Jenny Lewis was quite certain there witches were following them.

It sounded absurd, as witches rarely ventured as far south as the Kingdom, nor did they hold any interest in the dealings of normal humans except when it had to do with their prophecies. Even the dinosaurs weren't enough to trouble them. But she knew that they had to be, because there was no other way to explain the mysterious bird dæmon that always seemed to follow the team whenever they were out on an incursion.

She knew everyone's dæmon on the team, even the soldiers', and the only bird dæmons on the response team were her own Tyleihian, Stephen's Caranimia, and Lieutenant Kyle Thornhill's Vitta. And since there was always one more dæmon than there were people, she knew it had to be a witch, the only people able to separate more than a few yards from their dæmons.

Their little spy was always different, so she knew it was more than one. Some days it was a raven, others a sparrow, or a starling. One day it was even a swan, paddling calmly along the surface of the pond next to the anomaly. She wouldn't have even noticed if not for Ty, always flitting around her and noticing things with his keen eyes.

"Jen, he's back," he hissed at her ear. "Twelve bodies, thirteen dæmons."

"Where now?"

"Six o'clock, twenty feet up. Looks like a hawk or a falcon."

Walking over to the truck under the pretense of speaking to Connor, she glanced up to see the dæmon perched in a tree a few metres away, indeed some sort of bird of prey, though she couldn't tell what kind from here. What the hell were they being watched for? Surely the witches weren't taking an interest in the anomalies now, were they? Perhaps she would speak to Lester when they got back to the ARC.

"Miss Lewis?"

Oh, Connor had been speaking to her, hadn't he? "Sorry, what was that?" she asked, ignoring the way Ty snickered. "Drifted for a moment there."

The younger man smiled a little. "I asked how's Cutter been? Lester won't let me leave the ARC until I get the detector fixed, so I haven't been to see him lately."

"He's fine. Doing much better, though I'm not entirely sure that's a good thing. He's a bloody terror to the nurses," she remarked with a laugh, remembering how harried the nurses looked on their last visit to the hospital. Apparently, an irate Scotsman being constrained to bed rest was not conducive to a peaceful work environment, though the fact that he had a badger for a dæmon should've made that fairly obvious. Anagetasha had been even less pleased with their situation than Cutter, always skulking and growling.

Connor laughed as well, and Brincallón, his wee fennec fox dæmon, laughed as well, tucked down in the folds of his scarf to keep warm. "Of course he is."

When she looked up again, the bird dæmon was gone.

Outside of the ARC, the mysterious bird dæmons always following them was her biggest worry.

Inside of the ARC, however, she had an entirely different thing to worry about.

The Centre was bouncing back from its near-destruction at Helen's hands with incredible alacrity. Workmen crawled over the place at all hours, rebuilding what had been destroyed. Connor almost had the ADD back into one recognisable piece. Until Cutter was out of the hospital, Stephen had taken in to stepping as temporary team leader; he and the new captain Becker even had a kind of friendship. Sarah was busily cleaning the artefact for Cutter's study once he returned, and Lester had officially changed orders from capture by force to shoot on sight in regards to Helen Cutter. Jenny would be glad to do it herself, just as Ty would be more than happy to peck out her evil little monkey dæmon's eyes. She still shivered thinking about them.

But Jenny and Ty's problem didn't lie with any of those things, not even Helen Cutter. Her issue was rooted in the matter of Helen Cutter's creation.

The clone had been found in the wreckage of the ARC, barely alive, and had recovered faster than any of them would've thought. A part of her, ashamed as she was to admit it, had almost hoped it would die from its injuries. Because now that it was well, it was her problem. The thing about the clones, what made them so terrifying, was not that they were so eerily identical or that they so mindlessly followed even the most gruesome orders. It was the fact that they had no dæmons. The first time she'd seen one, it'd taken all her will not to throw up, because seeing someone without a dæmon was like seeing a person without a head, or with their ribs laid open and their heart removed. It was something that belonged in nightmares, right alongside ghouls and night-ghasts, not in the realm of reality.

