She was in the Cavern, watching the candlelights flicker against the Shield of the Fallen Sister, feeling the peacefulness of the sanctuary.

Suddenly she yelped as her hand stung sharply. She looked down at her hand and saw an open cut across her palm. As she watched, someone placed a pure white cloth beneath her hand and three drops of her blood, one at a time, fell on the cloth from her cut. As they fell, as if from far, far away, a bell tolled in rhythm to each drop.

She looked up; a man with dark hair and worried eyes looked back at her, holding the cloth. Beside him, a little girl with long blonde hair solemnly recited an age-old poem.

"No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manner of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each man's death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee."

The morning sun gleamed golden as it broke across the distant horizon and a gentle breeze teased her hair. The smells of the sea teased her senses with its tang of salt, fish, oil from the various boats, seaweed, and kelp. She leaned against the railing and breathed deeply, remembering the dream, a dream that had come not so long ago, before she'd been introduced to Mac. A familiar shuffling noise caught her attention and she smiled affectionately without turning her head.

"Father. Have you come to enjoy the view?"

"Yes, and to see how you are doing, child."

Normally she would've given some glib reply but not this time. Father Thomas seemed to sense that something was bothering her and he spoke again.

"What troubles you, my child? If there's anything I can do to help you, I will."

She was quiet for a long moment and then she spoke.

"Before I was Called, I used to enjoy watching the ocean, especially in the pre-dawn. It was a different ocean, a warmer climate. It was a different lifetime and sometimes I wonder if it was all just a dream." She blinked, remembering. "I went out with a bunch of friends one night to celebrate my fifteenth birthday, came home late, and walked in to a scene straight from a horror movie. My parents and my older brother, something had entered our home and killed them." Her voice became hushed as the memories played across her mind. "Their blood was everywhere, like someone had played with them before killing them. I remember screaming and screaming and screaming. Then I remember vowing revenge on the killer, never realizing that the killer might not even be human. The next day I was Called and my first kill was the monster that had killed my family. I vowed never to care again." She gave a rueful smile and said, "Failed miserably."

"But that is what makes us human, child; our capacity for caring. We are not machines or robots; we can not shut our emotions off merely to protect ourselves; it just doesn't work that way, I'm afraid."

"I know. Believe me, I know." She looked down at the water and said, "My time is coming, Father. This fight will be one I won't be able to walk away from."

"Are you certain?"

"A bell tolling in the distance and three drops of blood on a snow-white cloth held by a man with dark hair and who spoke with his eyes rather than his voice. Shortly after I came to New York, I saw the vision in a dream and I've known for some time that would be the warning; it happened last night."

He nodded.

"The ones who came before me, I wonder if they were afraid on the eve of battle. Did they question every decision they'd made, wondering how it all came to this? Wondering if there could have been some other way? If there was something different they could have done that would have avoided the coming fight?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, Father, I'm scared shitless."

"Of dying?"

"No, not of dying, because that comes to all of us sooner or later. What I'm afraid of is that when I need it the most, my courage, will fail me, and I'll let the people I care about down."

He smiled affectionately. "Something tells me that will not happen, child. Despite the horrors you have known, you have always been a strong one. I have seen you find strength within you even at your darkest of moments and somehow, by the grace of God, pull through. You have stood strong before; I have no doubt you will stand strong again."

"I hope so. Heaven help me, I hope so." She reached into her shirt and pulled out her favorite medallion, the one with the Solomon symbol of Protection with the 6th Pentacle of Mars engraved on it. She stared at it in silence for a few moments, rubbing a thumb across the worn engraved surface. Then looking at Father Thomas, she said, "If I'm right, if the warning comes true and I don't survive the battle, the man I brought to the sanctuary, will please give this to him, no matter what condition it's in?"

Father Thomas nodded. "I will, child, you have my word. Is there anything you would like me to tell him?"

"No, Father. Being the kind of man he is, I think he'll understand." She looked at the kindly old man who had cared for her since her arrival in New York and said, "What about you? Will you be okay?"

He smiled affectionately and said, "My work is almost done here, and another will be taking my place as Keeper. I will soon go to my rest but not before I see to the end of the coming battle."

She grinned teasingly. "You, Father? Go to your rest? Yeah, right. Rumor has it you're practically immortal. Trying to get you to rest is like trying to get a blood-sucker to stand in the sun for more than ten seconds!"

He laughed and said, "Child, I have seen this millennium turn; even I know when it's time to rest." He put an arm around her and quietly said, "Come what may, we will face it together, as we have done so before."

"Y'know, when you put it that way, it doesn't feel quite so scary after all."