Out of curiosity - does it bother anyone else when they refer to the Tomorrow people as a new species? I'm fairly sure by current scientific standards, they would be a sub-species - at best.

John came awake slowly, painfully. Handcuffs bound his wrists and he tried to teleport; it was his first reaction, instinctive and immediate. His body shook violently as a wave of pain caused his muscles to spasm, jaw and throat clenched too tight to scream as his skull felt like it was being ripped in two. He collapsed against his binds, feeling shaky and exhausted, his whole body trembling in reaction. His skull throbbed, pounding against his skull, but some inner warning kept him silent. Moving hurt, so he took in as much detail as he could while he sat there. His hands were pulled behind a chair and handcuffed together, but his legs were free.

He lifted his head up as he opened his eyes, inadvertently groaning as sore muscles were pulled and stretched. He was in an apartment; presumably the same apartment that he had seen through the wooden door Laura had made. He was facing a wall of cabinets, high-end ones of polished maple. The carpet was pristine white, the billiard's table off to his left was a dark wood trimmed in silver. To the right was the pristine door, and lying on the floor -

John froze, staring at Charlotte's prone form. She was facing away from him, her curly brown hair swept across her face, and lying unnaturally still. {Charlotte? Please, can you hear me? Charlotte?} His head throbbed again, and he eased off on the telepathy. "Charlotte?" He called soft as he could, voice hoarse. "Charlotte?"

"She won't answer you."

John stiffened at the voice, but he didn't try to turn around. It sounded like the woman was directly behind him. A soft hand brushed his shoulder as she walked past, confirming his guess. She turned to face him, eyes cold and calculating. In another situation John thought she could have been beautiful. As it was, her narrow features and cold expression made her look like a knife; sharp and full of hard angles. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, emphasizing her high cheekbones and almond eyes. She had washed off the dirt and changed her clothes, doing much to shed the persona of the lost but down-to-earth woman he had encountered in the subway. "She's not dead, not yet, if that's what you're wondering."

John couldn't stop himself from relaxing a little , even as he knew it would be bad to give her any indication of how much he wanted to protect the youngster. Like him, she had been tortured and experimented on by Ultra, and he had helped her to find her feet when she had first come to live with them.

The woman's eyes glimmered in triumph. "I didn't know if she would be useful - I only wanted you, actually - but I think this will work out even better than I hoped."

"I won't help you," John snarled automatically.

"Actually," Laura smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I think you will."

The air swirled crazily as Steven and Kate jumped into the room, Steven glancing around wildly before he caught sight of Russell. He was across the room in less than a heartbeat, grabbing the man's shoulders. "Where is she?"

"This way," Russell said quietly, leading Steven to the back of the half-built abandoned apartment. He opened the door to the most enclosed of the rooms, where Cara was lying on a bed of blankets. They had a fluid drip taped to her arm, and a cold compress across her forehead. Russell nodded back, and the man who had been keeping an eye on her got up to leave.

"Sorry Steven," he said softly, grabbing him lightly on the shoulder as he passed.

Steven swallowed as he dropped to his knees, grabbing her hand in his. He brushed the hair away from her eyes, whispering softly to her. "How?" He asked softly, pain etched into his voice.

"We have no idea," Russell said. "I have no idea. That woman took John -" He had to take a deep breath before continuing. "And Charlotte, and I have no clue how she did it. She walked through a door and was gone."

"She teleported?"

"No."

Steven glanced around at him, frowning. "How did you lose her then?"

"She - she," Russell threw up his hands in the air. "Damn it, I have no frickin' clue! One minute the subway door was polished wood, the next it was regular steel again! There was a whole room behind that door - high end stuff too - but I tried to jump there, and it didn't work! Why didn't it work?" He punched the wall, swearing as he broke skin.

Steven closed his eyes, pushing his palms against them. They didn't know how to fix Cara, they didn't even know what happened, and they had no way of tracking down John and Charlotte. "There can't be that many places like the one you saw, right?"

Russell snorted. "There might be a few, but what millionaire is going to let me into their mansion to take a look around?"

"Don't ask. Find them."

Russell sighed. "I'll try."

"I can save her yet." Laura walked over to the young girl's still form, using her foot to push her onto her back. Charlotte's head lolled sideways, her eyes wide and staring. It look like she was breathing. One hand flopped off to the side as Laura flipped her over, her forearm marked with a black handprint. Veins running up her arm and across her hand had turned black, giving the lacy appearance of an intricate tattoo.

