Cheers for the reviews, much appreciated and needed on this chapter -- because I got utterly lost -- so thanks!


By the time I was ready to sleep, a headache was pulsing in my head. Isaac's arm lay over my naked body, comforting me. But the headache still penetrated my skull from the inside. I groaned. "What's wrong?" asked Isaac's voice in my ear. His warm breath shot a welcome shiver up my arm.

"Headache," I murmured. I knew I'd made the right decision. I felt so much closer to him now that we'd made love. I knew him now. I was amazed that I'd done it. That another door had opened in my life. I'd thought at first that marrying Isaac was closing doors. It was opening them.

"Do you want me to make you some tea?"

"Yes please," I whispered. I felt his weight leave the bed and the door opened, letting through a crack of light. I watched as my husband's toned, quite muscular body slipped out. Somehow, his shirt had stayed on throughout the entire thing. It had been sort of rushed, but it had been beautiful, I was sure. I stretched, my hands touching the headboard. I was a woman! I regretted having postponed it one night. It was silly of me and Bree.

My headache gave me an extra hard poke and I groaned again. Was I getting flu or something? Because that would be really crappy. It wasn't long before Isaac returned with a mug of the tea. He handed it to me.

I drank hastily, feeling the headache fade with each sip. After I was finished, I put it on the bedside table. I wondered if this was my room anymore, or was it his as well? I hoped so. The man in question stood at the end of the bed. I watched as he pulled on his boxers and work trousers. "Where are you going?" I asked him, wishing he'd come back and hold me like he had.

"A late night call," he said, "something's happening with the shares and my secretary needs me to go and sort it out."

"Oh," I said, a drop of sadness in my stomach.

He came round to my side and kissed me on the lips. "Thank you, Morgan," he said close to my ear again. I instinctively knew what he was referring to...

He ran his hand down my naked side as he walked away, and I was left alone in the dark room. Blocking out the rain, I listened as he revved his car up and left. I felt sad that he had to leave me on my night of becoming a proper woman, and sad that this probably happened often – emergency share problems, late night flights, malfunctioning Barbie dolls. Still, I thought, I'm his wife; I'll take the bad with the good. I slept after that, hoping he'd be holding me when I woke.

But there came a dream, something even in unconsciousness I didn't want.

In it, I looked out on what I recognized as the highway Isaac's driveway came onto. I was sitting on the high wall that marked the boundary of his – our – estate, waiting for something, hoping for something, the mailman? A friend? Rain fell hard against my back, but it didn't deter me. It was with eager anticipation that I watched cars whizz past, begging for one of them to slow down. None of them did.

A green Honda shot past and I shouted, "Stop! Please stop!" but it was already gone. I sat on that wall for hours, watching every face in every car, but I couldn't find what I searched for. The excitement wore off. My anticipation was depleted. I began to weep, my tears turning into beautiful white stars as they fell from my cheeks. They floated away from me, away across the farmer's paddock on the other side of the road. "Why? Why do you leave me?" I cried out to them, but they did not listen, though more continued to cascade down my cheeks.

"Morgan!" There came a loud, desperate call from somewhere around me. He had a beautiful voice...familiar, somehow...

"Morgan!" My eyes flicked open, and I realised there were real tears on my cheeks. Isaac's blank face hovered over mine. "It was just a dream," he said gruffly. I groaned and rolled over in bed. "I have to go, it's almost nine,"

"But you've worked all night!" I exclaimed.

"It's what happens in my business, Morgan," he said, tying his tie up.

"Wait," I said, "I'll do it," I got out of bed, not bothering with the covers, and fixed his tie for him. My father had taught me how to do it. I'd finished, but I left my hands on his chest and looked up into his dark eyes. He looked back down at me.

"What were you dreaming about?" He asked me.

"I don't know, just a nightmare, I guess," I said.

"Right, goodbye, I'll see you tonight," he said, and he kissed my lips briefly and left. I stood in that room, as my conscience told me who I'd been waiting for, again and again and again.

