Disclaimer: Read one paragraph of this and I swear you'll know that I didn't write Rebel Angels.

A/N: I know, I'm soooooo sorry I didn't update sooner. Please, please, please forgive meeee. Turns out I actually have a life to deal with, imagine that!

Note: The following chapter occurs in Rebel Angels, pages 301-308 (hardback).

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"Am I in danger?" she whispered nervously as I led her through the dark and crude tavern.

"Not anymore than I am," I assured her. "Just go about your business and don't look at anyone and you will be fine."

She cast me a frightened glance, but didn't argue. I could see why she was scared. The place would be startling and absolutely terrifying for anyone who didn't come here often; especially a young woman who is not accustomed to such vulgarity.

I lead her to a table in the back where she would be nearly hidden to all other inhabitants. The ceiling, low and beamed, obstructed almost every light in the tavern, casting a soft darkness over the table.

I started to walk away but she stopped me, yelping frantically, "Where are you going?"

"Shhhh!" I hushed, pressing my finger to my lips. "I shall surprise you."

She folded her hands and gripped them so hard that her knuckles turned white. I dashed behind the counter, grabbing a plate of food off the counter and tossing a couple shillings on the rough surface. Then, returning to the table, I set the plate in front of her, allowing one small smile to form on my face.

Her striking green eyes lit up instantly as she spied the Dosa, as I knew they would. She eagerly bit into the food, closing her eyes to savor the taste.

"This is delicious!" she exclaimed, taking another bite. "How do you know of this place?"

I took my seat. "Amar told me of it. The man who owns it is from Calcutta. You see that curtain there?" I gestured to the tapestry hanging on the wall. "There is a door behind it. It's a hidden room. If you should ever need me…"

She threw me a small smile. "Thank you." She turned to gaze at the tapestry. "Do you ever miss India?"

"My family is the Rakshana," I said, shrugging. "They discouraged loyalty to any other country or customs."

"But don't you remember how beautiful the ghats looked at dusk, or the flower offerings floating on the water?"

I did. "You sound like Amar." I averted my eyes from her face and took one of the Dosa, nibbling on it.

"What do you mean?"

I swallowed. "He longed for India sometimes. He would joke with me. 'Little brother,' he would say, 'I'm going to retire to Benares with a fat wife and twelve children to bother me. And when I die, you can throw my ashes into the Ganges so I will never come back.'"

I chanced a glance at her, and I could see that she was gazing at me with sad eyes. Sympathy. That was not what I wanted. I swallowed again.

"And did he…marry?"

"No. Rakshana are forbidden to marry. It is a distraction from our purpose."

"Oh. I see."

"Once you've sworn an oath to the Rakshana, you are committed for life. There is no leaving. Amar knew this. He honored his duty."

"Was he very high in the ranks?"

An icy coldness gripped my insides as I croaked, "No. But he might have been if…" If he had lived…

I felt my throat begin to constrict and I pushed my plate away from me, knowing that I would not be able to eat if I wanted to. "What is it you needed to tell me?"

"I think Miss McCleethy is Circe," she said grimly. She continued, telling me about the anagram and her trip to Bedlam, about her visit with the Hawkins girl and her mother's newspaper clippings. "Miss Hawkins said that Circe tried to enter the realms through her but they couldn't do it. Nell could only see it in her mind. And when she couldn't…" She trailed off.

"When she couldn't?" I prompted, not letting the stab of mild surprise I felt show on my face.

"I don't know. I've seen glimpse of it in my visions."

I shot her a warning look. Her visions were not reliable, as they've come from the realms. Surely, I thought, exasperated, she would realize this by now?

"I know what you are about to say," she said, glaring at me, "but I keep seeing these three girls in white who were friends of Miss Hawkins's. It is the same vision, but a little clearer each time. The girls, the sea, and the woman in the green cloak. Circe. And then…I don't know. Something terrible happens. But I can never see that part."

I drummed my thumb against the table, deep in thought. Who were these mysterious girls and what did they have to do with Circe? And what was the terrible thing that happened?

It must have been cause by Circe, I decided. That is the only logical explanation…but what was it?

