The doors opened and closed behind me as I walked in after Bree. My mind was like concrete. No thoughts would I allow in, nothing, nothing, nothing. I knew the guests were staring at me, I knew they must've been thinking how awful I looked, why my face was so blank.

It didn't take me long to reach the alter, and Isaac Cheldon. When I'd first met him, I'd been astounded that anyone who looked like him could run a toy company. He had oily black hair, and a straight, pointed nose. His thin lips always seemed twisted into a grimace. There was a purpley-white scar on his left cheek, but other than that his grey skin was flawless. He was tall, and muscular, I'd been able to tell even though he'd been wearing a suit and coat. A long time ago I would've been afraid, but now I had the built in security of my power, my magick. But I had renounced that, hadn't I? It was still there, and it wouldn't go away. I felt secure, physically.

But now I stood there, carefully blocking such well aimed thoughts out. Nothing. Nothing. Father Hodgekiss finally asked whether I took Isaac Cheldon to be my husband. It's never a question, though, it's a cue, and there's only ever one answer. "I do," my voice was mechanical, I noted, not betraying emotions which were now best left untouched.

In the moment just before he answered Father Hodgekiss, I looked into his eyes. They were a sharp, harsh blue, hooded darkly by thick lashes and straight black eyebrows. But the look he gave me plunged ice into my chest, slamming me out of my concrete barriers. The man looked at me bluntly, his eyes piercing right into me, seeing every thought I had. Something in the air had changed; there was a stillness, a hush—I knew none of the other people in the room would feel it, still, to me it was as clear as a gunshot.

"I do," he said, and took complete ownership of me.

"You may kiss the bride," said Father Hodgekiss in an eerily cheerful voice. Isaac Cheldon grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, his other hand easily cupping half my neck. His lips pushed into mine and I felt my throat tighten with the need to scream. He was pushy and pressed his lips harder against mine. He dropped my hand and wrapped it round my waist instead. Both of my own rested limply against his chest as I focused on the white scar on his left cheek. A tear leaked from my eye, but no one would see it, no one would understand. And as my husband gripped my elbow and walked me out, I thought this thought, and sealed away my losses, my magick, and my heart. They wouldn't be safe with him.

Hunter

I drove fast, and used about fifty glamours to get rid of policemen who were intent on stopping me. Now I was in London, and the road was no longer racing under me. "FUCK!" I yelled, slamming my fists against the steering wheel. Then I gripped it, and let out a stricken gasp as a tear slid down my cheek. Morgan, sweet love, oh goddess...Morgan! I blinked away other tears and blanked my mind, like I did before starting a circle. But instead of clearing it, I just turned it to the one other thought that consumed me; what I was going to do to Cheldon. I would bind him with my claigh, so tightly he would beg for death. But I wouldn't give. I'd strip him of his powers, his infamous powers, and leave him to rot away. I would spare him no words, he wasn't worth it.

I finally got to Heathrow Airport, and parked in the first place I spotted, which turned out to be as far away from the terminal as possible. I ran, ignoring the ignorant protests from travellers and businessmen, and reached the ticket desk in no time flat. "I need a ticket to New York," I said to the lady, who was still typing into her computer. My voice was desperate, but she rolled her eyes.

"One moment sir," she muttered dully. I gritted my teeth. She kept typing, and typing and typing.

"Bloody hell!" I cursed under my breath, but she heard and looked up with a raised eyebrow. She looked at me up and down. Her lips suddenly became bigger, her eyes almost dumber. Ugh! I did not need this now!

"I need a ticket to New York. Now," I said the words slowly and precisely. Her lips became pursed again.

"Well I'm sorry, sir, but I can't help you," she said, "we have a flight tomorrow night," I glared over the ditsy girl's shoulder. Niall, the rational part of my mind finally spoke up, you need a clear head if you're going to ever get to Morgan, stop acting like a dick! Calm down! I shut my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," I said, not quite able to look in her eye, "I'm in rather a hurry, you see, my father's in hospital and I have to see him," Not good enough, I looked pleadingly into her eyes. "There's nothing you," I leaned forward a little, "nothing you can do?"

