Shelagh sat in the tackroom, mug of coffee in hand, and heaved a sigh. "Well, that's the last of them gone. I think this week's gone quite well. How do the rest of you feel?"

"Knackered!" said Tina with a grin.

There was a chuckle from the rest: Claire sprawling on a pile of rugs in one corner; Julie cleaning a stripped-down bridle, balancing her coffee on one knee; Gwyn looking out of the doorway to where Sugar and Snow were grazing in the orchard.

"Shall I bring those two in?" she asked.

"Better had," said Shelagh, "or they'll be down with laminitis again.

"Poor little sprats," said Claire. "It must seem mean – they get onto some decent grass for two hours, must think they're in Heaven, and then some miserable toad puts them into the barn for the night with nothing but a section of hay!"

Gwyn grinned. "Cruel to be kind," she said, picking up two lead ropes. "I'll be off home soon," she added. "My parents are due back later this evening; I'd like to be there when they arrive."

***

The house was very quiet. Gwyn dumped her bag in the kitchen and put the kettle on, glancing at the clock. Shaka paced up and down the hall, uneasy.

"What's your problem?" Gwyn asked, looking at him. The wolfhound lay down on the rug, sighing.

The silence seemed somehow oppressive – unusually so. Gwyn was generally at home with silence. The ticking of the clock, usually barely audible, began to seem loud.

Gwyn shut her eyes, leaning back against the larder door.

Vivid images flashed, nightmarish, through her brain: noise, jarring, screams somehow muffled, and then a crushing blankness. This has already happened, something in her head seemed to be saying.

She jerked away from the larder, shaking her head to clear the after-image.

"What the Hell...?"

She found herself shaking, and wandered into the sitting room, turning the light up full, needing light. She drew the curtains, and filched a cigarette from the silver case on the mantelpiece.

Daddy wouldn't be best pleased, she thought. Mind you, it wouldn't be the first time. She lit it, her hands trembling. Shaka had followed her into the room, and pressed against her legs, quivering, his tail down.

***

Gwyn finished the third mug of coffee and looked up at the clock again. Half past eleven...they should have been home by now.

There was the sound of footsteps on the front path; a knock at the door. The hairs stood up all down Gwyn's back as she got to her feet.

Gwyn looked out through the spyhole. The two police officers – a man and a woman – were clearly visible under the porch light.

She opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Miss Law?"

"Yes."

"Guinevere Law?"

"Yes."

"I'm afraid we have some bad news. May we come in, please?"

***

Funny just how quickly three weeks can go, thought Gwyn, sitting with one hand on the phone. Sweat trickled down the small of her back. Somewhere in the recesses of her brain she was aware of the throaty purr of the MG in the road outside as she dialled the stables' number.

Come on, Shelagh...answer the phone.

"Hello, Winscombe Riding School."

"Shelagh?"

"Is that you, Gwyn?"

"Yes. Look, I'm sorry I haven't been over – "

"Good God, we never expected you, under the circumstances. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"I hope so ..." God, I really hope so, she thought. "Shelagh; I need a favour. Urgently."

"Fire away. What can I do?"

"I've got a big problem. As from next week I've got nowhere to live – Uncle Paul's my legal guardian, and because he's offered to keep me at his house the council won't house me anywhere. He refuses to pay the rent on this house just so I can stay here – I really can't go and live with him, Shelagh. I know you're looking for working pupils ... can you take me on? There's nothing he can do to stop me being in live-in training, if I can support myself I'll be okay... can you take me on?"

"I can do better than that – I can take you on as staff, Gwyn. You know at least as much as most qualified staff, and we can put you through the AI exam within a few weeks. When do you want to come?"

"Would now be okay?"

"What, tomorrow?"

"No, I mean right now. I need to get out of this house. I need company – I'm going spare here."

"Right now...will you be in time to catch the late bus?"

"Yes, if I run."

"I'll have the kettle on. Do be careful – you've heard our news about the local nasty?"

"I've heard. But Shaka will be with me, anyway."

"Yes. See you soon – and welcome aboard!"

"Thanks, Shelagh."

***

Bobby leaned against the front door, his ear to the keyhole.

