Becky found herself dreaming of a dark forge. She recognized one of the two men standing there from her earlier dreams. He was murmuring to the other man, around five years younger than himself. Their words were somewhat indistinguishable, although the man she recognized was tracing what looked like one of Dave's magic circles into the table's wood with the tip of his finger.
Next to him a blonde boy peered over his shoulder, looking perhaps nine or ten. Becky hadn't seen him before, but she had the feeling that he'd been the boy who had been sleeping in the room. The older of the men smiled and picked him up so he could better see. The boy laughed as he was lifted up.
The door opened to the room opened and both men and the boy turned. A woman walked inside and the unknown man bowed to her in respect. Beck knew she'd been the woman from her old dream, only her hair was pulled back now. Somehow she looked older, but it was hard to tell since it appeared that her hair had always been white.
The boy wriggled out of the older man's arms. He set him down and the boy ran to her side.
"My Lady," the younger man said, remaining with his head bowed.
"Please," she said, waving it away, "You've been friends with my husband for far too long."
"This is the first time I've met your acquaintance," he said nervously, getting up.
She smiled at him and the man flushed. The woman's husband looked at him and the man quickly looked away.
"I am aware of the political situation," he said, "But you have to understand that most of the court believes the boy to be dead."
The child at her side looked up. She shrugged.
"A necessary precaution," she said, "There are far too many out there who would seek his life. He was nearly killed when he was four."
"We know that Sir Gaunt disappeared in his search," he said tentatively.
"He attempted to kill him in my absence," the woman's husband said, "If my wife had not risked herself than England would have no future."
"Is this true?" he asked.
She drew the boy closer to her.
"Yes, but he's fine now," she said, "He grows stronger each day."
One hand ruffled the boy's hair which he playfully shoved off. Her other hand was squeezed quickly by the man and she smiled. The hand moved a little and she frowned. Turning herself around she took two steps towards where Becky was. She cocked her head and assumed a sympathetic look.
"You're in trouble, aren't you?" she asked, "Trapped? Don't worry, be strong. Like me, your time is coming."
Becky weakly opened her eyes. Horvath was leaning against the wall, deep in conversation with Mordred.
"I told you you'd need that spell," Mordred said, "Probably need it for Balthazar and the Prime too."
He laughed.
"Powerful innit she?"
"She was the best apprentice," Horvath said quietly, "She learned the quickest. She was practically his daughter."
"One more reason to hate her," said Mordred, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "But hurry up with the spancel."
Shaking his head Horvath took something thin and clear from his pocket. He ran it through his fingers, staring at the couch. Becky's eyes roved in that same direction until she saw Veronica. She was unconscious on the couch, her long hair spilling over the armrest. She had been laid there with some care.
Horvath moved towards her and Becky started to push herself upwards. Mordred looked at her and tapped Horvath on the shoulder.
"Oh dear. Put the spancel away for a minute Horvath, the Prime Paramour is up and active," he smirked.
She had just managed to get into a sitting position when Horvath's cane started to glow blue. Becky felt frightened, but only for a moment. She remembered what the woman in her dream had said and tried to be strong, but she was scared. When she had been captured the first time she had been assured that she wouldn't be hurt, not yet anyway. Now though, there was no hesitation.
"No," said Mordred.
He waved his hand and Becky felt her muscles freeze.
"What?" asked Horvath.
"We need to keep leave her alive Horvath," Mordred explained, "How else will they find out what happened? We need them to know that we came here and that this was us. Otherwise it's just...inelegant."
"Of course they'd know it was us. Who else would do this?" argued Horvath.
"Look," Mordred said impatiently, "I know this girl humiliated you at Battery Park. Kicked over a satellite. A satellite that you really should've had some protection spells over might I add."
Wincing Horvath turned away.
"And I'm all for getting those who humiliated me so I know your pain," Mordred said, stroking a thin white scar, "But remember that I was willing to make an exception. And also keep in mind that we have a tight schedule."
Horvath opened his mouth to speak, but Mordred glared at him. He shook his head once before striding over to her. One of his large hands grasped her neck. She gasped for breath and he slammed her head into the wall. Dizzy she looked up at him, still trying to steady her breathing.
"Now, Becky is it?"
She just stared at him, still scared.
"Oh, who cares? Now my esteemed overlord here tells me that we shouldn't kill you-" he said.
"I have a thing for blondes," added Mordred helpfully.
"-so I need you to listen," Horvath said, "You can listen, can't you?"
Becky glared at him.
"Good disposable little girl," he said, "Now, remember what happened with Abigail? All that we-won't-kill-you-just-yet? We're not going to do that again. You'll live this time, no threats of being fed to the cat. We're leaving you as a messenger."
"So I heard," she snapped, finding courage from somewhere, "What are you doing to Veronica?"
Horvath smirked.
"Hm. Where did she get the necklace from?" he asked, ignoring her question.
Becky struggled to make her expression look confused. She was powerless but wasn't about to let him do something to the necklace her friend cherished so much.
"She…bought it at a flea market…a month ago?" she said, hoping that she seemed like someone trying to remember something, "Why?"
"…no reason," said Horvath, "Now then we're going to go. And she's going to come with us, and she'll be staying with us. Tell that to Balthazar and young Dave that when you see them next."
She looked at him in disgust. This was too much.
"Can I ask you a question?"
He raised his eyebrow, but Becky somehow decided to press on.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked, "Never get dumped before?"
Mordred stifled a chuckle as Horvath's face turned red.
"Oh no, sorry," she heard herself say, "To get dumped you'd have to have a relationship first. Get over yourself."
Horvath smacked her before getting to his feet. Her head spun from the force of the blow.
"Watch your tongue."
"She's funny," laughed Mordred, "I quite like her."
He knelt down and his hand clamped itself around her mouth.
"I keep saying I have a thing for blondes. Perhaps I should explain. I have a thing for killing blondes. So pretty with their golden hair," he said, "It's a wonderful stimulant really. Could just watch your face turn red and then let the air drain out of your lungs slowly until you go limp all day every day. You're a meaningful death too which is a bonus."
Emboldened by the dream, and disgusted by the feel of his clammy hand on her skin, she bit him. He howled and her head hit the wall harder than anything she'd ever felt before. Her body slumped downwards. Breathing furiously Mordred released her and moved away. Becky slid down to the floor, laying still.
Blinking Horvath crouched down next to her.
"Didn't mean to do that. Zoned out for a bit as they say. Did I render the little magonisi unconscious?" asked Mordred.
Horvath paused and checked her pulse.
"No. I'm afraid you killed her."
Incredulous Mordred approached. He took her pulse and turned her head over. Blood was coming from the back of it, mingling with her hair. Sighing he got up.
"Yes, yes, I heard you! Humans are fragile, fragile!" he said, "I know I've got to learn to use a gentle hand damn it!"
He started stroking his scar.
"Yes it's understood."
He shrugged and shook his head.
"Ah well. No use crying over spilt milk," he said, "And I suppose that a dead body is as good a calling card as any, although not very explicative. Might want to leave a message too though."
Shaking his head again he walked over to the wall. His fingers traced out words on the wall. It cracked under his touch and the words showed black in the plaster. He finished up and wiped his hands on his shirt. Gesturing towards Veronica he said;
"Suitably cryptic. Now get her and let's go. We'll leave the door off the hinges for dramatic effect. And Horvath?"
"Yes?" he asked as he started to pick up Veronica.
"Careful," he said, smirking a little at Becky's, "You're all such perishable goods."