Okay, I have to admit, I was a little upset when I saw the lack of any reviews for chapter five, which I worked really hard on. It's not that I want reviews for the sake of having reviews, per se, but it's the feedback that I really want to hear. I want to know if the battle scenes are convincing and if the characterizations are okay, or if you feel that there's not enough of a certain thing. Hearing the reviewer's input really helps me out fill in any missing pieces of the story or fix up a plot hole that I may have left. Or maybe it's just that Fragments has turned me into a reviewholic. (Sighs and shakes head at my own hypocritism . . . is that even a word?) So, please do me a favor and review.

But most importantly, enjoy the long chapter!

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Chris nodded slowly, his mind sluggish as he thought back to that day. He hadn't seen it, how Melinda died . . . but he had felt it in every core of his being. He felt Excalibur plunging through his gut, piercing his insides. Chris's lungs had strained, struggling to breathe as a lung was punctured when the blade tipped upwards, squirming inside Melinda's body.

And suddenly, it was all over. He could feel Melinda any more, and he felt empty. But at least she wasn't in pain anymore. She was Up There with Aunt Phoebe, Aunt Paige, and . . . Mom.

Chris swallowed the lump in his throat forcibly, struggling with his emotions. Bianca sat there quietly on the stone bench, her shoulder leaning slightly on the angel statue, watching the leader of the Resistance, just a kid, really, fresh out of college in the old, righted world, deal with the death of his cousin. Melinda had been deranged and sadistic in the times that Bianca had to be in her company, but she was willing to bet that she wasn't always like that. Chris had told her what happened after he left her to the whitelighters and went back to get Penelope. It seems that Melinda had an epiphany right before she was murdered.

Bianca knew that Chris wasn't mourning for the monster that inhabited Melinda's soul for years; he was grieving for the little kid he remembered from his childhood, for the Halliwell that emerged at the very end.

"Thanks," Chris said finally, his voice sounding thick.

"No problem," Bianca replied, her voice surprisingly soft and gentle. Her usual tone was one of sarcasm or had a hard edge and coldness to it.

Chris looked up at her, sighing. He was trying really hard to forget Melinda's death and get to what he had originally called Bianca there for. He'd intended to thank her for saving his life back at the Manor, risking her cover and her existence to save him. She'd almost died, too. The whitelighters had told Chris later that if Bianca had been taken to them any later, she may not have made it.

He really appreciated what she'd done for him, even if she did have an ulterior motive.

"Listen, Bianca . . . thanks, for jumping in there and saving me from . . . from my brother." He couldn't say his name, he just couldn't.

She waved her hand absently as if dismissing his thanks. "It's nothing. What, you really think I'd just let you die?"

Chris raised an eyebrow in surprise at this nonchalant reaction. Facing death really wasn't a big deal for an assassin, he supposed. She must face it every time she has a job to finish.

"Well, you didn't have to help me, but you did, and damn well saved my life, so I'm grateful, whether you like it or not." Chris said gruffly, unsure why he was so irritated at her all of a sudden. Maybe it was just because of how cold and detached she sounded.

Bianca was startled by this honest retort. "I'm sorry," she apologized warily, finding herself in a position where she didn't know what she was trying to say. Damn it, why was her tongue stuck in her throat all of a sudden?

She was starting to feel frustrated with how tongue tied she was becoming around Chris.

Don't get attached, Bianca, they'll only break your heart. Use 'em and lose 'em.

That was Bianca's mother's more simplistic explanation for one of the Phoenix Coven's top rules: no men. There were rare male Phoenix assassins, powerful witches who converted to the Phoenix Coven, although they'd never grace the blood red birthmark on their arms. But men were rare in the family of Phoenixes; the women always gave birth to girls, never boys, and thus the Phoenix women were always independent, unattached or held down by their male counterparts. When the time comes, most of the assassins would have a union with a man in order to keep the bloodline flowing into the next generation, but always disappeared after the child was conceived.

