Breathing heavily, I sank to the ground. What just happened? Sitting there, I tried to calm my tattered nerves as the veil's misty webs of energy enveloped me. They were peaceful now, flowing smoothly around me, all vestiges of the earlier agitation gone. I’d never paid too much attention to the silvery strands of energy that made up the veil. I was aware they were there, but I had always been more concerned with making sure I got my charge through as quickly as possible, but now, sitting alone, I found them soothing almost relaxing. When they brushed against my skin, it felt like they were drawing the tension and fear from my body.

I don't know how long I sat there letting the veil wash over me, but when I finally did stand up, I felt calm and relaxed like I'd woken from a peaceful nap rather than having just run for my life. No matter how much better I felt now, I knew I could stay here. There was just the question of where to go.

I wasn’t comfortable going directly to Maggie's. The warding would keep me from going directly to the house. I’d have to come out down the street, and if that thing had been following me, it might try to catch up with me there. I had no idea how intelligent it was, and I didn’t want to step out of the veil only to find it waiting. Unable to stay still, I started walking as I tried to think of what to do. There weren’t a lot of places I knew around here that I felt safe going to.

The school was a possibility, but it would be empty, and I really didn’t want to be anywhere alone. The Vanguard office was probably the safest, but it would be warded along with the rest of the Consulate. Amber would have been my first choice before, I knew her house as well as I’d known my own, but that was out of the question now. I couldn’t just drop in on her, dragging all my problems with me. Maybe one of the places I'd used when smuggling? None of them were anywhere close to here, but at least I'd be well away from the creature.

There was always Donovan. Despite my situation, I couldn't help the flutter in my stomach as I pictured his warm smile and remember the way it felt to have his strong arms wrapped around me. I felt safer just thinking about him, but he clearly wasn’t the same person I used to know, and things weren’t mended between us. He seemed willing, even eager, to help, but we hadn't really talked the other night, and I wasn't sure how he would feel about me showing up out of the blue like this. Regardless of how he felt, his father wouldn’t be happy with me turning up on their doorstep.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t immediately realize that the area around me was starting to change. It wasn’t until the usually spongy ground of the veil, gave way to gravel shifting beneath my feet that I realized I’d already chosen my destination. The gravel transitioned into a concrete path. I waited until I approached a small porch, the outline of a blue door barely visible through the haze before I wove the doorway and stepped out of the veil.

I was standing in front of a small, single-story concrete building. There were no windows, and the blue door was reinforced with iron bands. It was nearly a full moon, and there was just enough light to make out the etchings of old wards, that marked almost every inch of its surface. None of them still held any power and hadn't for probably decades if not longer. I recognized the old jailhouse that sat near the back of the Brennen property. I hadn't thought about this place in years. Not since grade school when Donovan and I used to dare each other to go down into the cells.

I was staring at the door trying to figure out why, for the life of me, I had ended up here when the door opened just enough for me to make out a head of thick disheveled hair.

"Desirae, what the hell are you doing here?" Donovan opened the door farther, confusion clouding his blue eyes.

He was barefoot, wearing a gray t-shirt and flannel pajamas. Was he sleeping out here? I could see strands of his awen already half-formed into a weave, and he held a gun in his right hand. He quickly dropped the weave and moved the gun behind his back.

Without a word, I moved in, wrapping my arms around his waist as I rested my head against his chest. The calmness that had enveloped me in the veil left, and I felt my shoulders begin to shake as new tears stung my eyes. Why was he out here? Why was he armed? Those questions momentarily skirted across my mind, but they didn't matter, at least not for the moment.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asked, wrapping his left arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tight.

Unable to say anything, I stood there crying and trembling while he rocked me back and forth, whispering soothing words into my hair. After a couple of minutes, I was finally able to pull myself together.

“Can I come in?” I asked, letting go of his waist and stepping away to wipe the rest of the tears from my eyes.

He hesitated for a moment, but then stepped back and motioned for me to go inside.

“How did you know I was here?” I started to ask as I stepped past him, but trailed off once I walked inside.

The interior consisted of one large room, which had served as a front office for the constable, and a smaller room in the back, where the guards would sleep during their rotations. The cells were located beneath the building. A single bulb hung from the center of the main room, casting just enough light for me to make out a small cot, piled high with blankets, in the backroom; he was sleeping out here. The larger room had several tables pushed up against the walls, their surfaces littered with books and papers. Faded chalk outlines of various wards, some I recognized and some I didn’t, covered the center of the floor.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked, walking over to one of the tables, my own troubles temporarily forgotten.

"Just research," he said, quickly walking over, and gathering the papers before shoving them into a drawer where he deposited the gun as well.