Jenny would have been grateful if the clone – she couldn't think of it as a person – had died, just so she could pretend for a moment that it was actually a person whose dæmon had vanished when they died, just like everyone else. But it hadn't died, she couldn't pretend, and now she had to deal with it. For as much as she might be disgusted by it, she found that she couldn't just kill it, either. It hadn't really done anything to warrant a death sentence. The bomb, shooting Nick, that had all been Helen's doing, not the clone's, and without her influence over it, it was actually quite harmless. Just downright unnatural.

She paused outside the door, taking a deep breath to steady her own nerves. For once, Ty stopped his constant flittering about to nestle himself on her shoulder, settling himself in the dip of her collarbone. She stroked his silky feathers with one fingertip, feeling his flickering pulse. "We'll be alright, Jenny," he murmured, nipping at her affectionately.

The clone was sitting on a cot, puzzling over a Rubik's cube. Where that came from, she had no idea, but she'd put money on Connor if asked. As always, her stomach roiled when she saw no dæmon beside him, no badger curled on his lap. To see Nick Cutter without Anagetasha was akin to seeing the sky with no sun, the moon with no stars. She had to swallow hard, tasting bile in the back of her throat.

"Hello, Ms. Lewis," it said, setting down the puzzle and folding hands in its lap.

She hated that it even had to sound like him. It was bad enough the clone looked like Nick Cutter, but God, why did it have to sound like him too? Ignoring its greeting, she asked, "Has Dr. Palmer found anything amiss with your injuries?" she asked brusquely; Ty burrowed closer into her collarbone. Palmer was the only one that could stand to be around the clone, the Amazon woman with a miniature weasel for a dæmon and a spine of pure steel.

"No, Ms. Lewis. Dr. Palmer says that I am recovering at a rate which exceeds the norm."

"Good. The sooner you've got a clean bill of health, the sooner we can find something to do with you," she muttered quietly.

"Oh." It tilted its head slightly, the faintest expression of puzzlement coming to its features. The largest physical difference between the clone and Nick Cutter was that in the explosion, the clone had gained a new scar beneath its left eye that stretched from the bridge of its nose, beneath its eye, curving up to its temple. Palmer said that it was a miracle the clone had kept the eye. "I am not to be retired, then?"

Jenny paused, turning to look at it. "What do you mean, 'retired'?"

"Some of the others, the ones that all look alike but not like me – "

"The Cleaners," Ty murmured, quietly enough only she could hear.

" – sometimes, they were...defective. Mistress called them defective. Sometimes they were unable to walk or had a physical deformation, or they could not follow orders correctly. Mistress had them retired," the clone explained, then paused slightly, looking down at its lap. "Mistress would have had me retired as well. I was disobedient."

"She would've...killed you. Just like that," Jenny said in quiet horror. "Just because you didn't listen to her one time?"

The clone nodded. "Yes. Mistress said that we are simply flesh. We are made to follow orders, and if we cannot do that correctly, then we are of no use and need to be retired."

Jenny had to swallow back bile again, though now for an entirely different reason. When she was certain that she could speak again without the risk of throwing up the instant she opened her mouth, she murmured, "No, we're not going to kill you."

"Oh. If you say," the clone replied.

When she left the room, thoughts of the mysterious bird dæmon were the last thing on her mind.

She didn't think about it again for nearly another week, until the next anomaly.

Raptors were guaranteed bad news. No matter what size or form, they positively spelt out death and misery for the team. She had never seen them in action personally, but she'd read the reports and seen the CCTV footage. It was enough to make her reconsider lunch.

And right about now, she had a very large, very angry raptor considering her as lunch.

Jenny had tried to make a bolt for it only to fall hard on her front, a tearing pain burning in her leg where she'd caught it, gasping as tears filled her eyes. She flopped over onto her back, spitting out leaves. The raptor advanced with long-legged strides, the vibrant blue feathers on its head and neck standing erect, claws extended. She could see the raptor's long, sleek muzzle open wide, exposing an array of needle teeth as long as her little finger.

