Disclaimer: Kelley Armstrong owns the characters and plots from her Darkest Powers and Women of the Otherworld Series, not I.

(Jeremy's POV)

"Clay, sit down please." Clay is pacing the study and making a low growling noise. He sits, but glares at me and continues to growl.

"Clay!" Elena snaps and he huffs before cutting off the growl.

I sigh. "I understand your concern, but I think that if anything really is going on down in Richmond, I or Elena can better handle it than you, Clay."

"I know that!" Clay snaps. "I know that when it comes to teenagers, you and Elena are always better choices. I think I need to go because—"

I raise my hand to cut him off. "We've been over this. Normally, I would send Elena, but I want to go."

I haven't given this reason for going to be with Jaime yet and had hoped that I wouldn't have to. I don't ever want anything as far as the Pack knows. I enjoy marksmanship and painting and Jaime's company. But the Pack Alpha doesn't ever want to do anything except do what's best for the Pack. I don't self-indulge. Ever.

Elena smiles smugly and Clay stares at me silently. Then he stands. "Okay." And he leaves the room. "Tell Jaime 'Hi' from me."

This time I don't say anything from surprise. Clay doesn't ever talk to Jaime voluntarily. I know now that Clay will be considerably more tolerable towards Jaime, but I had wanted him to get to this point on his own. Maybe he never would have.

Elena leans back into the couch, still smiling at me. I stare impassively at her. "Elena." I smile at her, just barely.

Suddenly, there's a ruckus outside. Kate and Logan are tussling in nearby brush, Kate squealing and Logan laughing. Elena smiles and stands up, looking longingly at the door.

"Go." I say it softly, indulging Elena. She turns to look at me, torn. Then she straightens her back, her hands going to her hips.

"No." I sigh, already knowing what she's going to do.

"Come on, Jeremy. Please, take someone with you. We don't know if anything's going to come of what Jaime said, but we can't afford any mistakes. Please, take Noah. Reese. Nick, Antonio, someone. Just don't go again without backup. If something like those humans doing magic happens again, Clay won't let you out of this house again without backup." Her eyes tell me she has sympathy for what I have to go through and relief that she doesn't have to. Yet. I'm supposed to have total authority and be able to do whatever I damn well please. But I have responsibility and if the Pack doesn't want me to go I need to honor that.

I sigh. I expected this. I just thought it would be Clay saying it, not Elena. But naturally, I suppose Clay knew if he didn't get his way, Elena would get hers and it was close enough to his wants that he'd settle.

Yes. If Clay couldn't come with me to personally bodyguard me, then he'd let Elena talk me into taking someone else instead. Choosing between staying at home with his family and leaving to protect me is difficult, but he'll always protect me if Kate and Logan are safe at Stonehaven.

"I've already phone Tonio. Reese left a couple hours ago. He should be here within the hour. Noah will be coming, too." I raise my eyebrow at Elena when she doesn't respond.

She doesn't react at first but then a slight smile is turned toward me. "Can I suggest something?" I hold my hand out, inviting her to speak freely. Not that she wouldn't anyway.

She leans forward, suddenly intent. "Take Nick, not Noah. Nick's getting restless, he needs something to distract him. The business isn't enough anymore. Reese and Noah don't need constant babysitting either. He needs something." He face is worried, though she's trying not to be. Elena can't help worrying about everyone. Which is just one of the reason why she'll be a great Alpha.

After a moment's contemplation, I nod. "Okay, I'll make the call, get Nick to come, too. Noah can stay here with you and Clay. I know Clay wanted to teach him a few things." Elena smiles, knowing Clay will be pleased to be teaching Noah skills that Kate and Logan are too young to learn.

Then another change in mood, again. Elena is often jumping from thought to thought and her moods jump with them.

She looks irritated. "I could go with you," her voice close to a whine. After a reproaching look, I sigh again.

"No, you can't. And you know why." Without me here, Elena is in second in command. "Kate and Logan have a school program on Friday, don't they?" I say, trying for a distraction.

She gives me a stubborn look that says she knows what I'm doing. Then she chooses to let it go. As she should. Elena smiles grudgingly. "Tell Jaime to get more sleep. I talked to her this morning. She didn't tell you, but Eve kept her up most of the night researching a family dying in a fire. Then she had that whole redecorating thing." Elena sits back down and stares out of the window, thinking about something. I wait.

"You know, when I first met Jaime, I thought she was a flighty ditz." Her words stir up an anger I am not usually comfortable feeling, but I hide it from her. Mostly because I know there's a 'but' coming.

Elena looks back at me, expressionless except for the worry in the slight tensing of her facial muscles and the stiff posture of her back. "If I could think something like that about Jaime, I wonder what it means about my judgment."