John shook with suppressed emotion as he stared at the young girl. "What did you do to her?"

"Her body is in a form of stasis; it is why she is not dead yet." Laura was dispassionate, clinical. John didn't doubt for a moment that she would let the girl die. "It's only a matter of time, however. Once the drug reaches her heart there will be nothing I can do."

John stared at Charlotte, looking for any movement, any indication of life. "I need to know she's alive."

"Very well." Laura leaned down to her, placing her hands over the black handprints on her skin. Her eyes rolled back in her skull as the black veins started to fade. The black streaks recoiled onto themselves, snaking up Laura's arms. Laura let go of Charlotte's wrists a moment later, leaving only a vague black mark where the dark handprint had been outlined before.

Charlotte shuddered, her body spasming violently. John yanked at the handcuffs, shooting pain up his arm. The girl started coughing, deep racking coughs that shook her whole body, and suddenly she was moving. She struggled away from Laura, fighting to control the coughing, glancing at everything around her. Spotting John, she lurched towards him, managing to take in a shuttering breath.

Charlotte froze next to John's chair as Laura turned her head towards them. Her eyes were completely white as she stared at them. Slowly her brown eyes reemerged, rotating down into their normal position. "Enough proof?"

{Charlotte?}

{I can hear you!} Charlotte's voice was scared but triumphant. It was faint, but he could hear it.

{I can't teleport - I'm too disoriented. Whatever she did to me has stopped most of my abilities. Can you get us out of here?}

Charlotte's hand tightened around John's leg, her mouth thinning in concentration. John jerked as her fingernails dug into his leg, watching in horror as her head snapped back and she collapsed to the floor. Her eyes rolled up in her head, mouth wide open and straining, feet shoving at the carpet as she lifted herself off. Her mental screech shot through the room, and Laura clasped her hands to her head.

"Make her stop!" She screamed at him. "Or I will!"

"Charlotte!" John bent towards her, as far as the handcuffs would allow. "Charlotte, come back! It's all right!" His eyes were watering from the pain, he could almost feel nails digging into his head. "Cut me loose, I can't get to her!"

Laura flicked her hand at him and he crashed to the ground. The handcuffs were still on, but the chair was gone. He lay dazed, the ringing in his ears fighting with his disorientation.

"Shut her up!" The woman's shout rang through the room, resonating in a way that shouldn't have been possible, and John lurched over to Charlotte. He could still feel her fingers biting into his leg; the other hand was clenched so tightly that blood was welling in her palm.

"Charlotte!" He called, kneeling next to her. {Charlotte!} Pain and mental anguish battered at him, slamming into his head over and over again. {Charlotte, come back to me! Listen to me!} Slowly, the screaming faded from the room, leaving only a pulsing headache in its wake.

Charlotte gasped and curled into John, tears running down her face. "I can't teleport," she whispered through broken sobs. "I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't…"

{It's okay,} he replied over her litany. {It will be okay.}

"How?" She wailed, burying her face in his chest. {It's like that place - it's like being at the Citadel again!}

"Listen to me," he leaned away from her, ducking his head to look in her eyes. {I will NEVER leave you, understand? We will get out of this. Cara and Russell and Steven - all our friends - will be looking for us. I promise, I will get you out of here.}

{You promise?} She hiccupped slightly, hope just starting to fill her eyes.

{I promise.} John felt a cold certainty settle on him as Charlotte curled into him once again. Laura would kill them as soon as she had what she wanted. He had to get them out before that happened.

John rested his chin on Charlotte's head, feeling the silent sobs still racking her body. {Cara? Steven?} He called telepathically, wondering if they could even hear him. Wondering if they were completely alone.

Steven jogged up Ultra's steps with a mixed feeling of dread and anger. Did his uncle know what was going to happen? Was Cara going to die like those guards did? He slowed his pace as he reached the operations center, since he didn't want to attract everyone's attention. He got enough for just being Jed's nephew.

"Do you know where Dr. Price is?" He asked one of the agents, but only got a glare in response.

Steven sighed, turning away.

"Jameson!" His training agent snapped at him from the doorway. Come with me."

Jameson followed the agent down the hallway, jogging to catch up. "Any updates? Do we know how the guards died yet?"

He shrugged. "If the scientists are making any progress, they're keeping it to themselves. In there."

Steven entered one of the research rooms, unsure of what to expect. Jedikiah was leaning over a technician, pointing to something on the man's computer screen. They were discussing something softly enough that Steven couldn't hear what they were saying.

