Dave ran through the streets of New York, ignoring the strange looks from pedestrians. His feet splashed in puddles and water flew up around his ankles even though the rain had stopped. His umbrella was tucked under his arm and he felt breathless as he opened the door to his apartment.

That had been Becky, the Becky. Becky the girl who had stood up for him in grade school. Becky, who had told Balthazar where he could be found instead of cowering away. Becky who had been his first and only friend in Ashridge. Becky the I'm-so-in-love-with-you-even-though-I'm-ten.

Adn he hadn't managed to make a fool of himself. Alright, so his strange speech patterns had been somewhat embarrassing. Yet, he'd done his presentation right. And then he'd managed to fix her antennae. The antennae that allowed her to do her 'one thing'. Thinking back on it, he'd been pretty cool. If he'd had the guts to ask for her phone number then everything woudl have been perfect.

He took a breath to calm himself. Dave went over what had happened in his head a million times he climbed the steps. Admittedly each time it changed a little so that by the end he was essentially riding a white horse, but still. The more he went over it the more epic he felt that it had been.

Smiling he unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped in. Bennet wasn't there; he was probably already off partying with the Princeton cheerleaders. He had some time to clean up before he met up with Balthazar. Using that he could make sure that he didn't have the same goofy grin that he knew was plastered over his face.

This was something he wanted to treasure himself, although he did want to ask what to do next. Bennet's approach to girls was too confident for him to attempt but he couldn't ask Balthazar about it either. Balthazar had been a great mentor and father figure and he was eternally indebted to him. He just had the feeling that the man knew absolutely nothing about girls.

Opening the fridge he took out a soda. After taking a sip he leaned back on the counter.

"Are you quite done?"

Dave choked on the soda and spit it out. The bottle dropped out of his hand and clattered on the floor. Sitting at his table like he owned the apartment, and the entire blockv, was Horvath; the man who had starred in the bulk of his nightmares since he was ten. Dave stared at him with wide eyes.

"You were surprisingly hard to find," Horvath said conversationally, "I expect something like that from Balthazar, but I spent years tailing you. Now I come back to New York only to find that you're going to college in the same city that I left you. And I was in Europe looking for you, as well as Asia. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

Dave opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"Yes, I don't remember you being particularly articulate," Horvath said, "Now, where's Balthazar, and where is the Grimhold?"

"Um…" Dave stuttered.

"Don't tell me that you don't know. Balthazar has a rather irritating habit of trying not to leave anyone behind," said Horvath, "Even if you were completely hopeless, which I suspect from the fact that you don't seem to have the brain cells necessary to form words, then he wouldn't abandon you."

Horvath mentioned what Dave considered Balthazar's best point like it was some sort of crime or faux pas.

"So," Horvath continued, "where is he?"

Swallowing Dave closed the door to the fridge. Then he took off running, his hand slipping across the papers tacked to the fridge's door. Several came off and Dave took one lunging step forward. He slipped on the spilt soda and ran into the door. He heard Horvath chuckle with amusement before he took off down the staircase.

Getting up leisurely Horvath looked at the scattered papers. Two calendars had been knocked down. One showed a picture of a pack of wolves. He looked at it thoughtfully before turning to the other calendar. This one had an artist's rendition of a Chinese-style dragon. Horvath grinned.

"Sweet," he said, tapping it with his cane.

.

.

.

Dave knew he shouldn't be running. He had spent the second half of his life training in case he met Horvath or someone like him. A lot had happened since he had last seen him; ten years for one. Inside of those ten years he had seen things that would curdle the blood of most people.

However, he had never been quite so scared as he was when he had first encountered Horvath. Because when he was ten, when he had first seen what Horvath could do, Dave had had no powers. He'd kicked and flailed but been completely powerless. Horvath had hit him on the head to knock him out because he kept screaming. He'd been kind enough to wake him up when he cut him down his forearm to collect his blood though.

In short Horvath scared the hell out of him. No matter how many spells he accumulated he somehow always knew he'd freeze if he ever encountered Horvath. On a few occasions he'd tried to articulate this to Balthazar. In the end he hadn't, because he hadn't wanted his Master to be disappointed in him. It didn't look like it mattered much anyway, because he was still running when he should be fighting.

Humiliation and shame welled up in him. They were almost as great as his fear. After everything he was still a little child. Was he really twenty? Then why did he feel like he was ten and hiding under his bed? Disgust joined the rest of the emotions as he reached the subway station near his house.

Somewhat exhausted he stopped and looked behind him. No one was following him. A new sort of shame welled up. Horvath hadn't even tried to chase him. He'd been trying to scare him, probably because he knew that he could. What sort of sorcerer was Dave if he couldn't even stand up to one Morganian? Bile rose into his throat.

Metal screeched from his right. Dave whipped around to see a Chinese-style dragon ripping through the ticket taker with a vengeance. It stopped and roared at him, spitting fire. Dave managed a shield and the flames went around him. Apparently Horvath wasn't just trying to scare him after all.

And yet, Horvath wasn't there. This wasn't Horvath that he was facing; just one of his creations. It was a creature like any other that he had faced in the past; although it was rather larger. On the plus size it wasn't dripping mucus though. He kept his shield up but narrowed his eyes. He was disgusted with himself, but also angry. Now there was something to take that anger out on.