Disclaimer: All the Nightworld concepts, ideas, names, basically anything you recognize belongs to L.J. Smith. I've just created a few characters to stick into the Nightworld.

To my two favourite reviewers: You guys are the best. Sorry this chapter wasn't exactly timely but considering how long it usually takes me I think three weeks is pretty good.

Bex Drake : grins I didn't mean to imply you should stop predicting what's going to happen - only that I can't verify it one way or another. (I'm not good with the cryptic author stuff – if I knew where this story was going I probably would have blurted it all out by now) And it's interesting to hear what other people think might be coming. As for the Thorne fanclub – feel free to start one Can I be VP?

Amber-rules: looks back at last chapter Does that really count as a cliff hanger? Because I've done a mental plot overhaul since the last chapter and now have even less of a clue than before as to what's going on with the memory-less vampire so I chose not to address it in this chapter. looks sheepish And I know it wasn't exactly a quick update, but I'll get there one day :-)

A/N: My first L.J. Smith fanfic so all thoughts would be truly, madly appreciated.

Rated PG-13

Yesterdays: Chapter 5

Sybil relaxed for the first time since she stepped into the office. This part she could handle. Hours of going over the words she was about to say had left them etched in her brain. She looked straight into those purple eyes and told a small piece of the truth. "I've been with Circle Daybreak." She could afford to give him that, as she suspected he already knew. It was her best shot – tell enough truths to cover the lie. It was her only shot.

He studied her for a minute before asking, "For how long?"

A fraction of a hesitation before the witch answered. Anyone else would have missed it. But, then he wasn't anyone else. "Since I left here."

"But I couldn't stay there any longer. I couldn't bear it." Sybil got up and paced, raking a hand through her hair. She let the emotion colour her voice as she told him another truth, "They all have soulmates. And they're so happy together. So, blissfully, nauseatingly happy. And . . . I miss that." Was it her imagination or were his eyes softening a bit?

She pressed on. "We had that once too, remember?" He didn't answer so she asked again, "Remember?"

"Yes." That was it. One syllable. Nothing in his voice to let her know what he was thinking. She envied him his control, and hated him for it. She was pouring her soul into his hands - the least he could do was acknowledge it.

"We could have that again."

"Could we?" The words were tinged with a dark amusement she didn't understand.

"Of course," she murmered. She came to a standstill in front of his desk. "I forgive you and. . ."

His laughter cut through her sentence and put her on edge. There was very little humour in it.

"You forgive me?" Thorne's eyes flashed ten shades of violent. "You're the one that left."

She stared at him in shock. He had ripped her to shreds. Hand delivered her to the monsters. Of course she'd left! Surely he didn't expect an apology.

But he carried on, blandly, oblivious to her growing anger. "Not that it was a great loss, mind you, but did you have to take Owen with you? I'm having a devil of a time replacing him. Have to do all the work myself now." He shook his head sadly, "Can't find anyone trustworthy these days."

"That's rich, coming from you." She tried to stop herself, but could no more have stopped the tide. "Do you even know what the word trustworthy means?"

"Of course I do," the made vampire said scornfully. "It means not running off with your soulmate's cousin, for starters."

Sybil glared at him as she all but shrieked, "Or how about not giving your soulmate to Hunter Redfern to be tortured?"

His mouth turned up in amusement. "Forgiven me have you?"

And she realized with a sinking feeling that he'd once again manoeuvred her right where he wanted.

"Why are you really here?"



Damaris was in a meeting, chewing out one of her minions, er, employees when Owen stormed in. She shrank back into her seat as 200 pounds of muscle stalked towards her but the witch just slammed a torn sheet of paper down on her desk. "Care to explain this?" His voice was silky soft, far more frightening than had he been shouting.

Damaris glanced down at the note and blanched. She couldn't look at Owen – his rage surrounded him, she could smell it, filling the room with a sharp pungent odour. She squinted past him and realized her minion had scuttled away. Disloyal git.

"Owen," she spoke softly, but that only served to incense him further, breaking his tenuous hold on control.

"How could you?" the witch glowered. "Damn it Damaris, I know you don't like her, but to send her off to be killed. . ."

She glared back at him. "This has nothing to do with that." Privately, she was surprised he'd noticed - she hadn't thought anyone knew of her dislike for the witch girl. "I didn't give the order – it came straight from the top."

Owen shook his head in denial. "No," he said softly. "Thierry would never do something so stupid."

But I would? Damaris struggled not to take offence, and lost. All she said was, "You know how they feel about soulmates."

The witch gave a bitter laugh. "I know more than that. I know how Thorne feels about his soulmate." He shook his head. "They should have sent me. They should have waited until I got back."

Damaris stared at him, her mind working furiously. She really ought to have another look through his file. But, first she needed him to leave. "I'll let you know when we hear from them."

He took the hint and headed out. She waited until he reached the door before calling out.

"Hey, Owen - welcome back."



A/N: Please don't forget to review! I have a shrine going for all you wonderful people who let me know what you think.