His uncle straightened, catching sight of Steven at the doorway. He murmured something to the tech, then wove his way through the lab's scientific equipment. "This way," he said softly, leading Steven into a locked office.

"Did you know?" He burst out, unable to contain his anger any longer. "Did you know they were in danger?"

Jedikiah glanced back at him, jaw tightening. "Is…?"

"She's fine," Steven said shortly. "Cara was injured."

"I'm sorry, Steven," Jedikiah said softly. "And … John?"

Steven hesitated. "Why did you think he was involved?"

"I didn't, not really." His uncle moved around the desk, sliding into his seat. "A vial of John's blood was missing, and I assumed that he might be a target."

"Why didn't you just tell me that?"

Jedikiah raised an eyebrow, and Steven sighed. "I know we're not trying to help them. Cara's unconscious - that's all they would tell me."

Jedikiah leaned forward, steepling his fingers together. "She was attacked by the same person that attacked our guards?"

"Well it fits, doesn't it?" Steven shrugged. "Lone woman, late twenties, brown hair, average height, thin. Olive skin, possibly of Spanish decent."

"Detailed description."

"They want her caught just as much as we do."

Jedikiah nodded. "Is that all?"

"There was one thing -" Steven hesitated, unsure if he should tell his uncle.

"Yes?"

"Her abilities - are not quite like ours."

"What do you mean?"

Steven shrugged. "I have no idea. They just warned me to be careful. Said that she can do things they don't know how to explain."

"Interesting," Jedikiah mused. "Did they happen to elaborate?"

Steven shook his head.

"Too bad." He turned to the computer on the desk and started typing.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" Jedikiah glanced up, a suffering tolerance in his gaze.

"Is there any way we could help Cara?" The words rushed out of his mouth; he regretted it as soon as he spoke. He should have been calmer, more controlled. As if that was possible, with Cara in danger.

Jed leaned back in his chair, frowning. "I thought you said she was just injured?"

"The woman - did something to her. She won't wake up," Steven finished lamely, shifting on his feet. He shouldn't be bringing this to Jedikiah. He shouldn't even be mentioning it.

"And how do the others feel about this?" Jed smirked as Steven glanced away. "They don't know, do they?"

"They can't help her!" Steven said desperately, leaning towards his uncle in emphasis. "What ever she got drugged with, they don't have the capability to deal with it. We do."

"So you want Ultra to help a dangerous fugitive, who is currently in league with a wanted ex-agent, all because you like her?"

"Yes." Steven winced. "She's a civilian now. Harmless."

Jed's smile was as cold and brittle as ice. "Oh, I think we both know that isn't the case."

"But Ultra doesn't." Steven held his breath, wondering if he had pushed his luck too far.

"Do you think she was drugged with the same compound that killed the guards?"

"Maybe. I think so," Steven hedged. "It's possible, at least."

Jed rolled his eyes. "That's not at all reassuring."

"So will you help her?"

"I would need a vial of her blood. Then we can talk."

"I can do that."

Jed's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?"

"I can try at least!" Steven snapped.

"If you do this, someone could analyze her blood. Do you know what they would find?"

Steven swallowed before answering. "They would know I didn't -"

"Exactly."

"It's a risk I have to take."

"You seem to be in fairly close contact with them."

Steven felt his heart start hammering, and he gathered his answer carefully. "Not really. Cara would listen anytime; the others - I think they feel like they owe me."

"For Cara," Jedikiah mused.

"Yeah."

"I'm reassigning you to the operations taskforce."

"But -"

"People will start wondering where I'm sending my nephew if you keep vanishing. You will work this shift with the taskforce; if you can get her blood, bring it to me tomorrow. Cool it in the fridge for at least a half hour, and make sure it stays concealed."

"Yes sir," Steven said reluctantly, recognizing his uncle's dismissal. "Thank you."

"What did you do to her?" John asked softly, trying not to wake Charlotte. The billiards table leg was uncomfortable against his back, but it gave him something to lean against. Charlotte had cried herself to sleep and was currently curled up, resting her head on his lap.

The woman was sitting across the room, looking tired and pensive. The chair she was in was an old, wooden high-backed chair that John suspected was the one that had vanished out from under him. Everything about the place was fancy, detailed, and top of the line. And Laura just didn't fit.

