Author's Note: Y'know what I realized? I made Hunter abit....I don't know... Emotional in the last chapter ( :\) ....Ah well. I never liked him much anyway _..... Okay so...here's chapter three....Woo-HA! Gawd, isn't this oh-so exciting?!!!! No... Well, for me it is.....I'm probably making you crazy cats dance on your toes wonderin if this is going to be the slashy part or not, you dig? Well, worry not, it's hip! It's cool! I ain't jivin you yet.....Like my lingo? (o.0 ) ...yeah okay....on with the show! ^_^ ____________________________

Chapter Two: The Meeting

He wasn't necessarily panicking.

Killian took a swig of his whiskey and felt it burn the insides of his throat on its purposeful path to his stomach.

Okay...so he *was* panicking....But just a little. He heard a little nagging voice at the back of his head snort. He glared irritatedly at his silver whiskey flask. Definately needed to lay off the booze. If not to get rid of snorting voices in the back of his head then to be able to deal with his Da when the man showed up.

He put the flask away.

Then took it right back out again for another swig. Shows where his resolution went. Killian began to thump the surface of the table he was sitting at with nervous fingers as passerbys walked down the street laughing and carrying on. He couldn't fathom how they were acting as if nothing were amiss when impending doom was due here shortly.

He was seated outside of a neat, little cafe, the menu written in Scottish just outside of the door with a nice looking waitress standing beside it and giving him the once over. And if this had been normal circumstances, he would've saddled up next to the cute burnette and flirted the pants off her. Literally. But as it stood, this was *not* a normal situation. Heavy emphasis on the Not.

Killian waited a bit longer. Ciaran was still not here. Maybe he hadn't gotten Killain's message. Maybe the Goddess was finally shining down upon him. And maybe, just maybe, pigs were flying somewhere on some farmer's field and friggin' Peter Pan really *was* fighting off Hook in Never-Never Land.

Yep, he really needed to lay off the booze.

Morgan's call had come as a bit of a shock. He'd actually been sober and not planning on doing much of anything that day except lounging in his apartment and spending some off time away from the world.

// He was lying in the bed, flipping through the channels of his television set, when his cell phone rang. Flipping off the set and running to get the phone, he thought maybe it was that nice looking red head he'd met at the Pub the night before--Melissa...Miranda....Something like that.

"Hello--"

"Killian...We need to talk."

"Morgan?" he asked incredulously. And prayed that it wasn't any kind of bad news. His father being stripped of his magick had been bad enough. He hoped she hadn't discovered zombies or vampyrs infesting her brain in the shape of parasites or something....*That* would've just been beyond weird. "What're you--"

"Killian, be quiet. For a second. Please?"

And he shut up because the desperation in her voice sounded just that bad.

"I need you to do something for me," she said quietly.

"Like what?" he asked with some trepidation. There was a sigh on the other end.
'Oh, now *that* can't be good,' he thought with dread.

"I need you to get in contact with Ciaran and bring him here to England,"she said in a rush. He almost didn't hear her correctly, then her words hit him like a blow to the chest.

"Morgan," he began,"You know how he feels about you...."

"It's council business, Killian," she replied quickly.

"Oh now that just bloody changes the whole situation now, doesn't it?" he demanded. "Oh yeah, I call him right now and tell him, "Da, dear, the council'll like to see you for some bloody good reason or other. Would you be willing to come?" I don't bloody well think so!"

"Please, Killian," she begged.

"And why, pray tell, should I do a stupid thing like that?"he aske vehemently.

"Because there's trouble coming and they need his help as well your's," she replied. "It's about Calhoun Blaire, Selene's son. They have his--"

He cut her off right there. That name. That Goddess-bedamned name. He never wanted to hear it uttered again. There was too much emotion that came with it. Too many memories. He didn't need to be reminded of past history.

"Alright," he said hasitly. "Alright."//

And that was why he was sitting there, on that chair, next to that cafe, waiting for his Da. If the bleeding prat of a man would show up. It was moving on twenty minutes, and Killian was losing his temper.

"Am I fashionably late?" came the smooth, deeply accented voice that drove absolutely every women wild, and some men too. Killian turned at his father's approach. The man was dressed impleccably, dressed to kill, and he walked the walk of a tiger who knew who and exactly what was in his territory. The wind swept his brown hair and a bit of sunlight caught in his dark brown eyes.
The waitress was now checking out Ciaran.

He sat opposite Killian looking with mild interest at the cafe, its passerby and its menu. He gave the waitress a good once over too. Killian cleared his throat and Ciaran's gaze snapped to his, a predatory look coming into his eye.

"Exactly, why did you call this little meeting?" he asked, waving the waitress over. "It can't be about money. Your mother has loads, and I told you to never ask me again." He ordered a dark coffee and a danish (author's note: even evil guys gotta enjoy a good danish every once in a while ^_^).

Killian took one last swig of his whiskey before putting it away. Ciaran eyed it with a mix of interest and distaste.

"Thought you were quitting," he said mildly. Killian gave a sheepish half smile as the waitress brought over Ciaran's order. But the older McEwan didn't touch the food or the drink. He pinned Killian to his seat with an intense gaze.

