Disclaimer: Don't own it, would like to, know it's not going to happen.

Author's note: I'm not ignoring cannon. Promise.

Though this is getting a little embarrassing. If no one out there is enjoying this, I can take it down, save space or whatever techno-giga-thing it is. I'm going to chapter five and then I will take it as the sign it is.

…

Chapter 3

...

I found myself tearing up. Even in the supernatural world, the only way you could see a ghost was if you were dead. Kristof Nast was very assuredly a ghost, which meant...oh no. Valiantly, I tried not to cry as I whispered, "Oh Savannah, I am so sorry."

"He's not that bad," she said carelessly. "I would have preferred my mom, but he said she had work. And that she was going to kick someone's ass when she found out she wasn't being allowed to help me."

"I meant about you being dead," I said as gently as I could. It wasn't surprising how upset I was. I never knew how to appreciate anyone until they were ripped from my life, torn out like—

"Oh, I'm not dead" she said as if it were obvious. Denial. "Why would I be able to talk to you if I was dead? Anyway, Kristof—or his boss, I don't actually understand whose coming up with the theories—they have an idea."

Talking to me might have been a sign she wasn't dead, but she was a witch, not a necromancer. She shouldn't be able to see the dead. And there was the fact that she was invisible. I brought the cigarette to my lips and took a long drag, preparing for the worst.

Savannah continued: "They think I'm stuck between two worlds."

"Two worlds?" With Savannah, it paid to never be surprised.

"That's what he says, anyway. I can see ghosts, I can see you, I just can't touch either. He can't phase me through to the ghost world and I can't use any of their transportation spells. I had to walk all the way to your place and of course you weren't home—"

"I was busy being traumatized."

She ignored that. "He says the Fates have never seen anything like this before. They don't know what to do—they think we have to fix it from your side. So..."

I shivered. Ghosts spooked me. Sure, the fact they proved there was an afterlife may have reassured some people, but I was too ashamed of what my dad would think of me to take comfort in thinking he was still around. Plus, it meant that even once I was dead, existence could still suck.

I finished the thought for her. "So I have to help you. Without going to Paige, I assume. You've got lousy timing, you know that?"

"Yeah, how'd you get all that blood on you?"

I started laughing as I sat in the gutter, smoking. Her disinterest amused me simply because she didn't mean to be callous. Hell, getting stuck between the realms of the living and the dead would allow anyone a certain bit of self-centeredness.

I relayed my night. She swore, offered to kick some ass on my behalf—the second I fixed her up—and then said proudly: "But that was some awesome casting. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Neither did I," I admitted. "So do you have a plan that allows me to hide out for a few days, just to make sure this is going to blow over?"

"As a matter of fact...do you think you could stand to go to Sean's?"

Sean Nast was Savannah's brother, the one member of her family that didn't despise her. He was also a sorcerer, and, more importantly, a Nast. I had a good reason to hate the Nasts, but was surprised to hear Savannah even vaguely acknowledge it. That was nice.

It also made a lot of sense. Sean was as safe a choice. He had all of the resources of Paige and Lucas but without any of the expectations. And unlike the other sorcerers we could have asked for help, he wouldn't kill me face-to-face, even if the Nasts were behind the attack. He was that kind of stand up guy. The type who would do anything to rescue a reckless kid sister who had gotten herself thrown out of this dimension. Just the kind we needed.

It was still dark, but I wanted to be indoors by the time the sun came up. It would make me harder to track, I hoped. I needed to be gone and going to a Nast would keep me safe, even if I didn't like the idea on principle. I could live without principles. As long as there was the living part.

"Just tell me the address."

Savannah rattled off the street and informed me it was actually a hotel. She paused before giving me the room number: "Are you going to fall asleep on me?"

I turned exhausted eyes in what I supposed was her direction and tried to glare. It had the opposite effect.

"Are you okay?" she asked, finally concerned.

"Careful, Savannah. You're starting to sound like Paige. If you're not careful you're going to start helping the hopeless or something."

"As if."

I struggled to me feet, dropping the filter down the sewer. Tugging my bag higher up my back I set off for the other side of town. It was a long walk, but I wasn't going to protest. I was going to need time to forget the night I was having. I could repress like no one else—the club might prove challenging, but I didn't think it was impossible.

…

Sean's address place was located in the part of town that I couldn't afford to breath in. He lived down by the ocean and across town. It didn't matter. When I complained, Savannah told me it had taken her almost twelve hours to get to me and the guilt helped with the walking. Technically, I could have taken a bus, but Savannah couldn't and I didn't want to leave her alone, even if this was all her fault.

It was annoying having her voice in my head, but comforting too. It was better than my voice. She didn't get tired as we walked. She hadn't eaten since the night before either, but she wasn't hungry either.

If it had been me, that would have been nothing to worry about. But Savannah was a normal human being—food should have been important. The way she wasn't tired, wasn't hungry, reminded me too much of a ghost. But I had to cling to her reassurances that Kristof was right, that she didn't belong in his world either.

I had been a tad optimistic in thinking I would be able to forget about the club completely. Every time I closed my eyes I saw that heart in high-definition colour. There were people screaming all around, no matter how I tried to block it out. Savannah's voice was the only thing keeping it at bay and even Savannah couldn't ramble on for hours.

The hotel was easy enough to spot once I got in the general area. It towered over the leafy palm trees, a white and gold testament to the idiocy of modern aesthetics. There was still blocks and blocks to walk, pushing past people who were starting to head to work, but I finally made it.