The bloodline has been mixing as of recently, though. Preferably, they had a union with a male witch, but times have been changing, and Bianca has a few part demon cousins. People like Bianca, who was half mortal, was rare. Phoenixes liked power, and to be half powerless, normal, was, in their opinion, a handicap.

Bianca proved them wrong. She'd worked harder than any of her Phoenix cousins, making up for her having fewer powers by beating them out in speed, strength, and cunning. She was fine with what she had now; after all, Bianca could still shimmer and produce energy balls. Bianca had no need for fancy powers like flame throwing. It would merely slow her down.

It was ironic; in the end, Bianca felt like she was the only true Phoenix left in the San Francisco Coven. Everyone else had become a coward, and she was the only one who was willing to risk her own life to right the world, and gain their sense of independence again.

Bianca's mother confused her, though. Well, they always were what were considered the black sheep of the family. Lynn hadn't just had a union with Bianca's father, but she had married him! It was a very strange occurrence, one alien to the fierce Phoenix Coven. It turns out that Lynn hadn't told her father of their Phoenix origins, and opted to try and live a normal life, one free of her bounty hunting destiny.

Closing her eyes, Bianca painfully recalled the memory of when everything went wrong, and they were forced to accept their destiny as Phoenixes.

"Lynn, I'm home!" Lionel called from the doorway. A pale, elegant hand poked out from the kitchen, briskly waving at him to tell him that his wife had heard.

He scanned the room, searching for his daughter. "Bianca . . . where are you?"

From out of nowhere, two strong arms clung onto his legs tightly. Lionel looked down to see bright grey eyes staring up at him, some brown locks falling onto her face. Smiling widely, Bianca resisted giggling. She'd seen her Daddy come in from the corner of the room and shimmered next to him. Mommy said she shouldn't shimmer in front of Daddy, but Bianca couldn't resist surprising him, just this once.

She knew the weird red birthmark on her arm puzzled Daddy, and it confused Bianca too; she never really knew what it meant, but her Mommy had said it was a birthmark that strangely seemed to be passed down a lot in Mommy's family.

With a click, Lionel opened his briefcase and took out a wrapped box. Bianca's eyes widened when she saw it, releasing her dad's legs.

Smiling, Lionel handed the box to Bianca. "Happy birthday, Bianca. I can't believe you're four now, you're so big!"

"Thanks, Daddy," she answered, gently ripping off the wrapping. To her delight, she opened the box to find a cute teddy bear inside. "Thank you Daddy!"

"What are you going to call him? Every teddy bear needs a name," Lionel said, eyes twinkling.

Bianca thought for a moment. "Teddy."

Laughing at the simplicity of the name, Lionel kneeled down so he was looking face to face with his daughter and Teddy. "Why don't we go see what your mother's doing in the kitchen, shall we?"

Bianca nodded enthusiastically, having had to suffer by enduring the sweet scents coming from the kitchen but being thus unable to enter and actually see her birthday cake. Just as she and her father were about to make their way to the kitchen, there was a loud bang and sounds of something smashing hard on the floor.

"Lynn!" Her father rushed to the kitchen immediately, Bianca right behind him. They entered the kitchen area to see Lynn sporting a bleeding cut on her right cheek, a sharp knife in hand. But she was not alone. An elderly but strong looking woman, whose very presence radiated of youth and power, stood opposite Lynn, a strange looking dagger in her hand, poised and ready to strike.

"Who're you?" Lionel demanded sharply, examining the scene, and looking bewildered as to how that woman could have gotten into the house so suddenly. Bianca squirmed, uncomfortable, because for some reason, that woman looked familiar, and she had a funny feeling that that woman could shimmer . . . just like Bianca.

The woman spared a dismissive glace at Lionel, not bothering to answer his question, but her eyes lingered on Bianca. "So . . ." she said softly, her voice cold and hard, "I see you've at least upheld one part of your Phoenix duties, Lynn, although it's disgusting to see how easily you've tossed your destiny away like a piece of garbage, living amongst normality."

"Phoenix? Lynn, what is she talking about?" Lionel asked, eyes wildly flitting from the woman to his wife, utterly confused at what was going on.