This is not the first time Elena has subtly hinted that she wouldn't be the best choice for Pack Alpha without outright saying she doesn't want it. She does, she just doubts herself.

My mouth flattens into a hard line and I think a moment before responding. "Could you go down with Kate and Logan to the front gate to meet Reese and Noah?" Choosing to ignore her worries never works, but Elena is smart enough to know that she'll get an answer. How she'll get her answer is the mystery. Sometimes I don't even have to give one and she comes up with it by herself. Other times, it is subtle things, like how I answer one of the other's questions, and it doubles as an answer to her. She always knows when it's for her.

Elena waits for me to say more and when I don't she stands with a sigh and turns to leave.

I say, quietly, before she closes the door, "Easy to do that with Jaime. She's a very hard woman to uncover, she's guarded." Elena freezes in the doorway without turning to look at me. "You are not the only one who was surprised."

After Elena has left, I head upstairs to grab my suitcase and call Jaime.

I leave a message on her voicemail when she doesn't answer. "Hey, it's Jeremy. I am coming and will be there Friday before your show on Saturday. I am bringing Nick and Reese and we'll stop in with Karl on the way. I've been meaning to talk to him for awhile, but he's been ignoring me. I need his particular skills, but he won't leave Hope for anything less than an outright global emergency.

"I got your message about the teenagers, by the way. I am not sure if it's anything to be troubled about. See you soon." The beep signaling my time is up sounds before I whisper, "But I think there's more going on than we can guess with those kids, Jaime. I can feel it. Be careful."

(Tori's POV)

I'm falling apart. The seams of my sanity are really coming undone this time. I collapse and start to curl into the fetal position, convulsing.

Emotions are racing through me: fear, anger, rage, confusion. So many things. I can't handle it, so I grip my hair and start pulling on it. I can hold this—my hair—tug this, feel this through everything racing around inside me. I feel other things, too. The tile is too cold, too hard. The slight moisture in the walls is grimy. The pounding of my heart is too hard, too loud in my ears. I feel fevered: sweat beads on my forehead while I shudder and shake with shivers. I'm burning alive and freezing to death.

The women's bathroom in the gas station I ran to is a single person room; no one can see me imploding. I ran here instead of the mall, not trusting myself to be around all those people. I can't trust myself around the only people I've ever cared about and have ever cared about me.

My hands are stiff and seizing with magic that I can't get under control, but somehow I'm not letting it out. The pressure is killing me. My head is scarily blank and foggy with the high that comes with the magic that I've become addicted to. I'm worse than a heroin addict, constantly sipping magic throughout the day. One moment, flying high, the next crashing and burning. Often I come back to reality and see that the world is burning too. Like the microwave or pictures on the wall. Or a dent in the van, with scorch marks in it. No, no, no. Don't think about that. Chloe's fine. Derek protected her. He'll always protect her. You don't need to worry about Chloe. The voice in my head is at once, welcome and terrifying. I know it all too well.

The magic is so tempting…and it's always there. It never goes away, is never far from the surface. Welcoming, encouraging me to take a sip, just a small sip of its lovely and potent power. The bitch of the magic always being there isn't so much its coaxing voice. The bitch is that it is constantly cueing me into things I'd rather it not cue me into. A sixth sense blown way out of proportion.

But what's really fucked up is—it's also a comfort. Insane, right? But it is like…(no judgment from this sappy comparison, alright?) a blanket in a cold world—constantly providing warmth as it runs through my veins with fire.

Power, seductive and invigorating. There is no fear with magic.

But when I have magic, the thought of control disappears. And what's more, why would I want to control something as beautiful as unbridled, untamed, glorious magic? Why would I do that? You don't cover up art. You don't kill babies. No. It's wrong, on so many levels.

I feel it again. It's building, pounding on the walls of my tenuous control. Whispering sweet, compelling words to me. My mind fogs more, my blood sings. I can't think…and I remember why.

Why I want to cover up this art.

Why I want to kill this baby.

Why I want to control this magic.

Because that beauty, that baby, that art…is a disguise for pain, chaos, and destruction. It's all a façade. It's lies and cheats and manipulation. I don't know about all other types of magic, but my magic…it's a killer. Pure and simple, it brings destruction.

It also gives me immense power. I can do anything with it. I have no limitations, no chains. Freedom.

Damn it, damn it. I plug my ears and rock faster, faster. No, no, no. Lies, lies, lies. It's not real, Tori. Not real. Rocking, moaning, keening, scratching at the tile, pulling my hair.