"And why are you armed?" I asked, eying the drawer as he closed it. "Since when do you even own a gun? Does your father know you have it?"

It didn't make any sense. His family lived in what would be considered a mansion by most people, so why was he out here in this dilapidating building, which judging by the chill in the air, didn't even have heating.

"Yes, he knows. He's the one who bought it for me. And I'm out here because I like the solitude when I'm working," he said as he moved around the room, gathering together the books and papers, piling them up in some semblance of order.

"Working on what?" I asked. Darting around him, I yanked a paper from the pile.

He had to save the stack from toppling over, so I had a moment to look at the sheet before he snatched it from my hands. It was a spell weave far more complicated than anything I'd seen before, with what looked like dozens of interlocking lines. I recognized some of the patterns and thought it might have something to do with the weather, but I couldn't be sure.

"Some of us have to work a little harder than others," he said, placing the paper back on top of the stack. "I come out here to practice and work on a few tricks," he said, walking over to a chair and sitting down heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly.

I suddenly felt horrible. I knew Donovan struggled with his magic almost as much as I did. But where my mother had been nothing but supportive and encouraging, his father had seen his son's lack of skill as a personal insult. I’d found a workaround with my marbles and other tricks; I couldn't begrudge him for attempting to do the same.

"I'm sorry," I said, sitting on the edge of the table next to him.

"It's okay." He leaned back, running his fingers through his already unruly hair. "What's wrong? Why are you here? How did you even know to come out here?”

I didn’t have the answer as to how I knew to come here, so I focused on the why. "That thing from Friday night came after me again."

He sat back up, the front legs of his chair slamming down against the concrete floor. "How'd it get in without anyone stopping it? I thought they warded the house."

"I wasn't at the house," I said quickly, not wanting him to think Maggie or the others had done something wrong. "I was at Maggie’s shop. It was warded too, not that it mattered, they barely slowed it down. I think it feeds on awen."

"Damn it, Des, why were you alone? Where was your warden, or the Vanguard?" he asked, returning his attention to me, irritation overshadowing concern though it wasn’t directed entirely my way. "You have to be smarter than this. You should know better than to be alone."

"I didn’t mean to be alone," I shot back, my own anger starting to rise. "And what do you mean know better? Everyone, including you, said that it hadn't come after me specifically, remember. Why would I have any reason to think it was still a threat?" I wasn't stupid; if I’d had any concerns that it was after me specifically, I wouldn't have taken any chances. "I think it's a Banshee," I said, trying to steer the conversation from my perceived ineptitude.

"Why would you think that?" Donovan asked, turning away to shuffle through some of his papers. "What you described doesn’t sound like a Banshee, to me.”

Banshees were beings from Otherworld, not quite animals but not people either. They were considered death omens, foretelling of someone's imminent demise. Some thought they could sense death while others surmised that since time ran differently in the veil that for the Banshee, your death had already occurred. Regardless of how they knew, when someone was about to die, they could temporarily cross over to feed on that person's awen as they died. They could never stay long, immediately crossing back over once their feasting was done.

But Donovan was right; this thing looked nothing like a screaming spectral woman, and that wasn’t the only thing that didn’t fit the lore. Banshees were non-aggressive, they could sense death, they didn’t cause it. They were scavengers, not hunters, but I had given it some thought while sitting in the veil. There were very few things that fed on awen, and when I’d heard it wailing at the door, it had just clicked.

"I watched her feed on the awen in the wards. She might not look like one, but I don't know of anything else that does that, and if you’d heard her scream." A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered that horrifying wail.

“And you’re the premier expert on all things Otherworld now?"

"What? No." Why was he acting like this? Like he was angry or offended that I might know what it was.

"Okay, maybe your right. Let's say it is a Banshee; it doesn't matter at this point. What matters is that you need to start being more careful. Even without that thing, there's still the shifter," he said. "You need to be smart. Start taking precautions, don't be anywhere alone, and learn to defend yourself."

Well, that answered the question of if he knew about the shifter. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or not.

"I know how to defend myself," I said. "I do," I continued after he gave me a look that clearly said he didn't believe me. “I just wasn’t prepared. There’s a difference.”

"You’re not always going to have a chance to be prepared,” he said, unconvinced by my insistence. “Don’t worry; I can teach you.”

Standing up, he walked over to his desk and opened the long drawer at the top. "You're going to start by carrying this," he said, pulling out a hunting knife, its blade covered by a leather sheath, and handed it to me.

I pulled the knife from its casing. The blade was a little longer than my hand, and its thin edge had a silver sheen to it. A distinctive wavy pattern ran the length of the blade. I knew what it was, though I'd never seen one before.

