I bolted upright and opened my eyes. It took me a few moments to realize where I was. I don't know what woke me this time. No screams filled the air. There was no commotion in the room. Everyone was sound asleep and safe for the moment. I reached up and touched my cheeks. They were wet. I'd been crying in my sleep again. It was the aftermath of a nightmare that was always the same. Most nights I woke suddenly with my heart pounding out of my chest and tears streaming down my face.

The tiniest sound came from my right. I didn't want to turn, but I forced myself to look. A large shadow loomed only a few feet away. A scream formed on my lips, but I swallowed it when the lights flickered on, and I saw Luke standing by the side table. He had one arm pushed against the back of the chair so he could keep himself upright.

"You shouldn't be out of bed." I threw off my blanket and started to get up.

He waved me back. "Stop fussing. I'm feeling better." To prove it, he straightened up and walked over to me. "I heard someone crying out. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It was just a nightmare."

"That must have been one heck of a dream."

I looked up at him. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"You don't need to apologize. You look shaken. Do you want me to get you a glass of water?"

"You're the injured one. I should be getting you things."

He sat down next to me. "I told you, I feel better. Whatever you gave me helped. The pain isn't as bad."

I leaned over, my hand reaching out to examine the bandage. "Is it still bleeding?"

He pushed my fingers back. "Colina, stop fussing. I'm fine. You've been crying."

Ashamed, I turned my face away from him. "It's nothing."

"Tell me what's wrong."

Even if I wanted to, I didn't know if I could. If I were able to find the right words, could I actually say them out loud?

"What trouble brought you here?" he asked, his voice soft. "Why did you stop being a healer?" He leaned closer. "What happened?"

It was unsettling, having him so close. I scooted back, putting distance between us. "You don't have to know my reasons for wanting to learn. You just have to teach me."

"I would like to know your intent."

I looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"What do you plan to do with the abilities you get once you train and learn how to use them?" He leaned back and watched me. "Look, it's not in our nature to train people so they can go off and wreak havoc in the world. We usually know a bit about someone's background before we show them the way of the death dealers. Once they learn, they must join one of the death dealer guilds. We're open to everyone who's serious about learning and becoming one of our kind, but we try to keep from teaching our skills to those with violent tendencies or homicidal backgrounds."

"Are you worried I have a homicidal background?" When he didn't answer right away, I continued. "And what if I do? You already agreed to help me."

"I did." He nodded.

"You don't know anything about me." It was true. He didn't even know my last name.

"Only because you won't tell me about yourself." His expression was sullen.

"Then why take me on? It can't be the money. By the looks of this place, you and your family are extremely well off."

"Money isn't a problem for us."

"Then why did you agree to train me?" I demanded.

"Because you were so desperate." He inched toward me. "Because I saw something in your eyes that told me you need to do this."

I turned my face away again and said quietly, "And if the reason I need to do this is so I can go off and kill someone?"

He moved closer and put his hand on my shoulder. "Then I would be curious as to why. If we're going to take this path together, you have to trust me."

"I've said I'll do whatever it takes. Just tell me what I have to do, and I'll do it." Our hips were now touching. I could feel the heat of his body against mine.

With gentle fingers, he turned my chin toward him until we were facing each other. "That's what I mean. Why? Why are you so eager to become a death dealer and throw away the life you had as a healer?" He reached out and pushed a strand of hair from my eyes. "I don't know what it is about you, but I feel this connection."

I realized I was holding my breath. I exhaled and tried to think of something to say.

His face was just inches from mine now. His dark eyes were searching my face. "Do you feel it?" His fingers brushed against my temple, then moved slowly down my face.

His fingers touched the scratches on my right cheek. Marks left from the banshee. He gently grazed the welts. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

The breath caught in the back of my throat. His fingers lingered on my cheek. His touch sent tiny electric sparks down my skin. He was so close I could feel the heat of his whole body against mine.

He is a death dealer! Came a warning from within my mind. Someone I should fear, someone I should despise. Someone who should not make my pulse quicken.

He had looked at me before with both anger and amusement, but I wasn't sure what emotion now blazed from those dark eyes. They were filled with such intensity, and as he watched me, his lips slowly curved up into a smile. It was the first time I had seen him really smile. As quickly as that smile had appeared, it disappeared.

Luke suddenly pushed off the couch and moved away. When he looked back at me, I couldn't read his expression.

"I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well," he said, turning his face away.

Before I could say a word, he turned off the light and left the room.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I sat on the couch looking out into the darkness, suddenly feeling very alone.

