Jim grabbed her wrist as she tried to leave.

"Don't be stupid, Calandra," he said, his face so close she could smell his cigarette-saturated breath. "You can't walk out alone. Not here, not this late at night."

She pulled away. It was a piss-poor excuse for making her stay, but it was one with a little weight, given that she was a tall, leggy redhead with a classic hourglass figure. "Come with me, then," she retorted. "But I am leaving."

She watched him pull in the air, trying to calm himself. He'd been trying to stop her going for the last twenty minutes, but she had made up her mind. She'd thought he was fun, interesting, sweet – and he was all of that. But he was also paternalistic, in a way that put her on edge, and frankly grossed her out.

"Okay," he said with effort. "Okay, I'll take you home."

"Thank you," she replied. He got up and pulled his shoes on, while she donned her jacket. They stepped out into the cool spring night.

She sucked in the air, enjoying the slight dampness from the earlier rain. Though the street lights obscured the stars, she could feel their faint, faint light. She was tempted to dim the artificial lighting around them, put up a column of darkness so that the heavens could reach her unfiltered. But no, not in public. Not in front of Jim, and certainly not in front of the man at the end of the street.

She instead twisted the light between her and Jim, allowing her to look at him without turning her head. One of her best tricks; they might even give her a Thinker rating for it, one day. He was watching the man coming towards them, which she had expected. He was territorial, protective, even though this had only been their fourth date. She had to wonder why a guy like him had stayed in Montreal, when he had the money to move. Maybe he enjoyed the excuse it gave him to patronise women.

She reached for the light reflecting from the man, and found a pleasantly pretty, slim face framed by dark curls of hair. He was tall and narrow, dressed in a long grey coat, sticking to the shadows. She thought something about the face was familiar.

Inches before they passed each other on the street, he turned slightly towards them and the next several seconds were the most terrifying Calandra had ever known. Her knees gave out from under her and she screamed, long and loud until a hand was pressed over her mouth. She couldn't breathe, every gasping attempt falling short as the terror crushed her chest and put her head spinning like the world had fallen out from under her. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced, and judging from the sound of struggle beside her, Jim had been affected too.

Gradually, the fear cleared and the hand vanished. Jim was still whimpering in a ball beside her, in the foetal position with his hands over his head. Every now and again he gave a fresh stifled cry, while Calandra was calming down. She looked around. The boy was still there, standing over them, looking...bored.

"Calandra Wallace, right?" he said when she opened her mouth to speak. She closed it and nodded. "Sunbeam? Cool."

This isn't right. What just happened? He knows my cape name.

She backtracked away from him and crashed into another tall, good-looking man, who reached down and pulled her upright roughly. She pulled at the light around her, darkening her surroundings while enhancing her own sight, but his grip on her shoulder didn't relent. She tried flashing light directly into his face, but he still didn't move, and when she grabbed the keys in her pocket and tried to swipe at him, he dodged and swatted them from her hand. She flashed him again, with as much light as she had. He didn't flinch.

"Give it up," he said instead, dryly. "I can see as long as you can."

Her eyes widened in confusion.

"It's alright," he added, though his flat voice was the least soothing thing she'd ever heard. However, she did feel reassured. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

He walked her away from the main road, leaving Jim and the other man behind. She turned her head to look, but the man with her said, "Don't look back, Calandra." His grip tightened painfully on her arm, so she turned back. However, she twisted the light.

The other man was bending down over Jim's still-curled body. He did something with his hands, and Jim collapsed, uncurling as he fell. Dark liquid pooled around him with alarming speed.

The horror broke through the residual terrified confusion. Altogether too late, she realised what was happening.

These are Vasil children.

"Please," she said, and the man beside her smiled a hollow smile.

"It's alright," he said again, and it was alright. She relaxed under his grip, even breathing a sigh of relief. Everything was alright. She kept walking. She forgot about Jim.

