"I many times thought peace had come,

When peace was far away;

As wrecked men deem they sight the land

At centre of the sea,

And struggle slacker, but to prove,

As hopelessly as I,

How many fictitious shores

Before the harbor lie."

Midnight.

The witching hour, Sophie's grandfather once called it. She remembered the first time she had stayed up until midnight. New Year's Eve. Her grandfather explained to Sophie the magical overtones of that time of night.

"Solar midnight," he said, "is the direct opposite of solar noon and thought to open the gates to the Underworld. It is a time when ghosts appear; since communicating with ghosts is thought to be an ability of witches, midnight became known as the 'witching hour.'"

Silas only spoke to give her directions. With the tense silence hanging in the air and pitch black night surrounding the car from every side, it was easy to see how midnight could have been seen as the perfect time to summon spirits. At first, she thought the creeping feeling along her spine was her mind playing tricks on her and she chastised herself for worrying about superstitions.

But the feeling refused to leave her. There was a disturbing anticipation filling the space around her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Her heart thumped in a strange fashion as her inution dragged her eyes off the road, the feeling of being watched making her skin crawl.

Sophie glanced to her left, not too surprised to see a pair of ruby orbs glancing back. The intensity of Silas' gaze made her stomach tighten and Sophie looked back at their path. If she didn't know any better, she would have entertained the thought that the gates to the ghostly realms had opened up in her car and deposited a devil-eyed specter right into her passenger seat.

No, the pale being beside her was a mortal man. Somehow, that was almost as frightening.

Now that her adreniline rush had faded, her common sense came back in waves and she found herself growing uneasy. Silas had stopped giving her directions nearly ten minutes ago, never once telling her where they were heading. Before the hotel, before the hospital, Sophie could have predicted... But if Silas was leading her into a trap... what would be waiting for her on the other end of the long dirt road they were driving upon. It would have been easy to assume him to be purely a marionette, as Robert had seemed comfortable to do.

That was before. Sophie couldn't assume such a thing. She had seen, more than once, that Silas was more than a toy of Opus Dei. There was a calculating coldness behind his crimson hues, a smouldering passion for vengence and a sharpened intelligence like the hidden dagger beneath the assassin's cloak; one never knew it was there until it was too late.

This, she had realized too late. All she could do now was find out where the assassin's dagger was aimed.

Sophie frowned, wiping the sweat from her palm onto her pants. Opus Dei had deceived Silas and he knew it. If that had been enough to cut his strings, no matter how much he had been brainwashed, it didn't change that fact that people were dead and he had been the one to pull the trigger. If Silas had, as it seemed, cut the strings that connected him with Opus Dei, it was a frightening thing to wonder where that volatile anger and cunning would be directed... and to what ends.

Tiny numbers on the car's dashboard read that it was one o' clock. Sophie had been driving for an hour without stopping, glancing at the rearview mirror every two minutes. It had been a little over an hour since Robert had called and Silas had made a strange ultimatum.

"Bring everything the police and anyone else has on offenses made by Opus Dei to Notre Dame de la Garde by Thursday night..."

She had been so busy trying to drive that Sophie hadn't questioned what Silas was saying to Robert. If he wanted records, well, that wasn't her problem. The broken out back window and men shooting at her were her problem and everything else had taken second place on the priority list.

"If you do this, you might see Mademoiselle Neveu alive again. Understood?"

Until Silas had said that, anyhow. Suddenly, every word Silas even whispered took priority. Who were the people that had chased them? He had gotten her out of the hotel, of course, but to who's benefit? Sophie began to wonder.

She slowed the car to a stop as a rabbit crossed the path, staring wide-eyed into the headlights. Waiting, her mind began to run with half-formed questions and concerns that finally had the time to surface. Silas had promised he wasn't going to kill her, but what good was that promise? He had attacked before. Sophie's hand rose to touch her throat, where a small scratch still remained from the knife that had once been held there. He killed without hesitation, all at the command of Opus Dei.

But, she desperately protested in her mind, is he still under their command? She didn't know and the severity of the situation finally sunk in. She was stuck in the wilderness with God knew how many people after her head and the only one she had to rely on was a murderer.

Images of the knife against her neck danced in her mind, followed by his velvet voice whispering next to her ear. The glinting gun pointed at her, the shattered listening device laying useless on the floor. The subtle threat over the phone, the feel of his fingers twined with hers...

Killer. Saviour. Was there a difference anymore?

Stop it, Sophie. Biting her lip, she ran her hand across her eyes, wiping away the forming tears of fatigue and frustration. The rabbit still stared at her from its spot on the road, as if asking her what she was going to do.

If I'm going to get out of this alive, she finally decided, I'm just going to have to trust him... for now.

She looked around, trying to clear her mind. The lights of Marseille were becoming distant dots in her review mirror and the sparse trees were thickening into deep forests. Sophie leaned foreward, trying to see through the darkness. The paved road had turned into a dirt path that seemed to go on for miles.

"Where are we, Silas?" she asked. When he didn't reply, Sophie looked over at him. "Silas?"

In the darkness, she could just make out his form, curled upon the seat. His eyes were closed and his arms were folded, chest rising and falling in steady movements. By the time the rabbit had regained its senses and hopped away, Sophie was sure of two things. Silas was sound asleep and she was totally lost.

"Damn..."

Sophie watched him a moment longer, her gaze softening. The man's predatory intensity had all but disappeared, a look of peace taking its place. His skin almost glowed in the dim light given off by the half moon overhead and, for a heartbeat, Sophie could see the angel beneath the mask of the murderous wraith.

It was there inside him, a flickering candle amidst the shadows. Sophie reached out and brushed a lock of pale hair from Silas' face. Maybe, in time, the flicker would become a flame. It would be interesting to see what lay beyond the darkness...

Literally, as well as metaphorically, she thought with a sigh. Sophie put her hand back on the wheel and took her foot off the brake, slowly advancing on the dirt path. The car's clock hit half past one... Monday had officially started. She would rather have been stuck waking up to another day at the office.

It was twenty minutes later that the dirt path turned to a gravel drive. She hit a big bump and the last shard of glass still standing in the back window fell off. It lay with all the rest in the backseat, mournfully glittering in the moonlight. Sophie was about to glance over her shoulder to assess the damage when a large, iron gate suddenly rose out of the night in front of the car.

Where has he led me?

"My god," Sophie whispered, looking up and up at the huge barrier. "It can't be..."

Stamped on the gate was a fleur de lis.