Chapter Seven

The doorbell rang in the middle of the night, the metallic chimes creeping around the sharp corners of the dim hallways, reaching out to everyone in the mansion and stirring them out of sleep.

Sarah blinked once, stretching her arms above her head, and pushed herself off her bed, disorientated. For a moment, she was convinced that she was only dreaming and that she had just imagined the ringing doorbell. That if she'd just close her eyes and allow herself to drift off again she'd find that the doorbell never really rang after all. Then her mind cleared.

It was a little late for anyone to be making a social call. Sarah frowned, rubbing at her eyes, as she plucked a white sweatshirt Circle Daybreak had provided her with off the back of a chair. Taking a moment to slip it over her tank top and plaid pajama bottoms, she padded to the door.

Sarah pulled the shiny handle cautiously, peeking out into the hallway, still blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Vaguely surprised to see a few people milling around, looking just as confused as she was, she frowned, certain now that she hadn't been dreaming. But that certainty only made way for confusion.

A short girl with a cap of white blonde hair was walking over to Sarah, her violet eyes wide, her thin lips pressed together tightly. Skimming through her memories, Sarah came up with a name. Gillian.

She smiled at the spooked girl. "What's going on?" Sarah asked, looking up and down the hallway.

Gillian shrugged, perplexed, as she tugged at a short strand of silvery hair. "I'm not really sure. Thierry never mentioned anyone coming by for a visit." She stuck her small hands into the pockets of her red flannel boxers, rocking back and forth on her heels. "We don't usually get unexpected visitors..."

Sarah's thoughts completed Gillian's sentence. Especially not in the middle of the night. She took a step out into the hallway, wrapping her arms around herself, cold even with the heavy sweatshirt, a chill making its way up her spine. "Maybe we should go downstairs and..."

Sarah started the sentence with every intention of finishing it but was cut off by the sound of glass breaking somewhere to her right. She turned quickly, so fast that she almost lost her balance. "Not again," she murmured, seeing a dark shape coming down the hallway.

Sarah grabbed hold of Gillian's arm, dragging her towards the stairs. "Lets get out of here," she said, taking the steps two at a time. She pushed the purple eyed witch in front of her and kept moving, screams of surprise and pain filling the entire mansion and echoing in the hallways.

The cries cut through the darkness like silver edged knives and it took all of Sarah's willpower not to cover her ears and stop moving all together. But, instead, she willed her legs to keep moving, to keep carrying her forward and down the winding steps.

They reached the foot of the stairs and Sarah paused, looking around in alarm. There seemed to be dark clad figures everywhere, stepping out of the blackness as though they were shadows themselves. They were attacking the people that Sarah had met only the day before, hitting and kicking them, some with weapons, some without. "I thought that Circle Daybreak's main headquarters was a secret," she whispered, her voice nearly lost in the cacophony. Sarah's dark blue eyes were wide, fright enlarging the pupils so that the black circles were large round discs.

Gillian nodded silently next to her, hands twisted together, blood draining from the knuckles. Then she shook her head as though trying to clear it before turning and sprinting back up the stairs.

"Where are you going!" Sarah called, taking a step after Gillian and nearly tripping over her flannel pants that fell over her toes.

"To find David," Gillian replied, not slowing and not looking back.

Sarah took another step but was knocked down before she could steady her footing. She tumbled to the bottom of the steps, her skull smacking against the marble floor, just as something swished over her head. Sarah picked herself up on her hands and knees looking for the person who had pushed her out of harm's way.

She caught a glimpse of dark hair and a slender frame.

Rashel

A tall man with wine colored hair was expertly wielding a heavy looking silver sword. He swung it at Rashel, narrowly missing her chest as she jumped back. Rashel landed on the edge of the last step, holding her balance precariously, and pulled something from her boot with a soft snick. She lifted it just as the man was bringing the sword down again, blocking the blow. They remained that way for uncountable seconds, muscles straining, frozen in place.

Sarah scrambled to her feet looking for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. There was nothing, except...

A wooden table stood next to the staircase, a vase made of heavy glass and painted with a colorful display of orchids and lilies standing on top of it. Stumbling towards the table, Sarah felt her hands closing around the cool glass. She lifted the vase, slightly surprised by its weight.