I ignored it.

Hunter

"Oh goddess, Morgan," I whispered to the night, leaning heavily on the fence, "Why? How could you do that...not when you love me, Morgan...not when you loved me?" To see her with someone else...it hurt so much. A blunt pain in my chest held strong. I wondered what Morgan was thinking. Thoughts of regret? No, that would be wishful thinking. She had married him, after all. She's given up on me, I thought, my fist clutching a fence post, she's forgotten me.

I'd always rested in the thought that we were muirn beatha dans, as if that would always bind her to me, as if that title would keep her from loving any other. But now I remembered that she'd loved Cal before me, she'd loved him as much as she loved me, probably, it was only when she found out his motives...so that's what I had to do? I had to go and tell her.

I stood up, flicked the rain out of my hair and went to my car. It didn't matter that I would probably die in the first five minutes; I would go there, I would tell her, show her I was alive, show her the mistake she'd made, remind her what proper love is, take her away from Hadrian, make her safe, and we'd be together again. Simple. I was revving up the engine when there was a knock on the window. I looked up to see Killian. I hesitated. I knew he would stop me from going...but what about Alisa? In the shock I'd forgotten about her. I wound down my window. Cold rain spat into my lap.

"Where the hell are you going?" Killian asked me, water droplets dripping from his hair.

"Morgan..." I said feebly.

"What happened?" He was suddenly poised and alert.

I looked at him. I didn't want to say it; I didn't want to confirm the words by saying that aloud. But he was Morgan's brother; he probably had more of her love than I did at present. "Hadrian and Morgan..." I said quietly.

Killian's face morphed into horror. "That bastard!" He seethed. I raised my eyebrow. Why couldn't I just blame Hadrian like Killian was? Why couldn't it all be his fault? Killian's fist clutched the lowered window, but it slowly relaxed, and he looked at me with sharp, dark eyes. "We have to get Alisa first, Hunter," he said carefully controlling his voice. "Then we'll go and kill him."

I nodded hesitantly. "Get in."

I speeded through Widow's Vale, ignoring several red lights, relying solely on my witch senses to keep me from crashing into anyone. "The circle went well," Killian told me, trying to distract us both from our fury.

"Did the ring melt?"

"Yes," he said, "how did you get it?"

"I got it off him when we were fighting," I said, swerving round a sharp corner.

"Was it fun?"

"Intensely," I muttered, "it'll be even better now."

I took a hasty left at a roundabout, getting an angry horn from someone. My windscreen wipers had trouble keeping up with the constant rainfall. "We'll have to dismantle the runes on the tombstone," I told him.

"Are you expecting more boundaries?"

"No, the boundaries he always puts around his victims are never broken, there's no need for more than one."

"So no one's been able to destroy them until now?"

"No, Bree's idea was genius." I said. We reached the outskirts and I hit the accelerator.

The car was silent as we sped past dark fields and paddocks. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. I would kill Hadrian, that was a given, and then I would just ask Morgan, ask her if she could possibly love me again? My chest hurt so much. This night, was it the end? The end of my love for her?

"This is it," I told Killian, ignoring such questions until after I'd killed Hadrian. I pulled out from the road, going through a gap in the fence.

"Let's make this quick," Killian muttered. We got out into the heavy rain. I didn't feel the cold. I generally kept my athame in my belt – airport security's useless at detecting glamours – and now I wielded it, quickly checking the shining blade and intricately carved hilt.

It was then we heard the first scream. It was a painful shriek, piercing and terrified, drowning in the rain and the night. Killian and I glanced at each other. It came again, louder. We locked eyes. The sudden realisation hit us that we had to focus on the task at hand, not, for the moment, on our anger at Hadrian. Alisa, that was Alisa's scream, her powers were being stolen from her. Alisa, the shy half-witch who'd never been sure on her magick, who'd had the strength to run away to Gloucester, to meet her unwelcoming family. I pictured her now, her Latino face and her timid expression. Alisa. We had to help her. We began to run.