A place, a tiny, tiny place, clears in my head. The fog ascends momentarily, and I grasp at the part of me that's revealed, lunging and holding on with everything I have left. I hold this like a newborn. I revel in the piece of myself and covet it like art. I protect it, curling myself around it, shield it from the fog. And I breathe. I feel my lungs ballooning, inhaling and exhaling. The rhythm is ragged and uneven. But it's something I can feel, besides the magic.

I come back into myself, pulling out of the crazy person fog that magic transfixes me in. I notice that I am cold and rocking back forth on a bathroom floor of a Kum-&-Go. Keening softly to myself, I'm hugging my knees and my hair is falling into my face, long and wild.

Oh, God. What's happening to me?

Mentally, I slap myself. I stop keening, stop rocking. Come on, Tori. Get a hold of yourself. You can do this.

With an extreme effort, I start stitching the seams back together.

My breathing evens out and my heart rate descends. The sweat beads roll down my face and collect in the hollow bellow my neck and around the neckline of my t-shirt. Magic still pulses through me, but I think about my breathing, using the yoga techniques I learned, channeling my instructor's soothing voice and try to bring peace to myself.

It doesn't work, I'll never have peace, but the magic is leashed. For now.

I grab some toilet paper from the roll on the wall above my head and wipe my face clean of tears. Suddenly, I mourn what my white shorts will look like after sitting on this dirty floor.

I take a few more minutes to compose myself a little more, getting re-acclimated to having the magic racing through my veins instead of flowing and pulsing out of me. I feel the burn of containing my magic and close my eyes against the pain. If I have to live with this my entire life, with the burning fire getting worse every time I lose control, I'm going to have a short life. Whether my life ends naturally or not, by my hand or not, remains to be seen. But I don't know how much longer I can stand this.

My legs raise me up and I clutch the dirty sink for support, my legs shaking like a newborn colt's. I can't feel my toes and realize they've fallen asleep, as well as my butt. I rub my backside, trying to regain some feeling. At the same time I check myself in the mirror.

I look horrible, as is expected after having a breakdown in the bathroom of a gas station. My hair is a disaster and running my fingers through it only seems to make it worse, wilder. I try to get all the tear stains off my face and reapply minimal makeup from the emergency stash I have in my purse. The result is limited success. My nose is red, my eyes watery and fear lingers in my expression as well as despair. But I don't have to hide it. I'm on my own. No one cares what's going on with me here. I can act however I want. It's a relief, not pretending to be normal and balanced. Not that I do a particularly good job of that anyway, when it counts.

Someone bangs on the door, making me jump and I feel the magic surge, feeling like heart burn throughout my entire body. Heart burn after just eating a jar of jalapeño peppers.

I square my shoulders as I try not to double over from the pain of the magic and sling my purse over my shoulder and walk out of the bathroom. An angry mother rushes into the bathroom carrying a crying toddler.

When I leave the gas station, I have to decide what to do next. I can walk around, just wander aimlessly. But I want to be surrounded by people. Strangers. People who know nothing about me, have no judgment. I want to feel normal.

I head toward the mall, where I told Derek, Chloe and Simon and would be. I glance at my watch and figure that I have until 10:00 tonight before anyone gets worried about me being back at the house. I have just about six hours, a little less.

When I get to the mall, I pick a table in the food court and just people watch.

Two couples about my age, maybe a year or two younger than me, are walking toward a pretzel stand. They look like they're on a double date, all talking animatedly to their dates. As I watch, the skinny blond in the group jumps into her boyfriend's arms and wraps her legs around him and they're laughing. He swings her around before going to stand in line, still holding her despite her protests.

A mom a few tables away from me struggles to calm her screaming toddler and clean up the mess he made with his ice cream cone. She looks tired and her clothes are dull and look worn often.

Countless people walk by on there way to various stores, stopping to grab a bite to eat or not. Some in a hurry, some just here for a leisurely day with friends. Single people, groups of teens, couples of all ages. Big, tall, skinny, short, emo, preppy, well-groomed or not. And I hear countless conversations. A couple fighting, two friends planning a surprise party, three Frat boys hooting about last night's party, middle aged men and women complaining, and three colleges girl bitching about a professor. They all walk by me as I sit.

After a while, I get up and grab some fries to eat while I watch. I snack until they're gone and my mind is numb to everything except the dull burn in my body.

When I've had enough of wallowing in self-pity about how I'll never be like any of these people, carefree and normal, I get up and start to wander through stores. I pick up and discard shirts and shorts and pants and skirts. I buy a few. Then I try on a dress I think I'll wear to Jaime Vegas's show. I buy that too. I browse through books and phone covers and look at the newest version of the iPhone. Then, I let myself go to the place I really want to go.

The Mac store.

I revel in the technology there, looking at programs and computers and all kinds of gadgets. I don't buy and don't touch. I just look.