Sarah glanced over, seeing Rashel on the ground, on her back, her bokken raised right above her throat. The man had one knee in her chest, bearing down on Rashel's bokken with his sword.

Taking a step forward, Sarah brought the vase down - hard - with every ounce of strength in her body. She thrust forward with her weight, the vase connecting to the red haired man's skull with a soft crunch, the glass shattering in her hands. Sarah straightened, blood dripping between her tightly clenched fingers, breathing hard, looking at Rashel.

Sarah barely felt the pain of her cut and bleeding hands or noticed the thin trickle of blood that dripped into her right eye.

Rashel kicked the unconscious man off of her, sitting up while simultaneously slipping her bokken back into her boot. There was something like surprised respect in her green eyes.

Sarah held an injured hand out to her, helping Rashel to her feet.

Rashel was silent for a moment, thinking something over, before saying, "Kierlan sure knows how to pick them."

Before Sarah could ask what she meant by that, Rashel was already tugging her away. "Lets get you out of here. We have a secret escape route, a tunnel that goes under the mansion. Thierry had it built just in case of an emergency."

Sarah stumbled after Rashel, bare feet skidding across the floor. She looked around startled to realize that things were quieting down. The black clad figures had dwindled in number and the other Daybreakers had simply vanished.

Rashel caught her looking and murmured, "They're all in the tunnel. The Daybreakers anyway. It'll be all right, just keep moving." She led Sarah to what just looked like another piece of the wall with a large gilt frame picture of Salvadore's melting clocks, the same picture that she had seen in the Circle Daybreak Sanctuary.

The melting hands and numbers reflected eerily in the pale moonlight that filtered through a tall window. But before she had a chance to really study the painting, Rashel was pressing her fingers to one part of the wall, the wood paneling sliding back, revealing a dark tunnel.

Sarah took a step inside, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dimness. She blinked once, something flaring to life on her right and lighting up the tunnel. Glancing behind her, Sarah saw Rashel holding a blazing torch in one hand, the fire leaping from the top, glittering red and gold. She turned back around, walking around a sharp corner, surprised to see Blade rushing towards her.

Sarah reached out, grabbing hold of his arm. "Where are you going," she said.

Blade blinked at her then shook his head. "Annabelle's still out there, I have to go find her." He broke free of Sarah's grasp and dashed away, disappearing into the looming darkness.

Sarah set her jaw, whirling around and starting after Blade, accidentally bumping into Rashel and knocking the torch out of her hand. Feeling along the side of the tunnel with her hands, undoubtedly leaving behind bloody hand prints, Sarah heard Rashel curse from behind her.

Using her hands and sense of touch to guide her, Sarah trailed her hands along the damp and slimy walls, stumbling a bit. She stubbed her toe against something and Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, pausing for a second to absorb the pain, then continued moving.

It was so dark, thick and black like oil. She could have been walking straight off the edge of a cliff and would never have known it.

At last she reached the end of the tunnel and, as her fingers moved gently over the cool stone, Sarah heard a soft snick as the door slid open.

Sarah blinked against the sudden brightness, light dazzling her eyes for a moment. But once her vision cleared, she was relieved to be out of the dark tunnel. Then she took a step forward and was back in the mansion.

She felt her chest rise and fall in one heavy motion, her feet stuck to the floor as though heavy weights had been attached to them. Her lungs contracted painfully. Paintings and vases littered the floor, broken and crushed, the pieces scattered and trampled. A few still bodies showed up as dark rumpled shadows in the dim lighting but Sarah was able to make out a distinct feature on about every other body.

Like the pale golden hair on one still form, the deep green jade bracelet on another, long silver tipped nails on a third.

Sarah's entire body stiffened, her nostrils flaring, the whites of her eyes widening. She thought she was going to be sick, then she swallowed hard. A sob welled up in her throat and she pressed a blood soaked hand to her mouth, feeling the slick wetness meet her lips.

And then she started crying. It was soft at first, the tears dripping down her cheeks with determined certainty. And her shoulders shook only a little. But after a moment, Sarah was gasping for breath, the hot salty tears stinging her throat, falling from her eyes with reckless abandon, mixing with the blood, the watery red mixture dripping down her neck, staining her white sweatshirt.

Sarah fell to her knees, her legs giving out on her at last. She hunched over, her hands pressing into the floor, trying, uselessly, to steady herself as the entire world rocked and swayed around her.