A short trail led through a copse of trees to the cemetery. Branches snatched at my jeans and jacket, but I ignored them, pushing on. I remembered what Kennet Muir had told me about Hadrian's spell. Long since lost, only Hadrian knows it, and only he knows how to recall its power back. If we were too late, then Alisa, my friend and charge of two years ago, would lose her powers.

We reached the end of the trees. The cemetery sprawled around us. Gravestones, long since forgotten, stood slanted in the ground. Statues of soldiers and saint stood tall and frozen, locked in place. There was another scream.

"Alisa!" I shouted, running past the angel which blocked where I remembered the tomb to be. Killian followed. Passing the angel, we ran to the tomb. Alisa Soto writhed on top of it. Her short figure was clothed in mud slathered jeans and a soaked through t-shirt. Her normally quiet voice screamed loud and wiry as I put a hand on her forehead, "Alisa," I said desperately, "its okay, its okay we're here," I wasn't sure if she heard me or saw me, her hands clenched again and she let out another soul-tearing scream. "Killian, the runes!" I shouted through the rain.

"I'm on it!" He said, kneeling down at the base of the tomb. I looked at the ropes that tied Alisa to the stone. Gripping my athame, I stupidly tried to cut one. Dark magick jolted up my arm, throwing me into exquisite pain. I dropped my athame, clutching my arm.

"Bloody hell!" I spat, forcing my magick back down into my hand, battling out the dark magick. It felt distinctly like Hadrian. Like shit, to be perfectly blunt. The rain hit my back hard as I recovered as fast as I could and examined the ropes with my senses. Alisa's screams, the rain, Killian's and Hadrian's magick around mine, made it harder to focus. But I to feel it. The rope. Each fibre, encapsulated in darkness, making it indestructible to everything a human could impose upon it. Except magick.

My heritage warm against my chest, I reached for it, feeling the four elements support me. My magick reached into the rope again. I imaged air rushing through the strands, separating them from their prison bars. The earth, suffocating the darkness, and the fire, burning it burning the dark magick. "Ligean do dhuine!" I shouted. I felt the magick break its hold on Alisa, the ropes simultaneously snapped, releasing their captive. Alisa's deafening screams were muted a little, but I knew it wasn't over. So long as the runes on the tombstone associated her with Hadrian's power bank, they would continue to steal her power. My jacket was drenched and heavy as I lifted her off the stone. She moaned deliriously, her head hanging back as I held her.

Killian was kneeling at the base of the stones, swiftly stabbing his own plain athame into the rock like butter, protected by his magick. With my senses, I felt them glow. "Killian, take Alisa to the car, the power will have further to go from here to there, I'll do the runes."

"No," he said over the clatter of rain, still working on the runes, "you go, I'll finish." I hesitated, then nodded, and, getting a securer hold on Alisa, started off at a run back through the graveyard. Alisa was light, she gripped my back as carried her, tearing at my jacket as waves of the spell stole her magick from her. I realised just what she was going through. I had seen many witches' faces as I'd taken their powers from them, but I had been transporting them to the gentle Mother Goddess. Hadrian was ripping her powers from her. Like ripping off a limb.

"Hold on, Alisa," I whispered, "this pain will stop, you'll be--" something in the air suddenly changed. I stopped just behind the stone angel we'd run past. I placed Alisa on the ground behind it, the tomb the angel stood on hiding her from view. The sound of the rain had dimmed; the moon had gone behind the clouds...someone else was here.

I was down on my knees with a hand over her mouth before Alisa could scream. There, ten paces from the tombstone, Hadrian stood pale faced, glaringly, arms by his sides. Looking out between the angel's wing and body, I saw he wore much the same clothes I'd last properly seen him in; black dress pants, white shirt, black suit jacket. I was transfixed. This was the man, the man who'd stolen me away from Morgan, who'd almost killed my father, who'd almost killed me. He was the one man in the world I wouldn't hesitate in killing. But then I remembered.

Killian! I cried into his mind. He stood face to face with Hadrian in front of the tomb, a few feet between them. He didn't look scared, just pensive.