"Um..." she swallowed and looked down again at the screen, "there's one which leaves in two hours, but economy class is full,"

"I'll take a first class ticket, then," I said, and whipped out my card before she changed her mind. I jabbed in my pin, so thankful that the council had invited me into the inner circle; after I'd left Widow's Vale, my only distraction was nabbing every lawbreaking witch in Britain. Then I flashed my passport at her, thankful I'd had that, too, since I was going to France. She raised her eyebrow again as her eyes flicked from me to my picture.

"That's a good picture," she said, biting her lip. I forced a smile and she finally gave me my ticket. But as she handed it to me, she gripped my hand.

"I'm sorry about your father," she said in one of the worst consoling tones I've ever heard. I nodded and walked away, thanking the goddess for my amazing women-charming abilities...they certainly came in handy. But then I remembered Justine Courceau and how she'd kissed me and Morgan had scryed and the whole thing crashed back down upon me. What if he kills her? But I knew he wouldn't. He'd do worse. And what if he raped her? My ticket was crushed by my fist. Weddings...wedding nights...I wouldn't make it in time to stop him! Morgan...Morgan would have to give herself to him. My chest heaved. I knew what power Isaac Cheldon was capable of, and the urgency to get to Widow's Vale became even stronger.

"Goddess, keep her safe," I whispered. It was all I could do...unless...

I found a quiet corner of the terminal and sat, so much calmer now that I knew I could do something. I took deep breaths, my seeker training kicking into gear.

'Killian,' I thought, my mind reaching thousands of miles away, 'Killian, you must listen! Morgan is in danger!' I hoped he was getting the desperation in my thought.

'Niall...' I felt a jolt of triumph, then took a deep breath and focussed; I had to keep him listening.

'Isaac Cheldon, the man Morgan's marrying, he's a witch,'

'He isn't,' Killian sent back with a mental eye roll.

'Hadrian,' I told him 'Hadrian, Killian, have you heard of him?'

'Stop talking shit, Niall, he's not Hadrian,'

'Have you seen the scar on his left cheek?'

'Look, he's not a witch, I would've sensed it, Morgan would've sensed it,'

'Hadrian is powerful enough to hide his magick,'

'Hadrian is a myth, my Da searched for him for years and didn't find a trace,' I was losing, no good would come out this, 'you just don't want Morgan to have anyone to care for her but yourself,'

'Killian,' I thought to him with more desperation than I cared to give the idiot, 'please, just don't leave the two of them alone tonight, don't let Morgan go off with him, just for tonight, then they can do whatever they wish,'

'It's their wedding night, it's their right,' I tried a different tack.

'Do you think Morgan wants to?' The thought was quiet, and Killian didn't reply for a few moments and worry began to flash in me again.

'No...No she doesn't...'

'Then it's in your interests, seeing as you're her brother, to keep her away from Cheldon,' the great space between me and him was quiet.

'Why are you so sure that he is Hadrian anyway?'

'Hadrian is a power hunter, Killian,' I thought grimly, 'and to him, Morgan will be his greatest prize,' it hurt to say it, but it would do the trick.

'Do you know him?'

'I've run into him,'

'And you are quite sure?'

'Killian, you know I love her, I would do nothing to cause her strife unless I thought it necessary,'

'It would seem strife has been rather constant since you left,'

'I did what I had to, to protect her,'

'How chivalrous,' he drawled his thought.

'Just don't let her out of your sight,'

'I won't...but only for tonight, unless you fucked up idea proves to be true,'

'Thank you,' and then he was gone. I opened my eyes and watched the wall spin as I slid onto the floor. I felt weak. The distance had been too far, I couldn't afford to take risks like that, it could kill me, and then Morgan.

I gripped one of the plastic seats and dragged myself back up.

I couldn't be bothered finding a coffee shop, and settled for the machine. Sadly, one long black doesn't go very far to curing tiredness when you're a witch, so I ended up downing four coffees, and then I sat back down, biting into a Kit Kat. I felt a little more awake by the last piece, and the endless worries all flooded back in. It was a six hour flight to New York, and then I'd have to drive to Widows Vale. And what would I do when I got there? I would be killed if I simply waltzed into Isaac Cheldon's house and tried killing him. I would need Morgan, and Killian, and Alyce, if she was still there. I wondered if Alyce had seen Cheldon? Would she have—

'Hunter!' I shot up straight, then realised it was Killian's voice.

'What?'

'Morgan's gone!'