She heard someone scream her name, clutched Ty against her heart, and – felt no pain. A terrible screech rendered the air, and her head tilted back to see the bird dæmon come diving straight for the raptor. It was only a sparrow though, a BB pellet to an oncoming freight train. Except in an instant, it wasn't. The dæmon changed in midair, in a split second becoming a massive golden eagle, talons swept forward, straight into the raptor's face. The dinosaur let out a piercing shriek, reeling backwards as hooked talons sank directly into its face, the eagle ravaging its eyes with a wicked hooked beak. Blood spurted, though it was impossible to see anything clearly past the raptor's agonized thrashing and the dæmon's pummeling wings.

Jenny felt hard hands grip her arms, and then Stephen was hauling her to her feet, dragging her backwards.

Suddenly the raptor hooked a claw in one of the eagle dæmon's wings, slinging the bird roughly away from it, but before hitting the ground, the eagle changed again, becoming a lithe white tiger, bleeding from one shoulder where the raptor's claws struck. The raptor had only its right eye; the left was a raw, bloody socket, strips of ruined flesh dangling from it, blood streaming down its face. The tiger let out a snarling roar, swinging paws the size of frying pans, and chased the raptor back through the anomaly.

Before any of them could think to do anything other than stare in disbelief, the tiger dæmon whirled about and bolted, disappearing into the trees; an instant later, a bird appeared above the treeline, favouring one wing as it flew away.

"Okay...so maybe not a witch, then?" Ty asked softly from where he was still huddled in her hands, entire body trembling.

The idea of filing a report when she got back to the ARC was inconceivable, but as she walked in, Palmer came striding up to her, hair in wild disarray and her weasel dæmon bouncing with excitement from shoulder to shoulder. "Jenny. Jenny, you've got to come see this," she said, and without waiting for an answer, took hold of her arm and started pulling her along.

Jenny had to half-run in order to keep up with Palmer's stride, as the woman was nearly 6'6, most of that being leg, with Ty fluttering along beside her. "What is it, what's going on?" she asked.

Palmer didn't answer her, just pulled up sharply in front of the door to the clone's room. "Look," she said, voice hoarse with disbelief, pointing through the window.

Jenny looked. And abruptly felt so lightheaded that she had to grasp hold of the doorframe to keep from falling over.

The clone was on its cot, as it always was on her visits, except that now it had an expression of worried concern written across its face. It sat cross-legged on the cot, and cradled in its arms was a small cat dæmon. A small cat dæmon with a torn shoulder and a scarred cheek. It – no, he, not it, not anymore – he was gently stroking the dæmon's side, avoiding her injured shoulder.

"I-I dunno what happened or where it came from," Palmer said hoarsely. "I mean, I walked in and it was just...there."

Jenny's mind was still reeling with the implications. There had never been more than one spy, and it hadn't been a witch, either; there'd only been one, the clone's, able to change shape for some reason. The clone was able to separate from its – his, dammit, his – dæmon and had sent her to watch the team. His dæmon had saved Jenny's life. "I'll handle this, Palmer," she murmured dazedly, still gazing at the duo in the other room. "It's alright. I'll handle it."

Clone and dæmon both looked up sharply as she came in, and she saw how his arms tightened protectively around the small feline. There was a stiffness in one arm, the same shoulder his dæmon was injured in. "You've had a dæmon this entire time, haven't you?" Jenny asked softly, leaning back against the door.

"Yes," he replied. "Her name is Mumvuri." At the mention of her name, the dæmon changed from a small cat into a serpent and curled tightly around his wrist.

"Why didn't you ever say so?"

The clone looked down at Mumvuri, gently stroking along her greenish-black scales with one fingertip. "Because...I did not want her taken from me."

Jenny's spine prickled. "Taken?"

He nodded grimly. "The others, the ones who are all alike but not like me. Sometimes a...a dæmon will appear for one. They are never the same, always something different. But when it happens, the Mistress takes them away to a white room. There is a cage there, and a silver blade falls upon them. The dæmon dies, becomes Dust. The other one is left...empty. And alone."

