It was the scream that woke me. I shot straight up before realizing it wasn't coming from me. Another high-pitched scream rang out, and then another, coming from the direction of the windows. Almost immediately following the screams, a loud crack of thunder reverberated against the apartment.

"Son of a—" A voice rang out in the dark, and I could hear feet hit hard against the floor. A shadow flashed across the room. It was Luke. He was out of bed and moving toward the windows.

Before I could say anything, he swung the closest window wide open and headed out onto the fire escape.

I pushed the covers off and headed toward the windows. It was raining outside. The water was coming down in sheets, and raindrops pelted my face as I leaned over the windowsill.

I could make out a group of people standing under the streetlight, surrounding a woman in the alley. The woman was lying on the ground with her hands pressed against her head. High-pitched screams were coming from her every few seconds.

Luke was going down there to confront them. Were they Triads?

"What's happening?"

I jumped at the sound of Darla's voice. I'd been so focused on the scene in the alley that I hadn't realized she was now standing next to me. We were wearing almost identical outfits, except her T-shirt was pink.

"A woman's in trouble. I think Luke went to help." My voice came out in a rush.

I couldn't stay inside and watch something awful happen to a helpless bystander—not this time. I made my way back to the couch and flipped on a lamp on the side table. I grabbed my shoes from the floor.

"You aren't going out there, are you?" Darla sounded scared.

"Your brother might need help." Though I wasn't sure what kind of help I could be. I had learned some healing arts—practices to soothe and mend, not maim and hurt. I wouldn't be much use in a fight. Death dealers might be bulletproof, but I was not.

"Do you have any weapons?" I asked while slipping on my shoes.

"Like a gun? No, we don't have guns in the house."

"What about a knife?" I headed toward the kitchen and spotted a baseball bat leaning against a cabinet. It was better than nothing. Bat in tow, I hurried toward the windows.

"You can't go out there, Colina." Darla grabbed my arm.

"He might need help."

"Luke can take care of himself."

"Against a gang? Stay here and call the cops." I pulled away from her. Baseball bat in hand, I went out over the windowsill and onto the fire escape.

We were two floors up. The rain seemed to be coming down even harder. I made my way down the metal stairs, bat over my shoulder. If I wasn't careful, I would lose my balance on the slick surface and do a header over the rails. I slowly inched forward until the stairs ended and then made my way down the already extended metal ladder. Unfortunately, it didn't go all the way to the alley floor. There was a six-foot drop to the bottom. I let my body fall and tried to remember to bend my knees as I landed. It wasn't a graceful descent. As I hit, I pitched forward and lost my balance, ending up sprawled face first in the mud.

I scrambled up, grabbed my dropped weapon, and headed toward the alley entrance with more resolve than courage.

Luke stood at the edge of the group.

"I told you to leave her alone," Luke said, the threat in his voice unmistakable.

The guy closest to him was big, much older, and dressed in dark jeans and a jacket with an orange and black bandana tied around his right arm. The guy turned and laughed. "Or what, man?"

"I'm only going to say it one more time. Walk away now before you get hurt," Luke demanded.

"Who's going to do the hurting? You?" shouted someone else from the group.

I had no idea what I planned to do once I made it to Luke's side, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other and hoped to Goddess a police car would cruise by any second. I was surprised that they were still talking—the scene looked one-sided with Luke facing half a dozen tough-looking guys. But Luke's lack of fear seemed to confuse them.

I didn't make it far. I'd only taken a few steps forward when another guy, even bigger than the last, stepped right in front of Luke.

This was it. The fighting was going to start. My breath caught in the back of my throat, but before the guy could lay a hand on him, Luke spun around, lifted his forearm, and smashed the guy on the side of the head. The guy went down hard.

The group turned in unison, all attention now focused on Luke. The woman could have scrambled away and made a run for it now that they were ignoring her, but she lay frozen on the ground. It was then that I realized all the guys wore orange and black bandanas. Luke was facing down the Triads. The situation had gone from bad to worse. Maybe if it was a general mugging or a bunch of hooligan teenagers out for a bit of mischief, Luke might have had a chance of scaring them off, but this was an organized gang that spent most of their time looking for mayhem. From what I read in the papers, they weren't above murder.

One of them shouted, "You just signed your death warrant!"

Luke stood his ground. "Death. Now that's something I know a thing or two about."

Luke raised his hands and started to speak in an unfamiliar language—the language of dark magic and spells. Light flickered from his fingers, and his eyes shone as if lit from within. His voice suddenly took on a lower, deeper tone until it didn't sound like him at all. Then a slew of words flew from his mouth, and the light shot out towards the gang.

I watched in horror as one face formed within the lights, then another. Luke's calling on spirits. A chill ran down the length of my body. I wasn't the only one to realize what was happening.

Someone cried out, "He's a death dealer!"

Death dealers commune with the dead that have not crossed over, especially the mage dead. That gives them frightening power. It is an easy power to abuse—victimizing the dead for their own ends—and the fear that they can bind immortal souls terrifies any who see them in action.

The gang began to scatter, and I didn't blame them—lights swirled around them in a circle, carrying whirling, formless faces. It was a freaky thing to behold. Heads and partial bodies were starting to form inside the lights. The expression on each ghostly face Luke summoned was full of pain and terror. Then the noise started: an ear-splitting screeching. He was calling up the unsettled dead—banshees.