It wasn't her clothes - not quite. Her jeans were stylish, they could have been that 'fashionably worn' style, but they looked a little too used. Her long-sleeve shirt was obviously high quality, the sleeves carelessly rolled up to her elbows. A silver pendant hung from a chain around her neck, and a silver charm bracelet dangled from her left wrist. He couldn't quite place what felt so wrong about her, except that it might have been the house itself. The room they were in was pristine; John had the feeling that it was meant to be left untouched, unused. That they - Laura, him, Charlotte - intruded by their mere presence.

Laura studied him for a long time, swirling her wine slowly. John wondered if she would answer him, but didn't rush the silence. As much as he hated to admit it, stalling for time was just about his only play at this point.

"What did you do to her?" John asked again, more forceful.

Laura rolled her eyes. "For now, it is nothing that will harm her."

"What do you mean, 'for now?'" Try as he might, John couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

"If left in her system, the poison will likely kill her." She simply stated.

John stared at the woman, revulsion and anger fighting with logic. If he didn't keep his head, he wouldn't get answers, and he needed answers. There would always be people like her, people who put their own needs and desires beyond everyone else's; those who did not care how they hurt another. The logic did little to calm the fury burning its way through his gut.

"So you drugged her." He kept his tone low enough that he wouldn't wake Charlotte. Pushing the anger to the back of his mind. Logic, cold and simple logic was the only thing that could help now.

"Yes." She shrugged. "That is what I did. The how is a little more complicated."

Again, that insulting, condescending, infuriating tone that proclaimed she didn't care, didn't wonder about the consequences. That she could do whatever the hell she wanted, regardless. That he couldn't do a thing to stop her. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Trying to look at the situation logically. He wasn't only angry at her. He was angry at himself, at his inaction, at the trace of fear making him cautious. Making him take a step back, in an attempt to gather as much information as possible before he made a move against her.

Every instinct in his gut screamed that he needed to kill her, now, before he couldn't. Before she killed him. Before she killed Charlotte. It was an alien feeling; some primal instinct deep in his soul that brought the fear and caution and anger all together, something that said that she was dangerous. He was used to danger. He accepted the fact that he might die in his fight against Ultra. This was different.

He pushed the feeling away, anger building again. Why was he feeling this way? It wasn't as if he hadn't gone up against killers before. He recognized it in her - the indifference, the lack of care - but the fact that the feeling was there in the first place was enough to make him hesitate. He needed more information. He needed to know why.

"Why what, John?" A ghost of a smile crossed Laura's lips, and bile rose in John's throat. He hadn't realized he had spoken aloud.

"Why us?" He needed to know.

She stared at him pensively, the smile gone, the wineglass still in her hand. Unconsciously, he thought, she rubbed the silver charms hanging from her wrist, her eyes drifting away from his. "I've run into your kind before." She spoke soft enough that John had to strain to hear her. She stared into the distance, eyes unfocused, thinking about some other time and place. "It was when I still was learning my Art, when my Master had me under his complete control."

She paused, but it was the kind of pause used to gather her thoughts. "I was just coming into my powers - I have had the suggestions of power since I was born, that is why he chose me - but that year I came into my true abilities. With the arrival of my power came new restrictions; I could not spend hours on my own as I once had; I could no longer leave the house unaccompanied; things like this made me angry at him, wishing for a way to strike back."

"Why didn't you just leave?" He was trying to understand her. Trying to find something that would give him an edge.

"Leave?" She smiled, a sad smile that laughed at the very notion of escape. "He would have found me within the week. I was too unskilled in the Arts, and he was far too powerful.

"But there were times that I could bribe the servants and sneak out at night. Never for long enough for him to notice - or so I thought - but those moments of freedom were enough to keep me content, for a while.

"I was seventeen when I met Sara. I was heading down to the clubs one night, after I snuck out, when several men started harassing me. It was late at night, they were drunk, and I shoved them away from me. I hit one of them hard enough to send him over the railing and into the river - I heard him swearing when he surfaced, but I wouldn't have cared if he had drowned. The other men had no idea what had happened - they were all laughing like idiots because their friend had fallen into the river. They had no idea I had power. They wandered over to stare down at him, jeering, and it was easy to send them over the rail as well.

"Sara had seen me - she approached rather tentatively - 'You're like me,' she said, quite breathless. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' I remember replying, wary of any trap my Master might have set. He was a jealous man, and if he knew I was applying the Arts at night, practicing when he could not see, I'm not sure I would have survived his temper. Oh, he would have regretted my death in the morning, but only because he had broken a favored possession." Her voice was only slightly bitter as she stopped to take a sip of wine.

