A/N: Writing: somewhere between torture and fun. Oh, but what a lovely torture it is! That being said, I have recently taken some personal time to escape this hectic world to write another chapter. I hope you enjoy! :)

"Don't give me excuses," Wesley snarled into the phone. "Kilik is dead. I need her in Chicago now." He rose and stood before the tall windows of his study, staring out at the London dawn as the first faint streaks of sun burned off the fog. The sky beyond was still dim enough that he could also see his own reflection superimposed on the tinted glass. It was Thursday morning. He had twenty days. Wesley turned his gaze to the dark spot on the silk wallpaper where the Dark Glass had hung for so long. It was now empty. Soul's captivity had been a constant source of amusement to him—the legendary Keltar, the most powerful of all Druids of his time, caged and outwitted by one Wesley Evans. His hands fisted, his jaw clenched. That empty spot would be filled again, and soon. Returning his attention to the conversation, he snapped, "The Alban woman knows she's in danger now. There's no telling what she'll do. I need her taken care of immediately. But first, I need that damned mirror back. Kilik said it was in the professor's office. Have her ship it to my private residence the moment she obtains it. Then get rid of the girl and anyone else who's seen it." Damn kilik. The police were asking too many questions, and he suspected at least one or two officers had seen the Dark Glass, which meant retiring a few members of law enforcement, and those cases never closed. In the past he'd not denied kilik his preference for strangulation, so long as he went in, disposed of all problems before the police found any bodies, and got out fast, before an investigation was even opened. But he hadn't. He'd failed with the woman and ended up dead himself. Which gave Wesley no small amount of pause. How had kilik ended up on the commons with his neck broken? He could think of one man that possessed the deadly strength and skill to snap the assassin's neck as if popping chicken bones: Soul Evens. And if that was the case, someone had let him out of the mirror. Not good, not good at all. The only person he could fathom might have done so was the Albarn woman. According to Kilik, when he'd last checked in, there were four people in Chicago who'd seen the Dark Glass and one Maka Albarn was the final one to be dispatched. Wesley knew well that his brother had a way with women. His upper lip curled in disgust. So much was wasted on his brother.

Not just looks, strength, and charisma, but wild, pure magic. The kind of power Wesley had envied. And envied for a very long time. Wesley had worked dozens of lifetimes to achieve a mere fraction of the power that his brother had merely been born with. Lucky bastard.

His brother was no fool.

If the Albarn woman had indeed been seduced to his brother's bidding, then Wesley was sending one of his best assassins to her death. She had come into his service quietly, but had quickly one of his favorite female assassins, but even she would be a lost cause. He'd have his answer soon enough though. If she went missing, he'd know he had a far more serious problem on his hands than he'd thought.

He had to get her to the university as soon as possible.

"Tell her to put her other contract on hold. I need her now." A pause. A growl. "I don't believe you have no way of reaching her. Find one. Get her in Chicago today or else." He listened a moment, holding the phone away from his ear. After a long pause, he said tightly, "I don't think you understand. I want her there now. I'd advise you to pass on my orders to her and let her decide." He hung up the phone, terminating the call. He knew what she would do. She trafficked in death for a living, and feared little, but she feared Wesley. She was the only one of his employees who had seen his true form. She knew his true nature. She would obey. He rubbed his jaw, eyes narrowed. Halloween was too swift approaching. For the first time in centuries, he felt a whisper of unease. He'd been untouchable, virtually invincible for so long that, he didn't quite recognize the feeling. At least he knew exactly where the mirror was. That alleviated much of his unease. Still, if it wasn't in his possession within a very short time, he would have no choice but to go after it himself. He greatly preferred not to. Soul had once had immense power before being locked away in the dark glass.

Dare he confront his brother with his full powers intact on unwarded ground? Surely, after a thousand years, he'd surpassed Soul and was the greater sorcerer at last! He turned away from the windows, wishing he felt certain of that. It had not been his superior sorcery that had put Soul where he was. It had been well-played deceit and treachery. Wesley grimaced at the idea of going toe to toe with his brother. Perhaps he wouldn't have to though.

Perhaps Soul hadn't been freed. Perhaps Kilik had merely fallen prey to another assassin. They did that sometimes, went after each other for money or glory or the challenge of it. Yes, maybe it was too soon to be worried. He'd know for certain in a day or two when Tsubaki made her move. Then he'd decide upon his next move.

Soul stood rigidly, hands fisted at his sides, waiting. He'd known she would return. She was no fool. She'd been wise enough to identify the mirror as her most effective weapon when kilik had threatened her; he'd not doubted she'd see the wisdom of his offer. She was a bright woman, he could tell by the green fire that burned in her eyes. Soul had not been certain how long it might take her to come back, and time was everything to him now. Twenty days. 'Twas all he needed from her. 'Well.. not, by far, all he wanted from her. What he really wanted from her would bring a blush to the cheeks of even the most practiced woman. Soul shook his head, reining in his lust filled thoughts. He couldn't lose track of his mission. Suddenly, he heard the slamming of a door, determined stomping of little feet, then her voice, sounding none too thrilled. Soul let out a sigh of relief and rushed to the opening of his prison. Standing a few feet beyond his prison, staring at him, her dark green eyes were huge, her lips softly parted, and her chest rising and falling with each anxious breath she drew.

She looked terrified, yet determined.