Don't do anything, Hunter, stay with Alisa, his voice in my mind was calm and solemn. So far, Hadrian hadn't sensed me, but I wondered how long it would take before he did.

Killian, he'll kill you, I pleaded with him, run, run and I'll stall him.

No, I have something to say to him. I realised why he'd wanted me to take Alisa away. He'd known Hadrian was here. Whilst I'd been stopping myself from casting my senses, Killian had sensed Hadrian.

Don't do this, Killian. I told him. He didn't reply.

"MacEwan," said Hadrian, his voice calm and strong. My chest clenched at that voice. I wanted to stand, but more than that I wanted Killian to run. "Since when have you been a protector of the virtuous?"

Killian folded his arms. "Since when did you start marrying your victims?" He asked back.

"Morgan's different," Hadrian said.

"Yes," agreed Killian, and I could see from here the flame in his eyes, "she's my sister." His voice was tense. He stepped forward, fists clenched. Hadrian's hand suddenly shot out.

"Pian a bheith ort, bheith i bpian!" He cried. Killian fell mid step to the ground with a yelp of pain. He rolled, clutching his chest, and coughed, blood spurting out of his mouth. Hadrian flicked his wrist again and Killian's entire body lifted and then fell back to the ground. He coughed up blood again, shaking. Hadrian slowly lowered his hand, still the same distance away, and said darkly, "don't look so brave, lad, you know about me, use your wits,"

Killian, trembling, stood up gradually, until he was at his full height again. "Not to blow one's own trumpet, hmm?" Killian murmured, wiping his blood off his mouth. This, I noted with nervous enjoyment, infuriated Hadrian. His face turned in a scowl.

"You're a very interesting specimen of a MacEwan. Your father's dissimilar from you; he was always out to get something, always doing business, even when he knew I wanted to take his powers."

"But you didn't," said Killian, "They were stripped by the very woman you married,"

"Yes, well as you can probably guess, not much of that resilience is left on her," I swallowed tensely, my hand on Alisa's mouth tightening. "She's very...agreeable now."

"What, when you raped her?" Asked Killian promptly. Hadrian raised his eyebrow in surprise, but it quickly passed.

"Actually, she offered," he said. My breathing seized. The blunt pain suddenly became sharp, piercing me, reminding me.

"You fucking bastard!" A purple ball of magick flew from Killian's hand at Hadrian's head. Hadrian reflected it right back at him. It hit Killian square in the chest. With an 'oof' he was thrown back. He quickly recovered, standing up straight and tall, "don't you do anything to my sister!" He yelled, and threw another ball at him. Hadrian pursed his lips, this time flicking it over his shoulder. Killian, undeterred, breathed deeply in anger and launched himself at Hadrian, fists ready to box him in. Hadrian held up his hand, and Killian stopped in mid-step. I could see the little stream of dark magick coming from Hadrian's palm to Killian's chest. It pushed against him, forcing Killian back as if he were simply air. Killian snarled in pain.

"You'll never be as strong as me, lad, remember that," Hadrian told him darkly.

"Yeah?" said Killian hoarsely, the magick infecting his chest, "well at least my magick is my own. You're like a witch on steroids," he croaked with a grave smirk, "and we all know what the side effects are," I was so full of nervous energy that I almost laughed. But quickly uneasy amusement turned to anxiety. Hadrian once again threw Killian back with his magick, smacking his head against the tombstone. Hadrian was right in front of him in a blink.

"Tell me where the girl is, MacEwan," Killian looked delirious.

Killian! Get up, you have to move! I tried yelling at him.

I can't, was the vague response.

"No," he murmured aloud, "what do you want from her?"

Hadrian smirked gravely, looking more dangerous than ever, "someone. Will you tell me now?"