"Lionel . . . get Bianca out of the house. Now!" she barked fiercely, scaring Bianca. Mommy was never this angry, never . . .

The woman laughed. "Really, Lynn, do you really think I'd let them go? This is no longer just between me and you, now . . . it concerns the little one as well," she said, inclining her head at Bianca, who tried to hide herself behind her father. She was more scared then she had ever been in her life. This woman was capable of hurting her Mommy, she knew it; she could feel it.

"What's this about Bianca? What is going on?" Lionel asked stubbornly, determined to get answers.

Laughing again, this time more coldly, the stranger decided to finally answer his questions. "You do not know me, nor should you ever know me. Lynn has abandoned our Phoenix Coven to live as a normal person would does, thus dishonoring me, her mother."

Lynn's face was still expressionless, but a flash of shame flickered in her eyes.

"So, what are you, some kind of cult?" Lionel demanded, clutching Bianca's shoulder even harder. "You coming to sacrifice my daughter or something? Well, you can forget it; you'll never lay a hand on her!"

Bianca stared with widened eyes at her furious father, frozen mother, and smiling grandmother. "I don't want to go," she squeaked, finding her courage and her voice at last. Her voice grew stronger when she saw the slight twitch of a proud smile on the corner of her mother's lips, "I'm not leaving with you!"

To her surprise, instead of intimidating the woman, she actually amused her. "Well, at least you have taught her courage, Lynn, I'll give you that. Although I don't know how a half-blood will cope with the rest of her much more powerful cousins. You may as well have condemned her by marrying this mortal, Lynn."

"Mortal? What are you talking about, half-blood? What powers?" Lionel asked, again reflecting exactly what Bianca was wondering in her mind.

Her grandmother's lips curled cruelly, as if she was about to enjoy delivering some shocking news. "Half-blood, mortal, think it out; the girl is only half magical, and thus only possesses a certain limited amount of powers, whereas her cousins will have more powers to their disposal."

"M –magical?" Lionel stuttered, eyebrows raised skeptically, "As in wizards and all that?"

"Yes," Lynn's mother confirmed, "Your wife has run away from her destiny, a destiny that your daughter shares; her duty from birth to the Phoenix Coven is evident in the Phoenix birthmark on her arm . . . you have noticed that, haven't you?"

Lionel looked angry as he snapped, "Of course I've noticed."

"Then you'll understand that as long as you and Lynn wish to stay together, I'll be taking Bianca with me."

"WHAT?" Both Lynn and Lionel yelled, appalled at this thought.

"Mother, no!" Lynn half pleaded, eyes desperate. Bianca could feel her courage waning. Bianca had always been good at reading people, and she could see that this woman would not leave until she got what she came for.

Bianca's grandmother looked at the enraged parents and frightened child, standing her ground. She scrutinized Lionel and could see that he still didn't believe in magic, that he believed her to be part of some cult.

"You asked me what I meant by powers," she said softly. Then, she raised her hand and conjured an energy ball.

Lionel stared at it, looking torn. He whirled around to Lynn, face red as he demanded, "Is this true? Are you really . . . magical?"

Lynn looked defeated, not looking at Lionel as she whispered, "Yes. I'm a witch."

"It's either stay together, and we'll never bother you again –maybe, and I get Bianca, or both Lynn and Bianca come with me. But believe me, Lynn; it'd be easier for her if her mother came with her. I think I'll leave you to decide. But don't try to leave, Lynn, dear –I'll be back." The old lady's body seemed to distort for a moment, and she was gone.

The instant that she was gone, Lynn said, "Hurry, we have to pack. I can shimmer us somewhere, anywhere, anywhere away from her."

Lionel looked angry; Bianca could feel her Daddy's legs shaking slightly. "You were a . . . a witch, and you never told me!"

Lynn finally whirled around to face Lionel, her eyes flashing fiercely, "I was trying to escape that life, and to do so, I had to erase anything from that old life!"

"Well it didn't work, did it? She found you, didn't she? And now she's going to take Bianca away!"

"Stop yelling!"