I glance at my watch and see that I should leave before the mall closes and find somewhere else spend the remaining hours before I'm forced to go to the farmhouse.

As I'm leaving the store, a guy bumps into me and I flinch. I've avoided touching anyone so far. The contact is just as bad as I thought it would be. Flames lick through my veins starting at the point on my arm where the stranger brushed me. The pain is excruciating and I can't help but let out a hiss and turn to glare at the guy who mumbles 'sorry.'

I freeze when I see whom I'm glaring at. I've seen this guy before. Oh, no.

Apparently, he knows me, too. "Hey!" a gorgeous smile is turned my way. Beautiful, pale skin and golden blond hair, muscles like a god, and the smile of an angel. Eyes as golden as his hair, reflect earnestness at me. Randy. "Aren't you the girl who's always at the computer class at the Rec?" Yes, yes I am. Now play it cool, Tori. It's only a boy. Sure, the most swoon worthy boy you've ever met, but still just a boy.

It's a moment before I can speak, so I cover the silence by moving my hands into my back pockets and stopping my glare, though my skin still burns and my body radiates pain. I swallow. "Uh, yeah. I think I've seen you there before." Damn, my voice sounds hoarse from disuse and crying. I try to remember if I fixed my makeup after my breakdown. Shit, is there still dirt on my pants? That's just what I need, Hot Randy seeing my dirt covered ass.

Another smile and Randy reaches up, I think to put his hand on my arm, saying "Sorry I ran into you. I was distracted," but I quickly take a step back so he can't touch me again. Great, I finally have a opportunity to touch Randy and I can't because at the moment it'll feel like a blowtorch. His brows furrow and a confused look crosses his face before his hand drops awkwardly back to his side. After a moment the look disappears and he hides it. His smile looks more embarrassed now and he runs his hand over the back of his head. Oh, cute. A nervous gesture.

I clear my throat before speaking this time, hoping to not sound so gruff. "Uh, no problem. Same with me. I mean, I was distracted, too." Damn, I'm practically stuttering, like Chloe. I give a slight smile, barely, through the pain that won't go away and look him in the eye. "Anyway, uh, I'm Tori." A fuller smile now, in place of the handshake that I desperately wish I could give him. I can't handle touching him right now.

His smile is less embarrassed now and his shoulders relax. I realize he'd tensed up when I wouldn't let him touch me. He must not be used to people shying away from him. "I'm Randy." His voice makes my knees feel weak. A low bass voice that resonates power and dark promises. I swallow, loudly unfortunately.

"I know." Oh, shit. Did I just say that?

He gives me another, more confused look and his head tilts sideways. "Huh?"

I laugh, and it sounds casual. Thank God. I can cover this mishap. "I just mean, I've seen you at the Rec before. You work there, right?" When he nods, still looking confused, I hold my hand up to my chest and pretend to trace a nametag. "You wear a nametag. I noticed." Duh, I think.

He lets out a quick chuckle. "Oh, right. Duh. I've worked there all through high school and we never had nametags. It's a new thing. I guess I'm still getting used to it."

All through high school, huh? How old are you? Sophomore or Freshman in college? Are you in college? I don't think he's more than just a few years older than me.

There's an awkward pause and I know it's time for this little shindig to end.

"Well, maybe I'll see you later," I say and take a step back, the door to the store opening a couple inches behind me. He nods.

"Yeah, definitely. See you, Tori." He gives a little half wave and I turn around to leave. As I look back when I'm outside of the store and walking away, he's turned around and is talking to a cashier, a cute blond.

Well, that was…interesting. And, weird enough, I don't feel as depressed anymore. I take a deep breath and decide not to wait until ten to go back to the farmhouse. I pull out my phone.

"Chloe?...Yeah, are you guys still in town?...Yeah, I'm done shopping, too. Are you guys ready to head back yet?...Okay. Bye."

I sit down to wait for the van to get here and watch more normal people walk in and out of the mall. As I sit there, my earlier melancholy returns. I realize that Randy is human. Very much so. I can fantasize all I want about him, but really, what kind of relationship could we have? Friends? Boyfriend/Girlfriend? I don't think even friends would be safe. I'm dangerous. My life is dangerous.

Randy is just an unsuspecting guy that I like to stare at. And had a kind of conversation with a few minutes ago. He's also obviously into cute blond cashiers. What am I thinking?

But that just leads to another thing. Will I ever get a boyfriend? Will I be a spinster? Or am I going to have to pull a Chloe and fall for a supernatural? No! I refuse to date a werewolf. I do not need that protective shit Chloe deals with constantly.

I sigh again. Don't think about it. Just get through tonight. Look forward to the show on Saturday and try to control your stupid magic.

Easier said than done, I tell myself.