They walked almost three blocks before the man with her tripped and fell, sprawling, onto the road. Calandra pulled away and stared as he struggled to his feet, repeatedly collapsing back down for no apparent reason. Every time he pushed himself up with a hand, it shot out from under him, and eventually he gave up.

She heard him growl, faintly, "If this is you, Jean-Paul, I swear to god..."

There was the sound of cackling laughter. Calandra whirled around, but couldn't find the source.

"Hey lady," the voice came again from nowhere. Suddenly, it was very close to her. "Run," it whispered, and Calandra fled, away from Jim, the two men, and the voice, as fast as her legs would carry her.

Guillaume caught his breath as she escaped, but didn't try to get up. Dad was going to be pissed.

"Where are you?" he asked. He couldn't sense anyone but Nicholas, who was reasonably alarmed but not moving. He could still see through Calandra's eyes, though she was out of his range and darkening everything around her, running blind. There was still a chance of getting the job done.

"I'm the ghost of Jean-Paul," the voice announced in an exaggeratedly spooky tone, pitched low. "Come to haunt his dickass brothers after his death."

"You little shit," Guillaume spat, and was about to add more, but suddenly his mouth was stinging and bleeding copiously. He coughed. Nicholas had seen him, but seemed to be struggling with something around his legs.

"I'm serious," the voice pleaded, rising back up to a distinctly feminine tone. "I mean, not literally, but I'm still going to give you shit on his behalf. What even was that abduction? No style at all. Even Valefor did better than that, and he did it in tights."

"Fuck you."

"Here's the thing, big bro," the voice continued. "You can't find me. You can't hurt me. And you were always the worst, the sadist of the group, the biggest kid with the strongest powers. So run back to daddy and tell him something's coming for him, and it's coming for you, and it's something he can't do shit to stop."

Silence.

Why was he on the ground? Cautiously, Guillaume started getting up. He needed to get Calandra and get home. Something had happened, he wasn't sure what, but it didn't bode well.

He had gotten no more than six inches off the ground when hard impact on his back knocked him down again. For a split second, he saw a huge, leering demon face, grinning at him with pointed teeth.

"Just kidding," Imp announced, and kicked him in the head hard enough to put him unconscious.

When Nicholas arrived, he saw the evidence of a fight, and somewhere, someone nervous. He looked around, but didn't see anyone. The nervousness spiked as his eyes met the nearest doorway, and he stayed looking that way. "Calandra? Sunbeam, is that you?" he called casually. He stepped away from Guillaume's body, towards the source of the anxiety. "Did you two fight?"

No response. Why couldn't he see her? A trick of her power? Well, when in doubt... He turned his power on the source.

A strangled cry, but nothing else. No Calandra; no people anywhere. He could feel the fear pulsing, the realest emotion he'd ever known, the one he could make people understand – but it hadn't worked. She hadn't relented her concealment, and even as he tried to reach towards the source, he found himself unable to touch her.

"You're scared," he tried, more quietly now that he was right beside her. "I can help."

He turned off his power so that she could respond. Times like this he wished it had a sense of nuance. What he wouldn't do for the ability to induce mild unease, so he could condition people with a scalpel rather than a sledgehammer. No, Calandra wasn't relenting, and probably wouldn't wait around long enough for him to traumatise her into submission. She was already moving past him, and he couldn't exactly wrestle her back home alone. The rope that had been around his legs had vanished somewhere, and besides, Guillaume was the one who could stop her fighting.

It was over, for now. He needed to get home, and get Guillaume home. Hopefully he'd wake up before he lost his contact with Calandra's senses. Dad would be angry, but he'd just send them back to finish the job, which they would.

He stooped to lift Guillaume and found his half-brother limp, head lolling back further than it should have been able. In the dim light, there was a long black line stretching across his neck, thick and ugly.

For the first time in a long time, Nicholas felt real, organic fear.

Guillaume was dead.