"Uh,"Killian faltered. "Uh..yeah...why I called you? Um...well--"he rubbed the back of his neck nervously--"y'see...Morgan called...And--" he gave a momentary pause of fear as Ciaran's gaze intensified with anger. He blundered on--"Andshetoldmethecouncilhassummonedusforsomeofficialbusiness."

If he hadn't already been afraid, he would've been reduced to a whiny, mewling school girl by now. His father clutched the armrests of his chair in some form of restraint as his jaw clenched tightly in a way that suggested he trying very hard to get control of the emotions that were waging war inside of him. Killian quickly took advantage of that, using the only trump card he knew.

"It deals with Cal," he said quickly. Oops! Bad decision.

The silence that settled about Ciaran McEwan was one that could rival the void in space. He sat like the megalith rocks of Stonehenge, staring down at his plate coldly, unmoving, not even as another breeze came whispering across his cheek and stirring his hair. When finally he spoke, it was not in that calculated tone he'd used before, it was the tone of silk, the calm before the violence of a storm erupted from the sky. He looked up and met Killian's fearful gaze, speaking slowly,"If you think for one minute, that I'm going to step foot on council grounds again--"

"But, Da--"

"DON'T YOU CALL ME THAT!!" Ciaran roared losing his cool. He shot up from his chair, ignoring the strange looks people were giving him. "I told you never to say his name. Never. Not ever again. And you throw it in my face, and that it pertains to council business no less--"

"But, Da--"

"SHUT UP!" he said viciously, very nearly jumping over the table. He restrained himself enough to fix his shirt and glare a seething gaze at everyone around them. The people quickly got back to minding their own business. He returned his gaze to Killian, who felt that now would be a good time to find that fabled rock to crawl under. "You tell that goddamned daughter of mine, you tell that bloody Seeker and his good-for-nothing father, because I know they put her up to this, that whatever they're bloody playing at they won't get any cooperation from me."

He turned on his heel, leaving Killian to stare after him stunned.

"Well, that went well," he said as the waitress came up to him timidly with Ciaran's bill.

(^_^ 8.8 *-/ :8 _)

"I told you it wasn't going to work," Killian said matter-of-factly over the phone line. Morgan gave a frustrated sigh. "He kindly told me-- well, not kindly , he was quite rude in fact--that no he would not be helping. Basically, in any shape or form."

"Thanks for trying," she replied. It was his turn to sigh.

"Trying? Trying? I could've bloody well been sent to an early grave, thank you very much," he said sarcastically. "Next time, you call him."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Nevertheless, you still can come."

"Don't think I have much of a choice. While I don't actively like the council, I still follow something close enough to orders....I think. I'll get back to you when I'm sure." She heard him chuckle. "Now, my dear baby sister, I must get off the phone and get royally pissed. Pity you're not here, sounds like you'd do well getting pissed with me."

She chuckled herself. "No, I'm not an alcoholic."

"Alcoholic? I think I've just been insulted," Killian retorted with mock offense.

"Good bye," Morgan said with a grin. Killian beyed(sp?) her good bye and the two hung up. Morgan sat by the phone for a while before standing and going into the tiny sitting room where Hunter and Mr. Niall sat drinking tea and talking in low voices. When she emerged into the room, the talking stopped and both men looked at her expectantly.

"He said no," she replied.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Mr. Niall exclaimed suddenly shooting from his chair and nearly spilling his tea. He put the hot cup down and went to the sitting room's lone window opening out to a view of the garden.

Morgan looked at him in surprise. Hunter sighed and her gaze quickly went to him as he quickly put down his cup and rubbed his temples slowly.

"Figured on him being a prat," he said in a tired voice. "A stupid, mangy prat. I'll have to call Kennet. See what must be done about this."

"Now?" Morgan asked slightly incredulous. Hunter nodded.

"We've only got three days before the spell has to be preformed," he explained. "If Kennet says we need those two, then we've got to figure out how to obtain them."

"Killian's complying," Morgan replied defensively. Hunter shrugged.

"At least one of them has sense," Niall said from the window, glaring out at the garden. "I'm going to my room." And took his leave quickly.

"What's--"

Hunter waved the question away. "He's taking this pretty hard. " He laughed bitterly. "But he's trying to be the strong one." He stood and went to the door. "I'll be right back." And went out to make his phone call. Morgan took his seat and sipped his tea, loving the soothing warmth that filled her body, pooling in her stomach and easing away the stress of the past few hours. She could feel the power of the herbs inside of the cup, but didn't necessarily want to take the time to use her magick to discern each and every plant used. They were doing fine without her knowing who they were.

The phone call must have not taken very long because Hunter came back with a scowl etched deeply in his pale face. He looked up when stepped into the threshold of the doorway, new anger brimming his green eyes.

"What is it?" she asked standing and going to him. She took his face in her hands. "What--"

"We go to Scotland," he said simply, and turned away from her, leaving their room and going in the direction of his father's.

Well, so much for a soothing tea. ______________________________________________

Well, look, the chapter's ended...........................

Okay, so, how'd I do on Ciaran....Did I make him mean enough....I mean, emotional outbursts aside was he good enough to be a Ciaran McEwan most people could call their own....Okay, okay, so maybe HE would object to being someone's pet ( most of all mine....can we say strawberries and cream anyone? Oh Gawd!! Bad mental images! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!) But really....how'd I do? (*gives you the puppy dog eyes again*) R&R's are most definately welcome.