Chapter 1

Midsummer's Eve

Will took another soda from the coke cooler sitting in the far corner of the bar. A soft electric glow lit up a look of complete despair covering his face. The bar was named Barry's, a grubby place, the lighting fixtures being old, and worn out, flickered out every few minutes only to come on shortly after with the same dim glow. The bar was set aside in a deserted corner of Oxford. Mary Malone had come here to coverse with a close friend about her current situation, and had suggested that Will come to try to lighten his seemingly helpless depression. Will's daemon (separated similarly as the witch's daemons) was outside the bar socializing with a scrawny ally cat.

Mary was getting especially giddy, which was very unlike the scientist Will had been beginning to know well after his separation from Lyra. She was on the third of some potent drink unfamiliar to Will. He thought about a long, happier time ago when Lyra.... Lyra.... Will couldn't begin thinking of her before he drifted off into a tide of despair. He tried to compare the pain in his heart he felt by losing Lyra to the pain he felt at the loss of his daemon, Lyra was a part of him just as was his daemon, and the pain was equal perhaps even greater, but by losing Lyra he knew he wouldn't die, from natural causes, he added with a grimace as he pictured himself with a pistol to his head, he wouldn't be that drastic in his pain though. That, he knew. He dropped his head down onto the grimy bar bench where he was seated. He sat on a wooden stool with a leather cover that was held fastened by several brass studs.

"Don' worry boy, ye'll get er' back..."

Wills head snapped up so fast that he instantly regretted the pain it brought with it. The bartender standing in front of him was a large man, possibly around 50 years of age, his head was bald and when the lights flickered on it slightly shone. Will wondered how this man could possibly know about Lyra, and he started to fidget, but his worry was pointless simply because the bartender had read his depressed face.

"Heh heh, you don' need to look worried, boy, I own dis bar I seen plenty of peopl' like ye."

Will wondered how this simple man could have possibly ever seen something 'like him', someone who had left his lover simply not several miles, or blocks, away but worlds away, somewhere completely beyond his reach.

"By da way, boy, ya owe me a few pounds fer da drinks."

Will dug into his pocket and slipped several coins onto the bar table. The bartender scooped them up and walked around the bar table collecting the money from other regulars at the bar. All who looked to drown their problems, if not just momentarily, in alcohol. Will shuddered at the thought that he could be sitting in some kind of bar just as these men were, still mourning over the loss of Lyra.

He turned around to see if Mary and her friend were still talking, which they were so he began to turn his head around again to look back at the countless supply of drinks lining the wall in front of the bar table. Halfway turned around form Mary again, a man wearing a long trench coat, and crushing peanuts in between his fingers caught his attention. The man was looking directly at Mary and her friend, and seemed to be following their conversation to the letter.

Will knew he had been recorded missing for quite some time, and somehow word of the murder he had committed slowly spread, leaving him not only missing but wanted by the police. He hoped his mother did not read the papers. Will was seized again by feelings not so unlike his mourning for Lyra, but more for shame, he had left his mother, confused, in the care of an old piano teacher, named Mrs. Cooper, to protect her. But she couldn't possibly be faring well, Will knew she must miss him, and he knew he couldn't go to Mrs. Cooper's house for fear of being caught. He once tried to go during the middle of the night but a suspicious neighbor had called the police and Will had to run as fast as he could to escape the flashing lights of the police cars. Later he knew that it was a stupid idea and decided against trying it again.

Eyes focused not directly on the trench coat man but slightly to the left as if studying the beer glass stack. Will walked unnoticed to the side of Dr. Malone.

Mary's friend, a tall red haired woman, nodded to Will, "That's him?"

Will nodded, so slightly that anyone at least two feet away couldn't have even seen the movement. Will noticed that instead of some alcoholic drink in her hand she held a coke, and he was glad of it.

Mary how ever, nodded more uproariously, "Yup, that's—"

Will softly elbowed her side, and that seemed to have told Mary even in hey stupor that she was to stop talking.

"The man in the back-right corner," Will began, Mary started to turn her head to get a better view of the man.

"No! Don't look," Will hissed in a low tone.

Mary shook her head several times to try to get rid of the fuzzy feeling, "Shouldn't have drunk so much…"

Mary's friend looked at her helplessly, "I told you not to get a third one."

"It doesn't matter, that man in the corner, I think he's been watching you two since we came here, I don't know how much he heard…" Will whispered again with his back turned to the trench coat man.

Mary's friend cursed, "We better leave then." She addressed Mary, "If he's with the police you better not return to your flat, he must've heard your name, hopefully he doesn't know… well you, know…"

Mary, still shaking her head to try and clear the fog that surrounded her mind, sounded worried, "We don't have a place to stay, you know that, Liz."

Elizabeth, known as Liz to most people had already expected that and nodded, "Assuming that we get out of here, you can both stay at my place, a bit west of London, not far from here.

Will added in, "He's bound to follow us… how we could get anywhere, how could I have destroyed that damned knife…" But Will knew why he had to, as images of Specters danced around in his mind's eye. And as Lyra's face, tawny hair tucked back behind her ears, and a grin on her lips, took the place of the Specters he knew he would've been tempted to use the knife. He looked as if he was beginning to drift back under his sea of despair when the current situation reminded him of the urgency of their escape.

Liz looked confused at his talk about the knife, and obviously Mary didn't tell her about Will's adventures outside of his own world. She was going to begin to ask but she decided against it when she looked into Will's fierce blue eyes, as many people feared to do, and saw the sorrow deep within them.

Will cleared his mind of all but the present situation, "Think we could make a run for it?" A crazy idea was forming within his mind, part by part, but it was indeed forming. Like when you begin building a puzzle and at first it seems like nothing, but when it's finally formed it could be the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Oh, that won't be necessary." A cold voice whispered into Will's ear and he somehow knew that his metaphoric puzzle had just been cut in half.