Jas woke slowly that morning, the bright sunlight filtering in the room past gauzy curtains making her let out a groan. Pushing her hair off her face, she slowly sits up and stares around her dumbly, wondering when she'd made it back to her bedroom after the caffeine high from the night before. She remembered drinking her tenth cup of coffee around two-thirty in the morning, sending her older brother backward in time to help an ambitious Vizier murder King Tut, and then there was nothing.

She was supposed to do something today, it was important, it was…. What was it?

She furrows her brows, staring straight ahead of her at the lavender-colored wall as she racked her brain for any sort of hint. Flynn had told her it was important before she sent him off last night, he'd told her it was imperative that she didn't forget about it, but he'd also told her not to drink another cup of coffee and she's completely ignored that advice.

A constant beeping kept her distracted from her thoughts—what little ones she had that early in the morning—and she let out a little growl. Is it my alarm clock? No, she'd thrown that out the window last week. Was someone trying to Skype her? No, she didn't have a social life and her co-workers didn't know how to work a computer. So what the hell is it? And then her eyes widened in realization and she desperately kicked off the pile of blankets.

Trying her hardest not to trip as she sprinted for her office, she grabbed a pair of pants off the back of her couch as she passed and struggled into them before collapsing in the chair, grabbing the desk to keep from rolling away. The computer screen was flashing a dark red color, the beeping continuing until she muted it.

"Don't get your panties in a twist," she grumbles, typing in the passcode to access the message that had been left behind. Soon a video of her brother filled the screen, Flynn looking as exhausted as she did with his hair sticking up all over the place and his eyes half-lidded as he stares into the camera. He must have left this for her last night while she was making dinner or more coffee.

"Because I know you forgot everything I told you last night," he explains, leaning back in his chair," because you had that last cup of coffee like the idiot that you are, I thought I'd leave you behind this wake-up call."

"Asshole." Flynn lets out a long sigh, leveling a stern look at the camera and pointing at it like he often did to her when she was in trouble.

"Grow up, Jasmine Alexis, and stop calling me an asshole. Anyway, you're to be sent out for a while, field work, and I packed your bags. You're expected to stay there for a few years, so we won't be in contact. Love you, Jas, take care of yourself and remember not to cause too mach damage."

The screen went black and she was left staring at her reflection; thick curls going everywhere, dark circles under her eyes, and the shirt she had on was stained from the previous night's barbecued ribs. She looked more like her twin than ever and that bothered her more than she cared to admit. Dash was nothing more than a career criminal that preyed on old people for their social security checks and murdered whenever it was order without even a second's hesitation. He was currently tucked away in a Russian prison, so at least Jas didn't have to worry about him trashing her house while she was gone.

Resigned with her assignment, she picks up the manila envelope from her desk, Jasmine Took written on the front in her brother's elegant script, and walks back to her bedroom. She drops the envelope containing her contract on the stacked suitcases before walking into her large closet; it was basically a small room on its own, filled with her clothes, shoes, and childhood keepsakes—mostly consisting of old Polly Pockets and Scooby-Doo memorabilia.

Shucking off the dirty clothes, she quickly pulls on a dark green tank top, jean shorts, and a pair of sandals before sliding on several plain rings and a pair of silver earrings. She grabs her makeup bag—her very livelihood should anyone ask—the silver of her wrist cuff catching her eye. It was a wide band, the silver seared into her flesh and unable to be removed, Celtic symbols engraved into the sides and around the dime-sized emerald set into the front. It was the sign of her servitude to the darkness, a Ranger assigned to keep the mischief going and the scales tilted in evil's favor.

It was a job that she was born into, but she had never been its biggest fan. The darkness—Satan, Voldemort with horns and a pitchfork, take your pick—was growing steadily stronger after centuries of the Rangers doing his bidding, so she wouldn't be able to stop anytime soon. Normally her job is to guard the Portal closest to her house, but now she would have to send herself through the Portal.

With a sigh, she runs a brush through her hair and applies a light coat of makeup once she was back in her bedroom before grabbing the bags and heading out, going straight for the barn where her mare was housed. Tug was waiting for her impatiently, letting out a snort as Jas moves closer, shaking her head upon spotting the luggage.

"I know, Tug," Jas says, readying the Arabian Mare for the trip, tying her bags in place," Flynn has horrible timing, but we'll just have to get through it." Jas climbs onto the saddle, running the tip of her finger over a braid in her horse's mane, smiling at the lilac ribbon keeping it in place. Tug was a constant feature in her life, she'd been just a foal when Jas first saw her and there was an instant connection once Jas got past her fear. "Let's get this over with."

They left the barn at a comfortable trot and headed towards the copse of trees several yards from her modest cottage, easily finding the mirror-still pond in the direct center. It's a mossy green color and reflects the shadows of the trees above it, hidden from the sunlight due to the thick canopy of leaves, and never even rippling when the wind picked up. It was her master's pond, one of two Portals in Oklahoma and the best one in the southern states, so it was closely monitored.

Another Ranger would take up residence in the cottage until she could return from... Where the hell was she going anyway? Flynn hadn't said and she found herself growing nervous, humming softly. Would she have WiFi there? She shivered at the thought of living without the Internet, her hand covering the cell phone tucked into the side of one of her bags. Tug, impatient as usual, let's out an annoyed whinny, digging a hoof into the soft earth next to the Portal.

"I know, hush," Jas scolds, brows knitted together over brown eyes. "Okay, Tug, let's do this." She urges the mare forward and they slowly descend into the freezing water, the substance crawling over them the further out they go until they're fully submerged in the center. The water swirls around them like a cyclone even as all the air is drawn from their lungs. This part never ceased to scare Jas, one of her hands clutching at her throat in desperation as her eyes clenched shut.

It was only when her ears popped that she opened her eyes again, taking in a few deep breaths to steady her nerves as the water began to calm. By the time Tug was able to walk again the water was completely motionless, allowing the horse to break the surface. Waiting for her on the other side of the Portal is a man dressed in dark leathers with an impressive scowl on his face, marring the handsome features and making her instantly dislike him.

Just because they're villains doesn't mean they have to look the part.

"Welcome to Nottingham," the man greets in a deep baritone that made shivers race down her spine. "I am Sir Guy of Gisborne and Sheriff Vaisey sent me to collect you." Jas dismounts once she's on solid ground again, untying the heaviest of her bags and shoving it at the man, smirking when he grunts as it connects with his stomach.

"Make yourself useful, Gilbert."

"It's Guy."

"Don't care." The grin she shoots his way has him grinding his teeth, fingers gripping the bag's strap tighter. She was almost certain that his knuckles would be white beneath his gloves and considering making this an everyday thing. After all, the thing she was an expert at was annoying pretentious assholes; it was second only to her skill with telekinesis. "Come along, we don't want to keep the Sheriff waiting, Gilbert."

"Damn woman."