehow, whatever just happened…it's changed him.

 "We're what?" I say, thinking that maybe I heard him wrong. Soulmates are a fairy story. For Daybreakers, for humans with a life that needs improving. Not for sceptics and killers and lunatics.

 "Soulmates." No, I was right. I feel like choking or saying something. But nothing sensible comes to my head. Plenty of meaningless phrases. But if you don't have anything worth saying, then don't waste time. Sometimes the silence is better.

  We just sit there quietly, staring at each other. I don't know what I look like. Pretty bad, I should think. I feel like someone's grabbed hold of my life, thrown it in a blender and hit the 'on' switch. Everything's still spinning. And I have a lot of questions I want to ask. But I don't.

 Instead, I lean forward, a bit tentatively and kiss him. It is complete bliss, and we stay locked together that way for a long time. I'm sure you don't need details. A very long time, I realise when I hear the hiss of melting metal. I turn around slowly, still holding onto him and see a blue flame slowly cutting through the door.

 A voice calls to us. "Don't worry Atalssa, don't try to move or antagonise him. We'll help you." Anxious faces at the screen, Thierry's included.

 "Oh, god." I mutter. "The cavalry's arrived."

~*~

 A lot of explanations later, Thierry finally understands that Jon is lucid again. Apparently, the soulmate link broke whatever it was that had stopped him from remembering. And that was why I was the one Aradia saw in her dreams. Me and my tall snake-eyed soulmate who hides a power I can't even imagine.

 The lightning is fabulously powerful. It can destroy mountains, turn the world back in to the hell inferno it once was. And yet, when I'm in his arms, he's so careful, so tender it's easy to forget. Love is a wonderful euphoric feeling that floats time away. But it's also a veil.

 So it all looks like a happy ending, Daybreak with all four Wild Powers, Atalssa with Jon. It's a million to one chance that anything would go wrong.

 Problem is, million to one chances occur nine times out of ten.

~*~

 The millennium came, the final battle drew near. And the Wild Powers unleashed the fire. They destroyed them, all the dragons, the Nightworld, while Circle Daybreak watched, half-fascinated, half-horrified. In the end, I could see nothing for the blue fire everywhere. Then it stopped. Like someone had turned off a light switch.

 And in that same moment, I felt the link between me and Jon snap. And it broke my heart, my soul in two. I knew he was gone, I knew they all were. I heard the human girl, Maggie, scream in heart-rending terror. The vampire Morgead's hiss of pain. And I fell. Even when I hit the ground, I was still falling, while my eyes staring blankly out at the charred landscape, the colour leached from them for a second.

 And they were gone. Disappeared. Dead.

 It changed us forever, the Wild Powers' soulmates. Morgead Blackthorn lost his vitality, the vividness that had sparked in his green eyes whenever Jez was around. He faded into the background like a ghost, until one day, he just faded right away. He was gone, no one knew where.

 Maggie Neely lost her carefree attitude, gained her determination. She became a vampire hunter, cold and indifferent to any plea for mercy or begging. Her brown eyes hardened like stone while her heart became ice. Who knew how easily she drowned under there, without Delos, lost and alone, slipping away a little more with each memory?  She rarely spoke to anyone except Morgead and I. I think perhaps she was upset when Morgead left, but I don't know.

 And me? I lost my will to live, that is all. I knew Jon for maybe a year, no more, and he was the first person I ever loved more than myself. Sad, but true; that's all. I left America, on the whim of a witch's dream and ended up here. In the middle of nowhere, just a sad stranger; that's all.

 It was for the good of the world, I am sure, but still, I wish the price was not so high. I wish he could have lived. I would have swapped a thousand strangers' lives for his without a second thought. And that is all.

~*~

 The girl finished what she had been writing, several sheets of paper covered in neat flowing handwriting. Her long brown hair fluttered in the wind, darkened with the rain until it was plastered to her hollow cheeks, curls straightened by the rivulets of water. Green eyes sparkled with tears. She rolled up the papers, and pulling a bottle from her pocket that had once held martini that took away the ache a little, a promise of fire and forgetting, shoved the papers inside and screwed on the lid.

 She seemed to be shivering continuously, slight frame shuddering in the wind that brought an arctic bite with it. She walked to the edge of the cliffs, looking down onto the crashing surf dispassionately. Then swiftly she hurled the bottle out into the sea. It flew further than any human could have sent it, arcing through the air, catching on a stray rain of sunshine that split through the clouds and caught the glass. It illuminated the girl, gave a shine to brown hair and accentuated soft peach skin.

 She stayed there for a while. Then she spoke into the darkness. "All right," she said gently, calm. "I'm ready."