The room briefly swam around Jenny, and little black spots swarmed the edges of her vision. Ty gave a strangled curse even as he dove into the breast pocket of Jenny's blouse and huddled close to her heart. One hand automatically went to cup the shaking little bundle of feathers, protective. "Helen would...she would Sever you?" she choked out.

Even the word had a chill crawling up her spine like icy little spiders creeping over her skin. It was illegal, the only crime that was punishable by death around the world. She'd heard rumours about people that'd been Severed, their dæmons cut away, leaving them hollow and empty. At first, they acted almost like they were lobotomized – they still moved and ate and did all the basic tasks, they just lacked any personality, any spark or fight. They were just sort of…there. But then they started falling apart. They stopped eating. Stopped moving. Eventually, they just laid down and died. Sometimes it took days, sometimes months or even years, but it always happened. The idea of being separated from her Tyleihian, her own dear, beloved soul, made her feel sick down to her core.

"Yes. I saw the others, how they and their dæmon screamed. And then they were simply...gone. I could not lose her like that. We are made not to feel pain, but I did not want to feel that suffering. When Mumvuri appeared to me...I was afraid, though I didn't know what fear was then. I did not want the Mistress to take her away from me. So I made Mumvuri leave, told her to get away and hide. It hurt to be apart. In here." He laid a hand on his chest, over his heart. "But if she stayed with me, we would both die. So she kept running away, and I let her."

So that was how he'd done it. It hurt, physically and emotionally, to pull on the bond between human and dæmon. They'd tried it when they were kids, as all children did, and the pain was so terrible that she and Ty both vowed to never do it again. But the clone had chosen to willfully keep pulling on the link, to allow his dæmon to pull further and further away, until he really was like the witches, able to send their dæmons many miles away from themselves.

Jenny had to take deep breaths through her nose just to be sure she wouldn't throw up as soon as she opened her mouth. Helen was Severing the clones. God, that woman really was a psychopath. Pushing away those thoughts for the time being, she said, "Nobody is going to take...Mumvuri from you. It's illegal to Sever someone."

"Illegal?" the clone echoed, the familiar puzzlement creeping back into his voice.

"Yes, it's..." Jenny faltered, unsure of how to explain something as complex as the legal system to a fairly simple-minded clone. "Laws are rules, and when a law is broken, people are punished for it. Doing something against the rules is called doing something illegal. Taking someone's dæmon like that, Severing them, is against a very, very important law, the first law. If someone's caught doing that, they'll be executed. Killed," she said at last.

If anyone could look relieved at the prospect of a death sentence, it was the clone at that moment. He let out a heavy breath of relief, slumping where he sat. "Good." Mumvuri flickered from a snake into a red fox, snuggling back down into his arms.

Now that that particularly disturbing question was answered, Jenny said, "It was Mumvuri who was following us, wasn't it? At the anomaly incursions? The bird I kept seeing?"

The clone looked down at his feet, and was he blushing? "Yes. I asked for her to watch you."

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because I...I was worried. About you. I thought that the Mistress might come back for us, and I...I did not want you to be hurt. You are kind to me. I like you."

Oh, hell. Heat flushed up into her face, and Ty muttered, "Now who's blushing?" She flicked him off her shoulder, despite his indignant squawk.

"Well, it's a good thing you did, or I might well have been killed today," she told the clone – they would have to find a name for him, she couldn't just keep calling him clone – and he looked down at his lap once more like a flustered schoolboy, flinching a little at the mention of her being killed. "I'll, erm...I'll have Palmer come in and look at Mumvuri's shoulder, make sure she's not badly hurt. I'm going to talk to Lester, see if we can't maybe find a job for you here."

He looked up again at that, a small smile coming to his face. Jenny had never actually seen him smile, and she found herself smiling back. Ty sniggered in her ear, and she was sorely tempted to flick him again. "Thank you, Ms. Lewis," he said.

"You can call me Jenny."