"No,"

"So be it," Hadrian's hand shot out. I watched in horror as thick, great black magick drove its way into Killian's chest. It spread out into his body. I saw it through my witch senses, stiffening. From here the pain was dreadful, from there...Killian shrieked, his face morphed and stretched as he writhed. "Tell me!" Demanded Hadrian. I don't know why Killian didn't. Maybe the pain, but something told me it was his honour. The magick channelled into Killian like an army raiding a fortress. He shrieked chillingly. "Tell me now, MacEwan!" But Killian didn't. I felt his consciousness fading. So did Hadrian. He broke off his magick, and Killian slumped against the tombstone, out cold...for how long? I wanted to go to him, I needed to make sure he was okay, but Hadrian was there. He kicked Killian's body off the side of the tomb and knelt down to examine his runes. As he touched the first of the broken carvings, Alisa suddenly stiffened in my lap.

"Alisa," I whispered as softly as I could, stroking her forehead. Her eyes were full of frantic fear. Hadrian ran his hand along the runes, checking them. My breathing was stumped. If he found one rune still alive, he could take all her power from it. She had been tied there long enough to charge every rune, and they were all connected. I watched his face carefully. His mouth was in a sneer of anger, and I felt hopeful, but I remembered Morgan's words: things can always get worse. Suddenly, Hadrian stood up. He swiftly went round the tombstone, stepping on Killian's chest to get there. He knelt at the end closest to us.

"Yes!" Exclaimed Hadrian – in the true manner of a madman – into the quiet patter of rain. He placed his hand on the rune which must have been there. "Is Liomsa sin!"

Alisa gasped, her face suddenly going pale. I watched in horror as white and orange magick seeped out of the unbroken rune into Hadrian's body. Alisa writhed again in my lap. I held her tightly, trying to comfort her. It didn't work; she was as delirious as before. Alisa's magick flowed willingly into Hadrian's body like a gentle stream. I couldn't let this happen, but I couldn't lose my chance at saving Morgan. If he saw me he'd take Morgan away. If he saw me, I would save Alisa's power. Time made the choice for me. Like getting sucked into a vacuum, the last of Alisa's power went into Hadrian, and something was shut off. "No more shall she wake a witch," announced Hadrian to his one companion – darkness. Alisa suddenly slackened on my lap.

"Alisa," I whispered desperately, brushing her hair back, but the ordeal had been too much for her. It happened a lot when witches lost their magick.

The girl I now held in my arms was now a normal human. Her light had gone out.

Hadrian let out a deep breath and stretched, flexing his fingers. I watched him darkly. After he'd secured his high, he regarded Killian -- who had lain too still on the ground for the entire nightmare -- with a ponderous expression, then snapped round and left. I watched him go. "You will be brought to justice, Hadrian," I whispered to his disappearing form, "by both the Goddess and me."

I listened to the quiet for a moment, the gentle patter of rain, the rustle of the wind, and ensured that the bastard had left. Then I looked down at Alisa. With my mage sight I saw again that she was scratched and muddy. In her unconsciousness she was still shivering. I dared not wake her. It was best if she rested before coming to terms with what had happened. Leaving her lying on the wet grass, I went out from behind the stone angel. My legs were stiff from crouching, but it felt so good to be able to move again. The hold Hadrian had over me was too powerful. It had to end. But I knew it was not tonight. I knelt down next to Killian and shook him lightly on the shoulder.

"Killian," I said quietly. I prayed that he was alive. "Killian?" His eyelids flickered a second, and I shook him a little harder, "come on, wake up," he blinked and looked at his surrounding for a moment, figuring out where he was. He succeeded, and looked at me.

"Did he get her powers?" He asked weakly.

I nodded grimly, "are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said. He got getting up shakily, leaning on the bloodied tombstone for support. I stood up with him, "my chest hurts a little, though."

"Do you want me to heal you?"

"Actually, I think I've had enough magick for one night," he said with a short smile, "is Alisa alright? Aside from the obvious?"

"Let's just get her home," I said.

I carried her in my arms as we walked back through the spitting rain. Killian tripped beside me. "Are you sure you're alright? He pretty much tortured you twice."