 A tall boy, with hair like a raven's wing burning and eyes glowing hot green stepped out from the shelter of the trees. He had an uncaring look, and seemed completely out of place, like an elegant ghost. Clothes thin, travel worn but he didn't seem to notice the cold. He was beautiful and unnatural as the girl herself.

 Another girl stepped out. Her eyes were dead and blank, brown ice in her face. Her features were hard, her mouth stubborn, hair fox-coloured and short. She couldn't have been more than a score years old, but something had aged her. Her voice, when she spoke was clipped and filled with barely restrained anger. "Fine. Let's go. We've waited here long enough for you to carry out this pathetic whim of yours, Atalssa."

 Atalssa nodded then, for an instant glanced out at the waves. Far out was just a glimmer of something that was not water, a last hope.

 The boy smiled down at her sadly. His voice was weary. "Someone will find it, Ata. And you can bet the Nightworld will hear of it sooner or later. And maybe they'll figure it out."

 "Yes," she said, still staring at the sea, "but I…I don't know if this is the right thing to do now." A thought had struck, a memory of something Thierry had said to her when they had been watching Jon caged in insanity.

 The boy shrugged. "It's the only thing I can do. All I can think about is her." He hesitated then spoke softly as if each word hurt him. "She was part of me for so long…it nearly killed me when she left the first time, but at least I could hope she wasn't dead. And then, when she came back, I was so happy." His face was thoughtful. "I don't think I could ever feel like that again."

 No response from the girl. Eyes gazing out at the horizon, full with sorrow, but there was something else there too. A tiny spark of hope.

 The vampire boy smiled with sudden bitterness, showed a flicker of what he might have been once. "I swore to myself that I would never fall in love with humans. And the one girl who is my soulmate, well, she isn't just human, she's a Wild Power too. I was prepared to trade the Wild Power for power after the millennium."

 The hard-faced girl who stood apart from the other two watched with faint contempt. "Are you going to stand around all day? We all know you've got lamenting down to a fine art, Morgead. And you two may not feel the cold, but I do."

 Atalssa ignored her.

 Morgead however, glanced over at her. "Why did you change so much, Maggie? Why do you hunt vampires now? How can you?"

 It was an old question and one the vampire wasn't expecting an answer to. He was surprised, in so much as any emotion could break through the black mists that were grief and loss and a broken soul.

 Maggie looked straight at him and for an instant her face softened and anguish appeared on her features. "I can't hang around in Circle Daybreak, listening to their pity. That's all we are to them, charity cases. And they don't regret that Delos died." Her voice was half-choked with hatred. "Oh, they would prefer  he hadn't but…they don't know!"

 She stopped, turned away from the other two.

 Atalssa dragged her gaze from the sea. Her voice was firm, her face resolute. "I'm staying."

 Morgead stared, then nodded. "I don't understand…but it's your life."

 "What are you planning to do?" Maggie demanded, face composed into its icy expression. "Go back to those hypocrites at Daybreak?"

 Atalssa shook her head, fixing her melancholy gaze on the human. "They aren't hypocrites, and you know that Maggie, even if you won't admit it. No, I'm not going back to Daybreak."

 "Where then?"

 "I don't know yet, but I will. Maybe you will too." Atalssa smiled and turned away from them, sat on the cliff edge and watched the ocean, heedless of the pouring rain.

 "Goodbye." Morgead's voice held an air of finality.

 Atalssa did not look at them, but she sounded sorrowful. "Good luck…I hope you find them."

 The two left, black haired vampire and stocky girl, silently as wraiths. She never knew whether they were reunited with their soulmates, but she hoped so.

 And maybe in a few million years if you look up at the sky, on a clear night when the clouds are gone and the moon is low, you will see the four new stars that appear there at almost exactly the same time. And because even light has to know time in space, it's possible no one will ever know exactly when those stars appeared. But a few million years is far away from a stormy day and a lone girl.

  The sun broke through the clouds and shone onto her, gave her brown hair red highlights and green eyes a sparkle they had once had. Her skin changed from merely pale into peach, her bones highlighted. The girl looked up and smiled suddenly, smiled at the rainbow that had appeared in dazzling colours above her. Not minding the rain that sleeted down her face.

 She looked at her hand then. On the fourth finger of her right hand was a ring. Beautiful, ornate. Simple silver set with diamonds and emeralds; what they called an eternity ring that had been given to her by a snake-eyed boy who had fallen into the storm clouds. More than a gift; it was a binding, one that would outlast the whispers of alcohol and death and running.

 Eternity. It was a long time. But a time that held the promise of rain and rainbows and sun. And more importantly; a time that held the unknown. Hope.

 Atalssa Redfern waited in the rain, patient as ever, with the flame of faith inside her, waiting for her soulmate to be reborn.

And that is everything.

And I don't understand how at the touch of your hand, I would be the one to fall.
I miss the little things. I miss the simple things. Oh, I miss everything, everything about you.

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