"'You're one of the Tomorrow People.' I had no idea what she was talking about, of course, but I went along with it. In the beginning I had assumed she had Power, and had studied in the Arts. Or perhaps she had never had a proper teacher, as she kept referring to these 'Tomorrow People.' I later learned that she was indeed something different, something new. She also came to understand that I could do things that she could only dream of. But that night I only learned she was telepathic, and with effort she could contact me. That was how our relationship began."

Laura stared into space, lost in thought.

"What happened next?" John prompted. He didn't know what she meant by the Arts or Power - she kept referring to the terms as if they meant something special - but he hoped she would explain in time.

"I was desperate for a friend, and reckless. I wanted to try my hand at all the things my Master had been teaching me, and in Sara I found the perfect accomplice. She supported my every action, and was always excited when I would try out a new trick or push my skills even further.

"One of my favorite tricks was influencing the world around us; making us seem older than we really were. She was only fifteen at the time, a runaway who had been living on the streets. I got us into the best clubs, the finest restaurants, and ended up getting her a semi-permanent room a very nice hotel. Every night we would meet at a different location, pick out what we wanted to do that night, and we would go clubbing and compare aspects of our powers. Her natural ability at both telekinesis and telepathy was far superior to my measly attempts, and, with a fair amount of patience that I didn't know she possessed, she taught me how to better direct my Power. After experimentation, we found we could link together, seeing through each other's eyes, and experiencing events through the other's senses. Over time, I found that when we linked, I could control her utterly, even while remaining in possession of my own body. She said it was an unnerving experience, but trilling as well. When we did link together, our powers, especially telepathy, were stronger than ever. We could influence practically anyone we wanted to.

"It was a fun, crazy time that wouldn't last. Ultra came for her, and she barely escaped. After that, we slowed down our wild exploits. My Master had been getting suspicious as well, for I had been sneaking out, night after night, for nearly a year at that point. He was getting stricter, and I started to fear for my life if he ever found out. I was leaping at shadows, and very reluctant to leave the house when Sara came up with a solution. She would enter as a servant in my Master's household, and I could request her to be my personal maid. Since we had already discovered that I could not sense her abilities, even when she teleported, he would never know. She could spy on him for me, and she would never have to worry about food, housing, or Ultra again."

"Did Ultra track her down?" John asked, hearing a strange note in her voice when she mentioned the group.

Laura laughed softly, an angry glimmer in her eyes. "Aye, they did. Nearly two years after they had failed in catching her, they broke in my Master's door. It was a sight to behold." She smiled at John's frown. "I had been training in my full Power for nearly eight years by that point; my Master had been a Practitioner for nearly a century, and his power has only grown in the time I have known him.

"The agents were completely unprepared. They came through that door, expecting some telekinesis, maybe a little physical violence; they were not expecting us. I sealed the doors behind and before them while my Master turned their weapons on themselves. Several were killed instantly, of the others, only a few were not gravely wounded.

"He saw it as a training exercise, and indeed it was. He could have taken the entire team apart without me there, but he said I needed the experience. He told me what he wanted done with the survivors, so I linked with Sara. I would need all the power I possessed to utterly destroy the minds of the five men."

Charlotte moved slightly, and John stifled an instinctive jerk. He had almost forgotten she was there, he was so caught up in the story. Was that what she would do to him, once she was done with him?

John double checked that the girl still slept before looking back up at Laura. "She won't wake, John." The woman shook her head at his glare. "It is nothing to harm her, just a slight persuasion to stay asleep. I do not fancy taking the brunt of that scream again."

"She was experimented on by Ultra as a child." He didn't know why he spoke; maybe it was in the hope that she would see herself, and take pity on the child.

"Such a waste," the woman frowned. "Taken young and nurtured properly, a child can grow to exactly what is need. But isn't that what happened with you?"

It was John's turn to frown. "I left."

"But not until after they made you into the weapon you are."

"You said you destroyed the minds of the men. What did you mean?"

She laughed but let him change the subject. "The ones who were going to die anyway, I destroyed completely. I took their memories, their personality, their sense of self - everything that made them who and what they were - and burned it out. They didn't know how to walk or talk by the time I was through." John stared at her, fighting to control the bile rising in his throat. She smiled, and he had a sick realization that she was enjoying this. "For the others, I only targeted their surface memories, leaving their faculties, even their knowledge of weapons and fighting, intact. They simply could not remember anything up to and including driving back to Ultra. Some fragments of memory might have still been there, a name, a face, other powerful and simple facts. But nothing complete. They would never again remember what or who they had been."