I'd heard of banshees—they were the death dealers' most fear-inspiring magic. The rest of the magic clans and guilds viewed the very idea of them with horror, but to see these creatures shift out of the ether and take on a semi-solid form was something I never thought I would experience. They were the souls of those trapped between life and what lay beyond, ghosts that Luke had bound into a weapon. They flowed around him, blinking in and out of the material world and glittering with the dark magic that gave them form.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my arms were suddenly covered in goosebumps. I reached for the protection pouch I wore around my neck. My hands grasped at nothing but air. Used to wear, I reminded myself. I stopped wearing the pouch when I stopped being a healer.

The banshees began filling the alley, but there was no place for them to go. I dropped the baseball bat and took quick steps backward until I felt a brick wall behind me. They had me cornered like a rat in a cage.

The banshees moved faster and faster around the gang. The guys were fleeing, and as they ran, the lights followed, surrounding them, circling them. Voices full of panic filled the air. I looked toward the woman Luke had initially come to save. She was still on the ground, but she'd raised her head, looked at the chaos around her, and started screaming again. Her screams mixed with the shrieks of the banshees.

I should have been freaking out. I should have been shrieking in horror like the woman, but instead, I sat as though spellbound. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scene before me.

Rain streamed down my face, and my hair clung to my cheeks and fell into my eyes. I pushed it aside and watched as blue streaks of light broke off from attacking a gang member and began heading in my direction. Within the blue lights, I could see partial forms—the unsettled spirits. I focused on the light closest to me and immediately regretted it. In its center was a shape, a form that was almost human or, rather, the forgotten memory of something that had once been human. It had long arms that ended in sharp claws and an angular face with only gaping shadows for eyes and a mouth. Its thin torso ended in shreds of mist, which trailed behind it as it flew through the air. The banshee howled as it floated my way.

Don't ever look into a banshee's eyes, Colina. It was a warning that had been instilled in me since childhood.

"What'll I see if I look in its eyes, Pa?"

"Death. And when you look at death, child, it can take hold of you and suck you into the ether sea."

Remembering my father's words, I dutifully closed my eyes, feeling the energy swirl around me. It surrounded me, and as it did, a loud screech filled my ears. To my horror, I realized something was touching me. I froze, filled with fear and panic. The banshee teased my hair and slid across my skin, and where it touched me, I felt a sharp pain followed by a burning sensation. It crawled across my right forearm and then brushed my cheek. I cried out. The compulsion to open my eyes and see the nightmare surrounding me was so very strong.

After a moment, the world suddenly went still. Another high-pitched, bone-chilling cry sounded, but it seemed farther away this time. More silence...another screech. With my eyes still tightly closed, I counted the seconds between the cries and willed the banshee near me to disappear.

A minute, maybe more, passed and there was no sound. No movement my ears could detect. I decided to risk it. I opened one eye and then the other. Three long, ugly scratches ran across my forearm. I lifted my hand to my cheek and felt raised welts—the banshees actually touched me. I didn't know they could do that. I'd heard tales of their soulless cries, but I'd never seen one before. If this is the type of power the death dealers wielded, it was powerful magic.

The alley was now empty except for Luke. I made out the back of the woman fleeing in the darkness through a sheet of rain. She was making her way onto a well-lit side street. The gang members were all long gone. Luke was down on his knees in the mud.

I pushed myself up and made my way to his side. "That was some show," I said, not hiding the relief in my voice.

When Luke didn't answer, I put my hand on his shoulder and watched in shock as he slumped forward.

It took my mind a moment to catch up with what was actually going on. A pool of blood was forming underneath him, streaming out onto the dirt. I turned his body over and looked in horror at the gaping hole on the left side of his stomach. I sat staring, unable to move as other images rushed through my mind.

Blood and pain-filled screams.

I covered my ears with my hands, although the screams were only in my head. My thoughts raced out of control, sending waves of adrenaline through my body.

They're all dying, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

I don't know how long I stayed immobile, the images keeping me frozen, until Darla's voice broke the spell. I watched her make her way down the ladder. She was calling out her brother's name.

I sat shaking, rain pouring down my face. Luke. I had to help him. The blood had become a river, snaking its way down the pavement. He was dying, and I was doing nothing, lost in memories. I took one shaky breath and then another. With sheer will I forced back the panic, the out-of-control horror that was racing through me. This time I could do something—I would do something. No one would die while I stood by helpless again.

I rushed forward and placed my shaking hands on his wound, causing him to moan. His face was ashen, but his eyes flickered open for a moment. He could feel pain, which meant he was still alive.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Goddess divine. Mother of the Earth. Thee who brings forth all life, hear my plea. Help me. I repeated the mantra over and over in my head, trying to push away the thoughts of doubt and fear in the back of my mind.

Nothing happened.

I could do this—I could heal him. I took a deep breath and concentrated. I waited for the familiar feeling of healing power to come into my body, a power I'd been born with and trained to use. I waited. I took another deep breath, and another.

You can't do this. You can't help anyone anymore, the words whispered across my mind. I knew they were true. There was too much fear, too much anger coursing through my mind and body. I couldn't find the serenity I needed in order to heal.

You can't help him, the words screamed inside me, but I pushed them back.

I focused and said the words out loud, this time with more determination, my voice pleading with Mother Earth to help me. Over and over, I said the words, and as I did, my mind reached out for the energy that used to come so easily to me, energy that swirled around in the ether sea. But still I was powerless. He was dying.