"I'm not letting you out until you answer a few questions," she informed him coolly. Soul snorted with impatience. Of all the moments for her to get contrary! Women certainly knew how to pick them. "Wench, we have no time for this." Soul growled, his red eyes narrowing slightly. "Wes has no doubt already dispatched another assassin who is drawing nearer as speak." " 'Wes'?!" Maka pounced. "Is that who wants the mirror back?"

"Aye." Soul grumbled. 'Wes' who?" Maka asked, eyes lighting up with interest. Soul shifted his weight from foot to foot. Crossed his arms. "Why? You think you might know him?" he snapped sardonically, one pale brow arching. When her nostrils flared and her chin tipped higher, he sighed and said, "Wesley Evans." Maka nodded slowly, the name not really ringing any bells.

"Who and what are you?" She finally asked, eyeing him critically. "You called my name when you summoned me last eve. Tis Soul. As for the what of me, I'm but a man." He said giving her his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

"The suited man said you were a murderer." Maka accused, her voice was poison-apple sweet. "Remember him? The one you murdered."

"Och," he said indignantly, his smile fading. "I did what I had to, if not he would have killed you lass." Maka squared her shoulders, fighting the shudder she felt clawing at her spine.

"So why are you in a mirror?"

Maka brightened, as if a sudden cheerful thought had hit her. "Are you, like, a genie? Can you grant wishes?" "If you mean a djinn, even the feeblest of bampots ken they doona exist. Soul said, chuckling. No, I doona grant wishes." "Yeah, well, everyone also knows men in mirrors don't exist." Maka shot back. Soul smiled widely. He enjoyed this woman's wit. So how did you come to be in the mirror then?" Maka asked with a sigh.

"I was tricked. How else would a man end up in a mirror?" Soul scoffed as he leaned against the inside of the mirror. "How were you tricked?" " It's a verra long story lass." Maka opened her mouth to press further, but she was cut short. " It's a story I'm not ready to speak about yet."

Maka's eyes narrowed like a cat's. "That assassin man also said the mirror was an Unseelie piece. I looked up 'Unseelie' on the 'Net. It's not a classification of artifact. It's a classification of fairy"—she scoffed. "What, I ask you, am I supposed to make of that?" Soul rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Woman, we've no time to discuss such matters now. I'll answer all your questions once you've freed me and we're on the move." The lie spilled easily from his tongue. Soul fully intended to leave as quickly as possible.. right after he indulged in a delicious taste of this Maka woman. Once she freed him from the mirror, the magical barrier that blocked his Druid powers would be lifted. On solid ground again, he could harness the powers of old to his advantage. Then, this Maka woman would be vulnerable to his powers. He would use one of his favorite spells on her, the spell of obedience. This spell, granted for a short time the ability to influence anyone close enough in range to do his bidding, without question or hesitation. Oh yes, he had quite a few commands in store for the lovely lass.

Soul was a man who'd been without a woman far too long, and his hunger was immense. Contemplating the erotic orders he would give her stiffened his cock.

Bring that sweet ass over here, lass. Open that lovely mouth of yours and lick this. Turn around, woman, and let me fill my hands with those splendid breasts while I bend you over the— "Why are you staring at me like that?" Maka squeaked, her face turning pink. Jarred from the lustful stupor of his thoughts, Soul stepped back, drawing silver around his lower body to conceal the rising of his kilt. He doubted such blatant proof of his intentions would serve as persuasion to free him. "Just lost in thought lass." Soul said with a shrug. He was more than a little embarrassed at his lack of restraint and mentally kicked himself. Soul tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it must have been too sharky, because she took a step backwards.

"Why would someone want to trick you into a mirror?" Maka asked hesitantly after a moment.

"Because by binding me to it, the one who tricked me gained immortality. Each Unseelie relic offers a Dark Power of some sort. Living forever, never aging, never changing, is the Dark Glass's gift," Soul growled. His blood boiling just thinking about his brother. Bloody hell, what was it going to take to get her to let him out of the blethering glass? "Oh." She stared at him blankly for a moment. "So let me get this straight: You're telling me that not only are there people inside mirrors, and fairies somewhere busily crafting artifacts endowed with paranormal attributes, but there are also immortals skulking around my world?" Soul nearly snarled aloud with frustration. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his silvery locks, making them stand up in a messy array. "I very much doubt immortals 'skulk,' woman. And, to the best of my knowledge, the Fae haven't crafted aught in a millennia, not since they withdrew to their hidden realms. And doona be facetious. I'm merely answering your questions."

" These are Impossible answers." Maka said frowning.

"I've never seen an immortal, and I've certainly never seen a fairy." "Best hope you never do see either of them." Soul warned. "Why—?"

"Maka," he said softly, cutting her off. He said her name menacingly, infusing her name with the promise of infinite dangers. "I tire of this question game. I am going to count to three. If you let me reach that number without having begun the chant to release me, I will take back my offer. I will not so much as lift a finger when the next killer comes for you. I will sit back and watch you die a slow and heinous death. His face was serious, but Maka crossed her arms in defiance. "I'm beginning now. One. Two—"

"There's no need to get pushy," Maka snapped. "I planned to say it; I just wanted to clear a few things up first—"

Soul smiled wickedly as he continued to count.

"Thr—"

"All right, I'm saying it! I'm saying it!"

"Bloody hell, wench, finally!"