"Yes," he told me tiredly, and I didn't push it further. We reached the car. I sat Alisa in the back seat and buckled her seatbelt, then got in. It was silent for the first ten minutes back to Widow's Vale. Killian gazed out of the window at the night sky. I kept my eyes on the road, driving at a reasonable speed this time. My body clock said half-past midnight, though the sky showed no sign of a new day. I felt sick with pain at the thought that we had achieved nothing, we had helped no one, and Killian had almost gotten killed in the process. But we knew one tiny piece of information: he wanted someone. I didn't know who, though my seeker self was already making a list: Selene, me, Da, the head of the council, Eofie. Morgan had associated with powerful witches in the past, the best in their areas of magick. They were powerful, obviously, but in comparison...

It was a long drive home, and I was tired. Alisa slept soundly in the back of the car. I knew she wouldn't sleep like that again for a long time. Dreams, I heard, haunted witches who'd been stripped. Every time they closed their eyes memories would come to them, memories which drove a stake of despair and loss deep into their chests. A man I'd stripped had described it to me, trying to make me guilty. He succeeded, maybe, but I understood my job well enough. He'd been using dark magick to murder Woodbanes near Aberdeen. His ugly, sagging face flashed in my mind. Hadrian looked nothing like him, no where near as noticeable, yet he was that much worse. Stripping fifty witches of their magick is like murdering fifty, accept they won't move on – they will keep living in despair to a ripe old age. Although, I added in an afterthought, so many took their own lives out of the pain of it. I realised I needed to have a serious talk with Charlie and Alisa's father. I glanced in my mirror at the girl sleeping in the back seat. I wouldn't let her life end, physically or mentally. There are ways to connect with magick without having it within you. Magick is everywhere.

When we finally got to Bree's gate it was around one-thirty. I carried the still sleeping Alisa in my arms; Killian stood next to me, yawning. "Ever since you came, Niall, I have had a serious lack of sleep." He murmured.

Then I started yawning as I pressed the doorbell – it was like pushing the titanic with my pinky finger, I was so tired. "Quit yawning, MacEwan, it's contagious." I heard running footsteps in the hall, and the door opened to reveal a relieved Bree.

"What the hell took you so long?" Bree demanded.

"Ugh!" Exclaimed Killian, rubbing his face wearily, "let us in or I might just crash here on your doorstep." Bree looked him up and down.

"Why are you so pale?"

"'cause I'm tired!" He grumbled.

"Alisa!" Charlie came running down the hall. As if she sensed he was close, Alisa began to stir in my arms. Her coffee eyes flickered open drowsily. I set her down on her feet, and she was immediately enveloped by Charlie. With one second more of confusion, she gripped his back and burst into tears. Bree at last admitted us into the warm. I went into the living room. There sat Raven, Robbie and a blonde haired witch who I was so happy to see I even forgot I was dead on my feet.

"Sky!" I exclaimed as we hugged.

"Why hello, deserter!" She laughed, patting me condemningly on the back.

"How was your flight?" I asked, examining my cousin's face.

"Ugh, tiring as ever," she said submissively, "you know the council is pretty angry about your little run away?"

"Of course they are, they get angry about everything,"

"You're not going to tell them?"

"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'.

Athar grinned, "Finally, you're rebelling again,"

"Well, I must say chasing down Ana Heathcote's spelled chickens is not the most stimul—"

"Hunter!" Bree called from the hallway. We went out. Bree was fine, but Killian lay face up on the plush carpet, out cold, about two metres from the door.

"I didn't think he was serious about the whole collapsing thing..." murmured Bree, "he must be really tired."

"No," I said, kneeling down next to him.

"Dark magick," muttered Sky, joining me. I studied him, extending my senses, then I hurriedly unzipping his jacket and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. There, in the centre of his chest was a faded black spot, no bigger than a pound, but it was like a spider, with black tentacles sprawling over his chest. "Goddess..." breathed Sky.

I looked up at Bree, "call Alyce..." I told her gravely, "you'll never guess who we met at the graveyard."