Husband and wife turned around in surprise at the unexpected interruption. Bianca had tears in her eyes as she clutched her new teddy bear close to her chest. "I don't want to leave with that lady; I don't want you to fight!"

Lionel looked conflicted for a moment, but, apparently making up his mind, grabbed Bianca's arm tightly. "C'mon, Bianca, we're leaving!"

"Where the helldo you think you're doing?" Lynn demanded, sounding panicked. "This is what my mother wants; we can't separate!"

Lionel whirled around to Lynn. "No. It's you she wants, and it's you she'll get. Not Bianca. God, I can't believe I've been married to you for seven years and didn't know you were a witch." He spoke with disgust and contempt in his voice as he spat out the word "witch".

"So, despite how much I love you, despite all that I've done to erase the threads of the past, you will steal away my daughter just because I am different, special? Bianca is going to be the same, you know."

Lionel's face was contorted as he sneered, "I can suppress that side, somehow."

Her father tugged on her elbow even harder, but Bianca did her best to stay in the same spot. She did not want to leave her Mommy! She saw Mommy's face, how heart broken she looked and felt a flutter of anger at her father. Why was he so determined to make Mommy sad?

Then, Lynn's face morphed into one of determination. Raising her hand, palm up, she conjured an energy ball, just like her mother had. "I used to be a bounty hunter, Lionel, one of the best assassins in the Underworld . . . and I will not hesitate to use my powers again if you try to forcibly take Bianca from me." To Bianca, Mommy's voice was associated with warmth and safety. However, it had taken an icy tone that had resonated in her grandmother's speech.

At first, as Lionel grabbed Bianca's wrists, he'd seemed confident and determined. Now, his eyes were uncertain, and resentment blazed in his eyes.

It was then, watching her parents gazing at each other with distrust and possibly hatred, attitude towards each other completely altered from just an hour ago, when Bianca realized that their marriage was going down the toilet, all because of the Phoenixes.

There was yelling, screaming, and threats ringing in the air. Bianca was huddled in the corner, clutching on to Teddy for dear life, or perhaps, for dear sanity. The only comfort she had in this situation was that Mommy hadn't actually made good on her threat and used her powers on Daddy. Bianca didn't want to see Mommy or Daddy hurt.

"So that's it?" Lynn said quietly, her usually strong voice cracking in emotional agony, "After everything, it will end like this?"

"I guess so," Lionel answered stiffly, "C'mon, Bianca." She realized that Daddy knew that Mommy would never hurt him, that he was taking advantage of Mommy's love for him to make sure of their safe passage.

But Bianca could feel a ripple of power in the air. Magic. She knew Mommy wasn't going to give her up that easily.

"If it must be this way," Lynn said calmly and coldly, as though she had shut off all that made her Mommy, "then so be it."

Lionel turned around, confused at the sudden change in demeanor. Lynn had completely changed from the woman who had been just standing before him. Strength emulated from her, and her eyes were of cold determination.

Before Lionel could speak, she chanted:

Memories of us shall wash away

No matter how hard I wish they could stay

Forget Bianca and I, Phoenixes and all

No more will you remember after your fall

Suddenly, Lionel crumpled to the floor. Bianca shrieked in fright, dropping Daddy's hand immediately. "You've never told me about that, Mommy," Bianca whispered, awed and scared at the same time.

"It's called spell casting. It's a lost art in the Phoenix Coven, though other witches use it often. Learning the art, practicing it, has made me even more of the black sheep of the Coven." Lynn explained softly, back to being Mommy.

Bianca took one more glance at her father, and stared into the eyes of her mother. She realized that she would have more in common, more to learn, from her mother than her father. It's not like it would matter anyway; if the spell worked, her Daddy would no longer remember her.

"Where are we going, Mommy?" Bianca asked, grasping Teddy even tighter.

Lynn paused for a moment before answering, kneeling down so that she was level with Bianca, and held her tiny hands in hers. "We're going back with Grandma, with all the other Phoenixes. There, we'll get to be ourselves, and you don't have to hide your birthmark anymore, and we'll be our own people, not tied down to anyone other than each other, and our cousins in the Coven."