"Where did you get a cold iron knife?" I asked as I carefully slid the sharp blade back into its case.

Cold iron was an ore that only came from meteorites. The iron found on earth was always mixed with so many other elements that it had to be smelted to remove impurities before it could be used, but the iron found in rare iron-nickel meteors could be utilized without going through the heating process that regular iron needed; thus, they were cold worked and named cold iron. It was also said to be the only thing outside of magic that could really hurt the Faye or any of the other creatures that came from Otherworld. Conventional weapons could injure them, but they healed quickly. That wasn't the case with cold iron. It poisoned the wound, making it near impossible to heal completely.

"They’re not that hard to find if you know what you’re looking for and are willing to pay," he said, closing the drawer.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I prefer using magic," I said, holding the knife back out to him. "I'm not comfortable with knives, and besides, where will I keep it, it's not like it will fit in my pocket."

"Find a place," he snapped. "I'm sorry," he quickly continued when I dropped the knife to my lap. "But you have to take this seriously, Des. There's not always enough time or the right circumstances for magic. Consider the knife a backup, okay."

Sorry, it seemed like we were saying that a lot to each other, maybe our relationship wasn’t going to recover as well as I’d hoped.

“I think I need to get back,” I said, staring down at the knife, running my finger across the soft leather case. Just the look of it made me uneasy. The mere thought of the blade slicing through flesh made me slightly nauseous. I'd keep it with me because he asked me to, but I doubted I would be able to bring myself to use it.

"Okay,” Donovan said, eyeing me for a moment. Sighing, he turned away. “Let me get my keys, and I'll take you home," he rummaged around in one of the drawers, pulling out a set of keys.

With a last glance around the room, I got up and followed him out, wondering what had happened to the carefree boy I’d known.

"And Des, thanks for coming to me this time," he said, holding the door as I walked past him. "I always regretted that you didn't before. I know you probably thought I couldn't help you, and you might have been right, but I can help you now if you let me."

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything as we walked down the long path towards the main house and the garage.

The ride back to Maggie's passed mostly in silence. Donovan looked over at me several times like he wanted to say something, but he’d just turn his attention back to the road. I leaned my head against the window, just wanting to rest my eyes, but exhaustion took over.

I was back in the garage, my heart racing as my cheek pressed down against the concrete. I could feel the weight of the creature on my back and the cold creeping through my body as my awen was slowly drained from me. A hand on my shoulder startled me awake.

“We’re here,” Donovan said softly, concern darkening his eyes as he watched me.

Rubbing my eyes, I tried to wipe away the last vestige of my dream, but the feeling of being drain still lingered, leaving my body feeling achy and weak. We were parked a few houses down from Maggie's, and I wasn’t surprised to see one of the Vanguard SUVs parked in the drive. Up to this moment, I’d forgotten about Maggie; hopefully, she had called them, at least that would mean she was alright, and if she hadn’t, Emily would have realized her bonding weave was gone, and probably would have shown up on her own.

"Do you need me to come in with you?" Donovan asked, eying the SUV.

"No, it's probably best if you don’t," I said, opening the passenger door and climbing out.

I waved to him from the porch to let him know he could go, but he continued sitting there. I don't know if he was more concerned about what Maggie and the Vanguard were going to do to me or if the creature was still hanging around. Slipping the knife into my back pocket, I pulled my shirt down over it and opened the door.

"Where have you been?" Maggie said as soon as I walked inside, her voice several octaves above its usual calm pitch.

She was coming out of the sitting room, Emily and Justin hot on her heels, all of them with dark looks on their faces.

"I had no choice," I blurted out. "That thing from the party followed me. If I hadn't entered the veil, it would have killed me. I never set foot in Otherworld, I promise, I was just in and out."

"Just in and out," Emily retorted, her face was tight and her eyes a little red like she'd been crying. "I lost track of you nearly six hours ago. Were you sitting in the veil that whole time?"

Six hours? Glancing at the grandfather clock ticking in the corner, I was shocked to see it was a little past one. I couldn’t have been at Donovan’s for more than an hour or so, had I really spent that much time in the veil?

"No, I didn't know if it was safe to come back here, so I went to a friend’s," I said defensively, hoping they wouldn't ask for said friend's name. I didn't want Donovan involved if he didn't have to be. It looked like Justin was about to ask where exactly I’d been, but Emily cut him off.

"So you were being attacked and running for your life, but you still had time to remove the bonding ward and enter the veil. Emily said, stepping closer, her red-rimmed eyes practically burrowing into me. Why had Emily been crying, was she that angry that it brought her to tears?

"Going through the veil removed your mark," I said.