And then, as hands clasped around her shoulders, Sarah shrieked, trying to fling her attacker off. She tore at his hands with her nails, sinking into his flesh with one vicious slash, drawing blood.

"Let go," she screamed, shaking her head, and entire body, from side to side. But his grip was too strong and, at last, her body gave up and her struggles subsided. Sarah felt the tears retreat back into her eyes, resigning herself to her own death, her eyes shutting, her breath releasing in a soft whoosh.

"Sarah, come on wake up."

The voice, that voice, was familiar. She knew it.

Sarah pried one eye open, then the other, seeing Kierlan looking at her, his dark, bottomless eyes opened wide in fear. "Goddess, Sarah, what happened," he choked out, gesturing to the mess around them, the pale skin on his cheeks stretched tightly over sharp bones. Kierlan reached out, brushing damp, bloody hair back from Sarah's face. "Sarah, *what* happened?"

Sarah shut her eyes again, tears slipping out from behind closed eyelids. "I don't know," she whispered. "There were so many of them... so many. And Rashel helped me out and then Blade ran back and... Kierlan, there's so many..."

"Shh," he said, rocking her back and forth, holding her to him. "I've got you now, you're all right. I've got you." Kierlan shut his eyes for a moment too, pain clawing at his heart. He had almost lost her; if he had been any later...

Kierlan couldn't bear to think of that option. He simply couldn't have been too late.

Sarah let out a shuddering breath. "Kierlan, I have to find Blade."

Kierlan stiffened, but he didn't release his hold on Sarah. "All right. I'll help you find him."

"I'm right here," Blade said, stepping forward, his shiny blonde hair a beacon of light in the darkness. "I can't find my sister anywhere."

Kierlan narrowed his eyes, looking up at the Lamia. And then he stood, cradling Sarah in his arms. "I think right now we need to worry about getting Sarah out of here more than anything else."

Blade's lips tightened. "You of all people shouldn't be telling me what to do," he snapped. He stepped forward, making a move to snatch Sarah from Kierlan's arms but Kierlan took a step back, out of reach. "What the hell do you think you're doing, let me have her. *I'm* her soulmate, not you," Blade said, voice shaking with uncharacteristic anger.

In Kierlan's arms, Sarah started crying in earnest again. "Oh please," she said, her voice hushed and laced with thick tears. "Please not now, please."

Blade looked at her, his hazel eyes softening, the anger of betrayal draining from his face. "OK, lets go."
"I know where everyone else will be heading," Kierlan said, looking at Blade, meeting his eyes directly, a hollow feeling filling the pit of his stomach. "I'll take you both there."

Blade started to nod, moving to let Kierlan by, when a soft chuckle made its way around the spacious room.

"No one is going anywhere," a quiet voice said, splitting the darkness that had seemed like a protective cover for the past few minutes. But the voice, though quiet, was undeniably angry. "I don't like when things don't work out right and I've had just about enough of chasing you around."

Sarah bit down on her lip, hiding her face in Kierlan's chest as Kierlan turned to face the direction of the voice. Blade stepped up beside him, his eyes searching the room but, even with his supernatural vision, he couldn't make anything out.

After a few moments, while Kierlan's and Blade's ragged breaths synchronized, a figure dressed in a black cloak that covered its face appeared, standing at the foot of the stairs.

"Is it that difficult to just be *caught.*" A hand lifted and a ball of orange flame exploded outward, shattering a mirror above Blade, Sarah, and Kierlan's heads.

The figure pulled the hood of the cloak down with one tug, revealing a girl with dark golden hair that spilled over her shoulders in waves and yellow, cat-like eyes. Those eyes were narrowed, slitted. The girl smiled at them, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement. "Not that I haven't had fun with this little game," she continued. "But even the best things have to come to an end."

She bowed her head for a moment as though she were puzzling something over, then laughed softly, lifting her face again.

"Who are you," Kierlan said, his voice low, dangerous.

"My name's Roseclear. I'm sure you've heard of me." She smiled again, tilting her head to the side. "I hope so anyway. Although, with these pesky bouts of NightWorlders finding soulmates in vermin, I'm beginning to doubt the things your elders
teach you."

Roseclear looked first at Kierlan, then at Blade, her golden gaze holding them both still. "But you should at least know of me. I am, after all, related to both of you."