"Did she tell you where to find the Temple?" I asked finally, referring to the Hawkins girl.

"No. She keeps repeating seeing the true path."

"I know you are fond of Miss Hawkins," I said carefully, hesitating slightly, "but you must remember that her mind is not reliable."

"A bit like the magic and the realms just now," she countered, idly playing with her gloves. "I don't know where to begin. It feels impossible. I'm to find something that doesn't seem to exist, and the closest I've gotten is a lunatic at Bedlam who keeps nattering on about 'stick to the path; follow the path.' I would be overjoyed to stick to a bloody path if I knew where it was."

I felt my mouth drop open and I gaped at her, shocked at her sudden harsh language.

She blushed a deep crimson, a horrified expression materializing on her face. "Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry."

"You bloody well should be," I told her, laughing loudly.

She shushed me hurriedly and I quieted, beaming at her. She grinned back, and I felt my smile widen.

"I am sorry," she added, still smiling. "It's just that I am so vexed."

"I can see that, "I said, pointing to her amulet. "What happened here?"

"Oh," she said, removing it from her smooth neck. "That wasn't me. That was Miss Hawkins. The first time I visited her, she pulled it from my neck. I thought she meant to do me in. But she held it in front of her like this." She held the amulet in front of her, as if defending herself from some unknown evil.

"Like a weapon?" I asked, taking the amulet and swiping it though the air, as I would a sword or a dagger.

"No. She cradled it like this." She took the amulet from me and held it against her breast, moving it from side to side. "She kept peering at the back of it as if she were looking for something."

I stared at the amulet; there was something in the back of my mind that troubled me when I looked at it. I let my thoughts wander freely for a moment, searching my subconscious. For some reason, the way she held the thing reminded me very much of my book, The Odyssey…I remembered the ships, the billowing sails, and…I pictured in my mind the hero, Odysseus, clutching a compass to his chest…a compass! That was it! The way she was holding the amulet reminded me of a compass!

I sat up at once. "Do that again."

She obliged, her eyebrows furrowing as she calculated my expression. "What? What are you thinking?"

I slumped back into my chair, bewildered. "I don't know. It's just that what you're doing rather reminds me of a compass."

Her eyes lit up and she quickly brought the amulet close to her chest, examining it carefully.

"Do you see anything?" I asked, scooting my chair closer to hers, closer than I had meant to. I could smell her perfume; feel the warmth of her body nearly against mine, nearly. Just a little closer…

"Nothing," she said, obviously disappointed, lips pouting ever so slightly, lips begging to be kissed…

Trying not to stare at her mouth, I diverted my attention to my hands. "Well, it was a good thought." And not only about the amulet, either.

"Hold on, what if we can only see it in the realms?"

Looking back at her sharply, I realized that she was probably right. I nearly slapped my forehead. Of course! Such an intelligent girl.

"Will you try it?"

"As soon as I can."

The sooner the better…I think.

"Good show, Miss Doyle," I said cheerfully, masking my troubled thoughts with a grin. "Let's get you home before I'm out of a job."

She stood up, nodding in agreement. I ushered her out of the tavern, and back through the twisting streets that led to the carriage we arrived in. I daydreamed idly as I walked; thoughts of jasmine and ocean waves swimming through my mind. However, it wasn't until she lightly touched my shoulder that I looked up and immediately saw that something was wrong.

The little boy that I paid to watch the carriage was no longer there, but instead, three large men stood outside the carriage, two of the bunch each gripping a stick menacingly. The men were wearing the same black suits, and I realized instantly who they were. Fear gripped my heart, my throat tightened…these men were from the Rakshana. The men from the Covent Garden, the men who instructed me to kill her.

I held out a hand to stop her from going any father. The men whistled at me teasingly, motioning for me to approach.

"The Eastern Star is hard to find," said the man with the wicked scar across his cheek. "Very hard to find."

I didn't answer.

"'Ello, mate," rumbled one of the men holding a stick, one of the Scar-Man's goons. "Remember me?" He smacked his stick against the palm of his hand.