Oh, yeh!....Gotcha now...Ambush!...You are in trouble now, sweetheart....you are in DEE-EEP shit. Love it! Yeah.

He grinned, chewed thoughtfully on his lip; tapped his hand against his hip – tap, ta-tap TAP! ...Go for it!.. he felt the smile lines crinkle round the corners of his eyes and his eyebrows lifted for a second. Oh, what fun! Yeah. He turned back down the path and hopped over the door of the MG, letting off the handbrake and running it silently down the hill.

Oh, a-hunting we will go ... on your trail, sweetheart, on your trail. Come to Cousin Bobby – kitten – I'll be there ahead of you.

Two girls on the corner watched as he started the car. He grinned at them, lifting a hand.

"Nice!" said one.

"Just a bit," agreed the other, grinning.

Then he was gone. The breeze of the car's passing blew their skirts round their legs.

***

Gwyn got off the bus into the darkness, Shaka close to her heels. Only a half-mile walk to the stables. She hitched her bag over one shoulder, and let Shaka off his lead.

"Stay close," she whispered to him, and set off towards the lane turning. The breeze rustled through the treetops as she rounded the corner of the lane. A car turned off the main road and drew alongside. She turned her head.

"Want a lift?" asked Bobby with a grin. "Hop in."

"I can walk, thanks," she said, laying a hand on Shaka's collar.

"I'll keep you company," said Bobby. He idled the car alongside at walking pace.

"Bugger off," said Gwyn.

Bobby stopped the car and got out. "Don't be daft."

She saw the glitter in his eyes; the lazy smile as he looked down at her. He blocked her way, rocking gently on the balls of his feet.

Shaka growled, the hackles lifting on his neck.

Gwyn stepped around Bobby. He turned as she walked past, feeling the excitement building up as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Stop there!" he said. She slapped his hand away and turned to face him.

"Love it!" he said, grinning. "Do it again!"

"I'm not stopping. You stop!" said Gwyn. "You just stay right where you are and leave me alone!"

"Make me. Tell you what – I'll do you a deal. I'll give you a count of twenty. Yeh?" His eyes held hers, laughing. Play the game, sweetheart, play the game...

"Piss off." She turned away and walked down the road. He watched her go.

...eighteen, nineteen, twenty.... here I come, ready or not!

Shaka heard the footsteps just before Gwyn did, and whirled to meet Bobby, the growl starting deep in his throat. Gwyn tried to grab him, but he sprang away from her and raced back down the lane. Gwyn saw the flicker as the moonlight briefly caught the blade that appeared as if from nowhere in Bobby's hand, the grin on his face as he crouched to meet the dog's spring...

"SHAKA! NO, not Shaka too, you bastard!"

Shaka crumpled as the knife whipped across his throat, and Gwyn turned and ran, tears blinding her ... magic dragon, where are you now? WHERE ARE YOU?

***

Somewhere, worlds away, a silver dragon lifted his head as if listening. The Mists rolled around him.

– Raffi, he said, – there is work for us.

He turned his head to gaze at the other dragon, slate grey. Raffi looked up.

– Work? For me too? You sure, Gay?

– Quite sure. One for me and one for you....

***

...Gwyn was running down the side of the road, her breath catching in her throat, the night air burning her chest, and tears on her cheeks cold in the wind of her passing. The footsteps behind were gaining on her with every step.

The recall was total – this WAS the dream – but now she knew who the man was, too. She knew the dragon was coming (how the hell can there be a dragon?) – but would it get there too late?

– Hold on, hold on.... keep going, I'm on the way... just hold out a little longer... the dragon's voice was within her mind, yet as clear as if it were singing in her ears.

She felt a rush of air around her, as if driven down by mighty wings, as Bobby's hand closed on her flying coat, dragging her to her knees...

She screamed ... and heard her own scream echoed by Bobby's harsher yell. "Bloody hellfire!"

Bobby released the coat, cowering by the roadside, looking up into the blazing eyes of something from his worst nightmares.

– On your feet, mate, whispered a voice in his head, and he knew the dragon had spoken to him. A strange compulsion brought him scrambling to his feet to face the dragon which hovered above, its neck stretched down towards him, its eyes afire with a cold light which seemed to look right through him. He felt the whoosh of air as a second dragon appeared and landed close to where Gwyn had fallen; it looked towards him for a moment, a half smile in its eyes.