"If you entered the veil with that on, you'd be dead," Emily said.

"I don't know what happened." It was only a partial lie. I couldn't really explain what had happened and I was worried that even if I could, they wouldn't believe me. "It just kind of unraveled and disappeared when I crossed over."

"Let me have a look." She practically ripped my arm off, pulling me towards her. Pushing up my sleeve, she placed her hand on my arm, threads of her awen extending from her fingers, brushing against my skin. I didn't recognize the particular weave, but I could guess what it was for. She was looking for the residue of my awen that would show I had intentionally removed the ward myself. When it came back with nothing, she glared at me without even offering an apology. Without removing her hand, she started a new bonding weave thought the strands where much thicker and brighter than the first time.

"Emily, don't." I heard Justin say, but it was too late.

Pain far worse than I had felt the first time radiated up to my shoulder, causing the muscles in my arm to cramp. I clenched my teeth against a scream. I yanked my arm away as soon as her grip slackened and took several steps back. At the same time, Justin stepped forward and pulled her back from me, anger tightening his mouth and eyes. He whispered something in her ear, and she quickly left into the kitchen, her shoulders shaking.

"She did that on purpose," I said, still rubbing my arm.

"She did. I'm sorry," Justin said. "She shouldn’t have acted like that. The matter will be addressed," he continued, placing his arm on my shoulder and steering me towards the sitting room.

He sounded genuinely apologetic, so I didn't press further.

"Did anything odd happen in the veil?" Justin asked once I was seated on the couch.

Anything odd. Like how I had come face to face with the guardians and come out unharmed. How afterward, I had felt completely safe in a place that made most people's blood run cold. "No, it was the same as it's always been," I said, unable to describe what had been different without sounding insane.

They must have believed me because they let the matter of the veil drop and instead focused on what happened in the shop. I explained falling asleep in Maggie’s office and waking up to find everyone gone and the creature in the gallery.

“I'm sorry," Maggie apologized, sitting heavily on the couch. "I left to drop some paperwork off at a friend's. I was only going to be gone for a few minutes, so I didn't wake you,” she said, patting my knee.

Neither of them liked that the creature had been able to move so easily through the wards, and the fact that it seemed to feed on the energy was even less well-received. I passed on my thoughts about the Banshee, but they didn’t seem to like it any more than Donovan had.

“Tish did a reading in the garage, and though the trail was faint, she would have recognized it if it had been a Banshee’s,” Justin said, shooting my theory down.

"Am I going to be in trouble?" I asked, looking down at my lap.

"No," Maggie said, placing an arm on my shoulder and pulling me in for a quick hug. "The evidence supports your story, so everything should be fine. When I got back and found the window broken, your purse by the back door, and you nowhere to be found, I didn't know what to think."

"I didn't mean to make you worry. I should have come straight here. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, but I think you should head up to bed now," Maggie said, standing up and pulling me up off the couch. "I’ve reinforced the wards, and the Vanguard’s going to station Agents outside, you have nothing to worry about.”

"But the wards didn't help in the shop," I said, rubbing my arm and glancing towards the door as if the creature was going to burst through.

"They slowed it down, and these are much stronger," Maggie said, trying to reassure me. "With agents on standby outside, that will be enough. You'll be fine," she said, pushing me towards the stairs.

I wanted to find a way to stay down with them without admitting I was scared to be alone, but I couldn't think of a reasonable excuse.

"I'm going to check on Emily." I heard Maggie tell Justin as I reluctantly climbed the stairs.

“Desirae,” Justin called out when I was about halfway up.

“Yeah,” I said, turning around.

He didn’t answer right away, instead, watching the way Maggie had gone.

“I suppose your friend gave you that.” He said, once he was sure Maggie was out of earshot, turning back to look and me, and pointedly glancing at the outline of the knife in my back pocket, his lips pulled tight. “Do you know how to use it?” He asked, sighing when I shook my head no. “I understand why you’d want it, so I won’t take it from you or mention it to the others, but just remember a cut from one of those is just as dangerous for us as it is the Faye, and you’re just as likely to cut yourself as the other person if you don’t know how to use it properly. When I have time, I’ll show you if you want, but until then, last resort, okay.”

“I honestly hope never to have to use it,” I said, sincerely, “And I promise last resort.” He just nodded and walked back to the sitting room.

Throwing my clothes into a corner, I pulled on a nightshirt before crawling into bed. I gathered the covers in tight and tried to convince myself everything was okay. That I was safe, after all, the Vanguard was here. That should make anyone feel safe, but every time I closed my eyes, that hideously scarred face flashed across my mind, and I found myself imagining I heard scraping at the window. It was hours before I finally drifted off to sleep.