With a pang, John realized what she must have been talking about. It had been five, going on six years ago, right when he decided to undergo the risky process that would make him Ultra's 'ultimate' agent. He had been excluded from the team because of the experimentation, and only managed to get the barest facts afterwards. It was all everyone would talk about for weeks - the team of seven had driven back to Ultra, the bodies of the two dead agents and three critically injured lying next to each other in the vans. Of the two men able to walk, one had collapsed in the main reception area, but the other had made it to Jedikiah. According to rumor, all he had said was 'Come again, and the world will know,' before he had collapsed into Jedikiah's arms. The two surviving agents had been transferred to another field office, and that was the last time anyone had seen them. Theories about the culprit had ranged from a competing world government to a private organization. John wondered if Jedikiah had ever figured out who had destroyed his team.

"You haven't answered my question yet," John said softly. He was still thinking about that team of agents; an experienced team, taken out by only two people, if he was to believe Laura's story. He had to figure out a weakness, find a way he could beat her.

"I guess not," she mused. "I am a Practitioner of the Arts, and as such my studies have been in psychokinesis. It is related to telekinesis in a way, but it is not limited to moving objects around a room. With it, I am able to warp the fabric of reality."

"Like vanishing the chair."

"A crude way to put it, but yes. Like vanishing a chair."

John leaned his head against the billiards table, trying to wrap his head around the concept. "So why do you need us?"

Laura sighed theatrically. "Just because psychokinesis is more flexible, does not mean that it is more powerful. In certain areas, I do require assistance if I am to meet my goals." She smiled at him, a wolf-like, feral grin that hinted of anger and hate. "But do that think that I cannot control you, John. Like I said, psychokinesis is very flexible."

"Is that how you drugged us - dropped Cara to the ground - with a simple touch?" He wasn't bothering to keep his voice down. He wanted Charlotte to wake up. He needed Charlotte to wake up. He needed Laura to be proved wrong.

"Cara," Laura rolled the name over her tongue, like she was tasting the word as she said it. "That is the girl who was with you?" She laughed at John's anger, carried in his face even though he tried to hide it. "It is no matter.

"In an answer to your question, yes. I found I was able to manipulate certain compounds already in the human body so they would have the desired effect. It puts the body in a frozen state, slowing and regulating it to preserve it. After trial and error, however, I discovered that once my new compound stops the heart, the body cools and it can no longer be revived."

"You killed people to discover this." John struggled to keep his tone flat and even. She was reading him too easily, seeing through the mask he had on his face. She was getting to him, and he had to calm down. He had to keep her talking, and to do that, he had to keep his head.

"Yes, several dozen, actually. It was part of my studies."

"Sara?"

"Would help me lure the homeless, the ones she knew would not be missed. She was reluctant to do so, but I changed her mind."

John felt a bitter feeling rise in his throat. "And where is she now?"

Laura shrugged. "I don't know. Either my Master killed her or she escaped. We have not been in contact since."

"Do you always abandon your friends so easily, or was that a special case?"

A spark of anger in her eyes had John suppressing a surge of triumph. He got to her once, he could do it again.

"You might want to tread lightly, John. You have no idea what I can do."

"Why don't you tell me, then?"

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned towards him with a snarl. "That if I modified a different compound, I could shut off Sara's abilities completely. I would sneak out sometimes, and Sara would help me track down your kind. She came to like it, overtime. To enjoy the search, the hunt, the kill."

John struggled to keep his face emotionless, but judging by the way Laura's smile widened, he wasn't doing a particularly good job. "Sometimes our nights produced no fruit, but on others, I learned things I never would have know otherwise. Your telepathic abilities that you are so proud of - they make it far easier for me to control you than to attempt such a thing with a regular human." She laughed again, leaning back in her chair to take another sip of wine. "In evolving, you shed the natural defenses your ancestors carried to protect them from ones such as me. Your kind are even more vulnerable to my touch than humans are. Humans of the modern world may have forgotten that we exist, but they used to fear us as they did no others."

"So? What are you?" John asked, the anger making him snap. That strong gut instinct was back in full force, warning him to be careful. Warning that she was dangerous. As if he didn't know.

"I am a Practitioner of the High Arts of Magick." She swirled her nearly empty wineglass, and John realized that the level was slowly rising until it was half-full again. Laura followed his gaze and smiled, a full, happy, delighted-with-her-success smile. "A sorcerer, if you will."