"So was Daddy tying you down? Was I tying you down?"

For a while, Lynn did not answer. "No. He wasn't. I loved him, and he loved me, but in the end, when it really mattered, he betrayed me, and I will never forget that. And you," she smiled as she stared into Bianca's bright grey eyes, "You are my sunshine." Bianca wrinkled her nose at what she considered to be a childish nickname, but that only made Lynn smile more widely. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Bianca, and I really think that going back is the right thing for us to do."

"But . . . weren't you trying to get away from that place?" Bianca asked. She still wasn't sure about this. The Phoenixes had split her parents apart!

"Yes, I was. But I was trying to run away from who I was, who you are. I want to stop running, for both our sakes. I think it'll be better this way."

Bianca smiled bravely, for her mother. She trusted her, despite her reserves about the Coven, and quietly packed her things, pausing occasionally to make sure that Teddy was comfortable in her suitcase. Bianca took one last look at her still unconscious father, tried to memorize every detail of his appearance, and had her last look of her childhood home before her mother shimmered them away . . . to the Phoenixes.

"Bianca? Bianca?"

Shaking herself mentally out of her reminiscence, Bianca smiled apologetically. "Sorry, what?"

Chris was looking at her in slight confusion. "Are you okay? It looked like you zoned out there for a minute." A hint of a sly, teasing smile danced on his lips. "Am I that boring?"

Bianca chuckled, despite herself. "Yeah, actually. Did it really take you this long to notice?"

Looking slightly surprised at Bianca's casual retort, Chris answered. "Yep. I'm slow at these kind of things. Not enough practice; nope, all my brainpower is dedicated to planning, calculations, and strategy. There's absolutely no room for common sense in there." He tapped his head with his finger.

Amused at Chris's ability to joke while he was still reeling from the death of his cousin, Bianca respected Chris even more. He knew there were others depending on him to be the leader, and he gracefully handled the grief, but still staying strong for the morale of the others at the same time.

Chris reminded Bianca of her mother.

Maybe that's why she was feeling . . . almost friendly towards him. At first, she was using him as a means to an end, helping him only to end Wyatt's wretched tyranny. But now, now she wasn't sure what she was doing. If Bianca didn't know any better, she'd think that she was falling for Chris or something.

But she knew that was impossible. After all, hadn't it been drilled into her mind a million times that she couldn't trust men?

Don't get attached, Bianca, they'll only break your heart. Use 'em and lose 'em.

Her mother had gotten attached though; she'd been married to Bianca's dad for seven years! And they'd been happy, hadn't they? Yeah, Bianca could still recall, after all these years, the fresh smell of her dad's suits when he came home, and the delicious scent of a home-cooked meal. She remembered how her mother and father treated each other so lovingly, so honestly. But maybe Lynn's lack of honesty in telling him of her true nature was what split them.

But they had been happy.

Bianca shook herself again mentally. Why was she thinking these thoughts? This frustrated her beyond reason, and it bugged her even more that she wasn't able to control what she was feeling. Bianca was an expert at control and restraint, but she supposed that living around virtually all women for most of her life didn't prepare her for these hormones.

God, she sounded like a freaking teenager.

"What are you talking about? You can't leave now! It's too dangerous!"

"No, here is where it's dangerous! Wyatt will find us here, I know it! It's only a matter of time . . . I'm going to get out of the city as soon as possible . . ." the girl murmured as she pushed past her brother. Pausing, she glanced back at him hopefully. "Will you come too? It'd be . . . less lonely . . . if you came."

Brian frowned. "No. My duty and the safest place for you is here, within the Resistance."

Julia shook her head furiously. "No, no, no, Brian, don't you see? He will find us, and he'll kill us all!"

"He won't," he insisted, "We have Chris and Penelope, as well as a population of fighters to protect us. You know as much as I do that the magical protection around us is strong; Wyatt hasn't been able to break through before."