– Oh, a-hunting we will go... it sang, half to him and half to the silver dragon, which chuckled.

– Run, said the silver dragon within his mind; I'll give you a count of twenty; play the game, Bobby, play the game ...

Bobby ran; ran back towards the car; ran as if all hell had been let loose behind him. The silver dragon watched him get into the car and start it up, fumbling with his keys. He dragged the car round in a screeching turn and was out on the main road in an instant. There was no other traffic; the world seemed to have stopped around him.

He heard the voice of the dragon in his head – eighteen, nineteen, twenty...here I come, ready or not! and whimpered, knowing it was coming...on your trail, Bobby...do you like it this way? Hot enough for you?... Yeah? he heard its quiet laughter.

He felt the air burn around him, heard his hair singe beside his ears; felt the intense heat without being burned; felt the enormous expanding pressure as the petrol tank blew, and the somehow incredible total absence of sound, the cessation of all awareness; felt his life drifting quietly away from him into the darkness ... there is nothing more... is this all there is? what was left of him wondered as it dissipated in the breeze.

The silver dragon hovered for a moment over the wreck of the car, then banked in the breeze, turning on a wingtip to fly back down the lane. He settled lightly by the grey dragon.

– How is she? he asked.

– She will be okay. The grey dragon gave him the dragon equivalent of a whimsical smile. What happened to the car, Gay?

– Who knows? What does happen to cars?...wiring fault?

– I think that's houses, actually, Gay.

– Well, houses, cars – what's the difference?

– Don't you think you may just have exceeded your spec.? Death's not in the job description – unless you know something I don't....

– I'll risk it, Raffi. I'll risk it. He passed his tongue over the tip of his nose.

Raffi grinned. – You already did. Shall we go?

Gay cocked his head sideways. – You go ahead. I have some unfinished business to attend to....

Raffi sucked air through his front teeth. – Careful, careful! Two excesses in a day might just be pushing it!

Gay smiled thoughtfully. – You always did see too much, Raffi. But my thanks for the friendly concern. In this case, I might just get away with it. Besides, this is nothing that we can't handle. See you in the Mists.

– The shape might be inappropriate, old friend.

– Very true. Gay's outline shimmered in the darkness.

"Better?" asked the man who was left standing where the silver dragon had been.

– Infinitely so.

"Wings? Yes/no?"

– No need to ham it up, Gay, really. Take care.

"Shall do. Look after her."

***

Jackie looked down, puzzled, at the appointments book on the desk.

"Don't remember that one," she mused. But it was there – and in her own writing. She glanced up at the clock. And should be arriving at any time.

The door swung open and a man in a light coloured suit stepped in, smiling at her.

"You must be Jackie." He held out a hand, and she shook it, making the mistake of looking into the eyes ...what an amazing colour...she thought.

"And you are?..."

"Mr Gabriel."

"From which company, sir?"

"Heaven Scent. I'm expected, I think."

"Yes, ... yes, of course. Go on in." She blushed flusteredly and pointed towards the inner door with one hand. "I'll fetch a cup of coffee."

Paul looked up as his office door opened. Oh Lord, another bloody pansy, he thought, fixing a smile onto his face. Gabriel sat down casually on the chair beside the desk.

"I have something you may be interested in," he said, pulling a data stick out of his jacket pocket. "Allow me."

He inserted the stick into the computer.

"This won't take long."

Paul sat, wordless, and watched. Watched himself on that first of so many 'babysitting' evenings. ... "You ticklish here, kitten?"... watched Bobby biting the head off the hamster, and himself covering up for him ... watched Gwyn's nightmares ... watched...

"There is plenty of evidence against you," said Gabriel quietly. "It is all there for the Judge."

Paul swivelled his chair angrily, and reached into the desk drawer. He pulled out a cheque book, riffling its pages. His eyes were hard.

"Judges and juries, my friend, can be bought," he said.

Boy, do I have news for you. Gabriel smiled. "Not this one – mate. See you in Court."

----