I rubbed the back of my head, recalling with pain the blow he dealt me back in the Covent Gardens.

"Mr. Fowlson 'ere requires your presence at a business mee'in' of sorts by the lady's carriage." The man grabbed my jacket, roughly pulling me forward. I glanced at her worriedly as the other goon seized her arm, also dragging her along. I felt a dim rage arise behind my growing fear. These men were dangerous, and I knew well not to disobey them, but did they have to handle her like that? She was a lady!

"Fowlson," she proclaimed bravely. "So you have a name."

I wished desperately that she would say no more, for surely they would punish her for her defiance, that rebelliousness that was always there behind her innocent eyes and her pretty curls.

I noticed that Fowlson scowled angrily at the burly man for saying his name.

"There's no need for pretense," she continued boldly, "I know that you are Rakshana. And I'll thank you to stop following me about."

My alarm for her increased tremendously as I saw the dangerous glare Fowlson sent her. Had this girl any shame or humility? Or common sense? This man is capable of harming her, doesn't she realize this?

"And I know you are an impertinent girl with no regard for the seriousness of the business before you," snarled Fowlson, "else you should be in the realms searching for the Temple rather than dallying about London's seamier streets. Surely the Temple is not here. Or is it? Tell me, just where did this one take you?"

I held my breath, hoping desperately that she would not reveal the whereabouts of my hiding place. The only place that I was not being watched. Please don't say anything…

"Sightseeing," she said finally, expression unfaltering. "I wished to see these slums for myself."

I sighed with relief.

One of the men scoffed.

"I assure you, sir," she persisted, staring at Fowlson coldly. "I am in earnest about my duty."

"Are we, now, lass? The task is simple: Find the Temple and bind the magic."

"If it is so simple a matter, why don't you do it?" she replied crossly. "But no; you can't. So you will have to rely on me, and 'impertinent girl', won't you?"

Fowlson pursed his lips tightly, appearing as though he had just swallowed a lemon whole. My fear was heightened slightly, but it was all I could do to repress my laughter once I saw the look on Fowlson's face. Classic.

"For the present," sneered Fowlson, "it would seem so." He turned to me, casting me an evil smile. "Do not forget your task, novitiate."

I froze, afraid to turn and look at her, to see her reaction. Panic flooded my veins, and I could scarcely breathe. You bastard, I thought furiously.

Fowlson grinned triumphantly, motioning for his men to follow him as he disappeared around a corner.

Once I sure they were gone, I hurriedly ushered her into the carriage, hoping in vain that she somehow lost her hearing and did not catch that last thing Fowlson had uttered. But of course, she had heard it and was full of irritating questions, that I knew for sure.

"What did he mean, do not forget your task?" she asked, sure enough, confirming my fear.

"I told you," I said, taking care not to catch her eye. "My task is to help you find the Temple. That is all. What did you mean when you asked Fowlson to stop following you about?"

It was an incredibly stupid way of diverting her attention, but I hoped that it would work.

"He has been following me!" she cried indignantly, raising an eyebrow. "He was at the train station the day I arrived in London. And when I was out walking in Hyde Park with Grandmama, he rode by in a carriage. And I saw a woman in a green cloak with him, Kartik. A green cloak!"

"There are plenty of green cloaks in London, Miss Doyle," I told her, very glad of the change of subject. "They do not all belong to Circe."

"No. But one does. I am only asking if you are certain that Mr. Fowlson can be trusted?"

"He is one of the Rakshana, part of my brotherhood," I said confidently. "Yes. I am certain." Or am I? Can the bastard really be trusted?

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A/N: Yeah, this chapter sucks, I know. It was a bit rushed, and the chapter in the book was a weird one. For this particular chapter it was extremely difficult to add any more description other than what Libba Bray wrote.

Plus, I didn't add a lot of hormonally-influenced thoughts on Kartik's part because this chapter really wasn't meant for building Kartik and Gemma's relationship; it was just necessary for the plot. I promise the next chapter will be really, really, mushy gushy, lovey. Or at least, Kartik will be very lonely and horny, and we all know what that means…!

So review, por favor!