Julia's eyes were wild with fear as she grabbed her brother's shirt collar, pulling him towards her in urgency. "It doesn't matter if we have Chris and Penelope! Didn't you hear? He killed Melinda Halliwell, his cousin! What's to stop him from murdering his brother and other cousin, along with us? There's no way I'm going to die helplessly or be forced to work in his sweatshops. I won't!"

Gently prying her hands off of him, Brian looked closely at her and hoped he could at least use her pride against her to make her stay. "You coward."

"What?" she asked, mouth opened in indignation.

"So if Wyatt attacks us, like you're so sure he will, where will you be? Are you really going to leave us when we are for sure going to die? While we fight to the death, are you going to cowardly hide in the corner of some godforsaken city? If he does find us, we're going to fight tooth and nail. Hiding won't win this war. C'mon, Julia, you're my sister. Don't you think I want you to be safe? I promise you, the Resistance is the safest place right now, unless you want to go to another branch, in a different city."

She was quiet for a moment, not meeting Brian's eyes. "I'm leaving."

Brian sighed and released his hold on her. "If that's what you really want, I can't stop you." He pointed over in the direction of their potion store. "You'd better get some potions for your trip."

Julia's lip trembled at her brother' cold voice. "B-Brian . . ."

"What? You're abandoning us, what do you want me to say?" he snapped harshly.

A tear fell from Julia's eye onto her face. "Good luck," she muttered before setting off towards the potion supply, her shoulders slightly hunched in shame.

Brian watched her retreating back go, and heard a familiar voice ask softly, "You okay?"

He turned around to see Chris watching him with pitying eyes. "Yeah."

Chris looked skeptical; he didn't believe him. But he let it go. "C'mon, we need to discuss strategy . . ."

Brian took one last look at his sister and followed the leader of the Resistance.

Four Days Later . . .

"Chris!" Andrea shouted at the wall urgently. Oh god, oh god, this was bad. They thought something like this could happen, but they were hoping . . . "Christopher Halliwell!"

Chimes filled the air as Chris materialized, worry evident on his face, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Andrea pointed to the athame Bianca had given Chris, the blade now chalk black with bits of silver metal poking through in the form of five haunting, handwritten words:

The witch burnings has begun.

Wyatt smiled in satisfaction as the demons dragged in the struggling witch the probes had picked up earlier. The girl looked ragged and wounded; blood fell from a gash on her forehead. Wyatt was surprised that she had managed to stay conscious for this long.

"Leave us," he instructed coldly. His demons bowed reverently and shimmered out.

Not bothering with pleasantries, Wyatt grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair roughly, her shrieks of pain echoing in the room. Yanking clumps of red hair, he forced her to stand up eye level with him.

"Let me go!" she shrieked, struggling furiously in Wyatt's grasp.

"Who are you?" he asked, his tone indicating that lies will not be tolerated. "Are you a part of the Resistance my brother leads?"

But she didn't answer either question, merely whimpering, "I don't want to die . . . please let me go . . ."

Wyatt sighed. Sometimes being extremely intimidating can be a major pain in the ass. Oh well, looks like he'll have to resort to magic.

Girl who refuses to speak

Whose magic is undoubtedly weak

Open your mouth and tell me

What I need to know truthfully, so mote it be

Grimacing slightly at the spell he had just made up on the spot, which was quite rough around the edges, Wyatt waited as he saw something change in the girl's eyes, which now looked quite dull. It didn't matter if the spell was a little awkward, as long as it works . . .

"What's your name?" Wyatt demanded.

"Julia Watson," she answered monotonously.

Wyatt nodded, pleased that the spell appeared to be working. "Do you work for the Resistance?"

"No."

Frowning, Wyatt decided to try making his question more specific. "Have you been in the company of the Resistance? If so, how long?"

"Yes, ever since it was formed."

"Why weren't you in the base?" Wyatt asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

Julia's eyes seemed to flicker a bit at this question, and she hesitated before answering.

"Answer me now!" Wyatt shouted, smug authority resounding in his voice.

The girl flinched before answering drearily, "I ran away; I was scared I was going to die when you attack."