I took a moment at the bus shelter across the street to pull out a small compact. Savannah's voice boomed out: "You trying to seduce me brother now?"

I hadn't suddenly lost my mind; Sean's building would obviously ask questions if I showed up looking like a homeless person. It was that kind of place—a Cabal son wouldn't live anywhere else.

"I'm trying not to get arrested for littering his lobby," I snapped back. Savannah never cared what anyone thought about her. It was the thing I loved and hated about her the most.

It wasn't too hard to make myself look presentable in only a few minutes, even if I been through hell and back. Looking respectable was something that I had practiced for years. It might have been my only skill. My clothes were a little wrinkled, but I didn't want to change in the middle of the street. They were clean at least. One last straightening of the hair and I looked as good as I ever would. With a sigh, I left the shelter and headed towards the building where Sean Nast lived.

The sun had almost fully risen by now.

There was only one concierge in the lobby and my luck finally came back, as she spent the whole time it took me to slip to the elevators being distracted by an angry businessman. I was grateful for that; I needed some luck to keep me going. I was running on empty and most spells were probably beyond me at this point. Not that I was ever a very strong caster (thanks again, mother) but I was particularly useless now. I just needed to sleep.

The elevator had a marble floor. At least, it looked marble. I pressed my hands to the ground, enjoying how it seemed to zap the heat right out of me. If it made me look ridiculous, I was too exhausted to care and deserved a small respite. There was no one else around to judge me, anyway. Yuppies apparently got to sleep in.

"Don't pass out in the elevator," Savannah warned me. I ignored her. "Gillian, stop looking like that. You're my only hope and you can't just die on me."

"I'll be fine," I told her, struggling to stand up. "It's amazing what I can take."

"Amazing is one word for it."

The hallway had plush red carpeting and I felt a little bit like a movie star. Of course, the Cabal sons lived like this. It was enough to make you sick. To be honest, I was surprised that he lived in a hotel. If I had the money...what was the point? I didn't, he did, and he had chosen to live in a place that ensured he never had to make a bed ever again.

"I think I hate your brother," I thought.

Savannah scoffed. "It's not that nice."

She hadn't grown up with the Cabal money. Her mother had done well, but not this well, and when Paige became her guardian I knew money had been tight. Not tight the way my childhood had been, but not like the ridiculous wealth currently before us. But I let her look down on whatever she wanted. It was just her way.

There was no one around and when I got to the door, it was easy enough to open with the simplest unlock spell I knew. I was grateful. I was recuperating slower than normal—probably because of the lack of sleep—and I wasn't sure I could have used a more difficult spell. I stepped inside, hoping no one had seen me.

The wooden door was solid and I leaned against it, gathering strength. I had made it. They wouldn't track me here, not for a long while. I could rest and think of a plan when I stopped feeling sick. Relief washed over me and I asked:

"So what's the plan?"

"Talk to Sean and ask him to arrange for us to meet a necro. Don't tell him about Kristof. That's a ghost no-no apparently. I don't even think he liked me telling you. Anyway, call a necro. I want to be a hundred percent sure I'm not dead. Though not—"

"Not Jaime Vegas," I finished for her.

Jaime Vegas was the interracial council's official necromancer delegate and the most powerful necro either of us knew. But she was also very good friends with Paige and Lucas. If we went to her, she would feel honor-bound to tell them.

I glanced around and only then realized I was standing in the most incredible room I had ever seen. There were plush couches and a glass table and everything was real (imported) wood all highlighted by the open windows that let the light of the rising sun illuminate every surface. There was a television that might not have fit into my old bedroom and a full bar near the back, glasses catching in the light. There was one of the biggest desks I had ever seen, which had probably belonged to someone hopelessly important. I think there might even have been gold along the side. Everything was ridiculously beautiful and the whole place might have cost more than my life so far. The Cabals knew how to make you feel inadequate.

There was a door on either side of the television. For the bathroom and the bedroom, I assumed. I tried the one closest to me, hoping Sean would be awake by now. No such luck.

There was a very naked, very asleep, blonde man sprawled out across the bed, a thin sheet barely covering his ass. But it wasn't the fact that he was half-naked that I noticed. Okay, so it was what I noticed. Sean wasn't unfortunately built at all—not that I would ever say that to Savannah. But what held my attention was the art on his back.

It was one of the most striking tattoos I had ever seen. It was a giant black cross, ornately decorated—in true, over exaggerated Nast fashion—and weaved around it I could make out the names Kristof and Josef. Behind it were intricately detailed wings, each feather lovingly crafted. You knew you were trailer trash when you thought ink was attractive. But I was not here to admire Savannah's brother's choice of artwork.

I was about to wake him up—while politely averting my eyes, or at least not staring—when a voice rang out. A female voice.

"Who the hell are you?"

A woman stood in the center of a doorway on the adjoining wall, having just gotten out of the shower. She had only a towel clutched immodestly to her. She was absolutely stunning. Even damp, her hair artfully tumbled. Her green eyes practically glowed. Flawless skin, perfect body, face ever so slightly awkward in a way that just screamed model. Considering Sean could afford the room, there was no reason he couldn't afford a plastic girlfriend, too.

Of course said girlfriend was an early riser. It was just my luck.

Sean would be glad to help his sister, but I was clearly not his sister. The tale I was about to tell him was a little bit preposterous and very presuming. Pissing off his girlfriend before he had even woken up was not going to endear me to the man. This was going to be a problem.

Savannah's voice in my head was nervous: "That's not—"

Her unnecessary warning was cut off when the half-naked women spoke again: "What is going on here?"

Story of my life—nothing good.