Wyatt had smirk at the irony in her statement. He knew exactly then what he was going to do with the girl. Wyatt was furious about before, when dear Christopher and Penelope stormed the Manor, his Manor, and slipped through his fingertips again, again! And they made him so displeased with Melinda that he killed her! He knew that a message needed to be sent; they needed to be warned of the consequences to defying Wyatt will be.

On Julia a spell was just cast

Release her now, no longer last

Julia blinked furiously and she looked dazed for a moment. Then, she seemed to realize where she was, and her eyes widened in fear. She began struggling in Wyatt's grasp again. He held her tightly, and she finally calmed down, accepting defeat.

"What are you going to do with me?" she whispered.

"I'm going to burn you at the stake." Wyatt replied calmly.

Her eyes widened and she screamed, "NO!" The ground around her began to shake uncontrollably.

Wyatt was intrigued by this power, but he would not allow it to stop him. Using his telekinesis, he shoved Julia hard into the wall, causing dust to shake from the ceiling. The earth's tremble instantly stopped.

"Looks like we'll have to bind your powers before we burn you . . . it'd be a damper on the burning, wouldn't it?" Wyatt asked cheerfully, a hint of malice underlining his tone.

Julia, blood dripping down from her forehead, didn't answer as she fell into unconsciousness.

After what seemed like an eternity later, Julia groggily awoke, sensing instantly that something was wrong.

Her vision, at first blurred, began to clear, and the minute it did, she wished she was still enveloped in the darkness behind her eyelids.

In front of her, she could see that she was in the middle of a previously forlorn street, now filled with the buzz of demons swarming around, adding wood and hay to the stack beneath her feet. Tears of defeat, tears of overwhelming fear ran down her face as she choked back sobs. Julia had abandoned the Resistance out of fear of being killed by Wyatt . . .how ironic. If she had been killed in a raid on the Resistance, her death would most likely be quick at the very least.

Now, her death would be slow, gradual, and agonized.

She only wished that she could somehow fall back into blissful unconsciousness and be awakened only as her spirit floated up to all those others who had died in this war, the war she'd been trying to run away from.

Instead, she'd found herself the ornament of Wyatt's warning to his rebellious brother and cousin. If Julia still had the ability to, she would have laughed at the big, fat irony of it all.

Julia wanted so desperately to close her eyes, turn away from the spark that would initiate her grisly demise. A spark of flames from a tiny match has never been so interesting before. Unable to close her eyes, Julia instead set her eyes on the tiny flame, blossoming as it spread to wood and hay, the small fire beginning to grow bigger and bigger and closer and closer to her. She was determined that she wouldn't scream; no, she wouldn't give that monster the satisfaction.

On her the blame for her death lies, and she would brave it.

The flames were coming closer to her, so uncomfortably close . . . tiny beads of sweat ran down her face as she tried to move her body as far back as she could, trying desperately to hold on to the seconds of life that she had left. For a moment, Julia could have sworn that she could see her horrified face reflected in the growing flame.

She couldn't see them, but Julia could hear the delighted cackles of demons watching the burning, enjoying the pain and suffering tremendously. Julia felt a disgusted knot in her stomach as she fully absorbed that there was no getting out of this. She was going to die, on display for Wyatt and his demons and most likely all of San Francisco.

Fire licked her feet, melting the rubber sole of her shoe to the wood beneath her. She could feel the bottom of her feet burn painfully. Julia's face scrunched up in agony as she tried not to scream, biting furiously into her lip, tasting the sour blood that flowed into her mouth.

A scream tried to desperately claw its way out of Julia's dry and sore throat as she felt unbearable heat on her legs. She felt her clothes melting and melding onto her skin, and felt as if she was being cooked on a frying pan. The scream was almost out . . . she was no longer sweating; it was so hot that her sweat was being evaporated.

Finally, as the flames extended up onto her upper body, Julia could contain the scream no longer, and she let it out, her agonized shriek echoing eerily in the dark night, now alit by a bonfire stretching up into the sky, trying to reach the stars as it consumed the small figure tied in the middle of it.

The last thing Julia heard before everything thankfully faded away was the equally agonized scream of a brother who'd come to the rescue too late.