***

The morning was chaotic. Darla rushed around, making breakfast in between fussing over her brother's injuries. The more she worried about him, the more annoyed he seemed. I didn't say much, but quietly watched the pair of them while I consumed a large plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and two helpings of grape jellied toast.

Darla begged to come with us to the healer, but Luke refused. He reassured her that the Triads are a nocturnal group that was probably off sleeping the day away. She finally gave in and decided to stay behind. Honestly, I think he was just trying to get away from her excessive mothering.

I wore a borrowed green sweater and a pair of dark jeans that would have fallen off if I hadn't cinched them tightly at my waist with an oversize, brown leather belt. Once again, my outfit was courtesy of Darla.

Luke's long hair was tied back and he sported a black, long-sleeved T-shirt—this one minus the red phoenix and flames—along with a black jean jacket, gray jeans, and black boots. He looked a bit dangerous and girls on the street were turning to check him out as we walked by.

He was moving better this morning, but the going was still slow. We made our way to the corner and hailed a cab. A few miles later, we were out of the cab and weaving our way through the crowds. We walked for a bit along the main thoroughfare and then took a left and headed down an alley. The alley part didn't thrill me—not after our late-night adventure. I kept looking over my shoulder, worried we were being followed. Out of one alley we went and then down another until we suddenly turned a corner and found ourselves in a seedier part of town. Signs of different shapes and sizes hung over a few dozen shops lining the street. All the shops had iron bars covering their windows.

I hadn't spent a lot of time in the city, but it was easy to spot which establishment housed the healer. Going by the designs on the sign and the colorful tapestry in the window, she was a traveler. Travelers' magic is a bit different than mine. My heritage is Scottish, which means each healer in my family is part of a clan. We sometimes did magic outside the family for money, but only under special circumstances.

Travelers have a different set of rules. They work mostly for money, often traveling around, going wherever their services are needed. For the right price, they will heal you. The early travelers chose a path very different from most of the mage societies. They became nomads, never staying in one place long enough to attract attention and using weak versions of their talents to amuse the non-mages and to make themselves seem nonthreatening. They hid in plain sight, surviving over the centuries on wit and charm.

I was surprised to see that a traveler had set up shop in town. Many cities have ordinances about healers and soothsayers. Truly gifted healers in the city both clan and travelers usually work through clinics or hospitals. That made me worry, since often those who set up shop for themselves aren't the real thing. They're charlatans.

Not everyone wants to step foot into a hospital where they have to show their ID. Most of the fringe population like to stay off the radar, which means they have to use services that aren't officially approved. Using people outside the mandates comes with its own set of risks. Would the herbs they gave you cure your pneumonia and make you better? Or would you waste away in sickness and head back for help only to find that the healer had closed up shop and moved on to another location?

"Is this place for real?" I asked, quickening my steps. I wanted to get this over with.

"She's truly gifted. My guild has used her many times," Luke answered, stopping to catch his breath.

I went ahead of him and opened the door to a jingle of bells. Lavish colors covered everything, and exotic materials could be seen on the walls, pillows, and at my feet. Half a dozen different throw rugs covered the floor. The effect of one rug's zebra pattern next to another's purple circles overlaid with red stripes was dizzying. The proprietor certainly had the old-world atmosphere down to a science.

"How may I help you children?" A weathered and lined face greeted us from behind a curtain of black beads.

"Mother, we're in need of your services." Luke held out his palm, which held a small group of gold and silver coins.

The woman was dressed in a long, purple skirt and a black cotton blouse, and her hair was pulled up under a purple scarf. She motioned for us to sit down in one of the four red striped, overstuffed chairs scattered across the room. As she moved her arms, I noticed that both her wrists were covered in gold bangles.

"Make yourselves comfortable. Who's in need of my help?" She turned toward me and asked, "You?" For an old woman she moved quickly, and before I could respond, her hand reached out and grabbed my forearm. "I see much pain in you, child. Did you come to unburden yourself? I can do that. I'm not just a healer of the flesh. I can take away the pain you feel in the very depth of your soul."

The way the old woman looked at me made my skin crawl. Could she really sense my pain? The internal wounds I carried were fresh, and the nightmare I went through came buzzing to the front of my mind. I tried to push back the anguish, tried not to think of it, because I knew that if I allowed myself to fully dwell on it, I would start bawling hysterically and curl up into a fetal position on the floor.

The only thing that mattered now was staying alive, and the only way to make sure that happened was to get the dark mage who agreed to teach me healed. I pulled my arm away and pointed toward Luke. "He's the injured one."

She didn't move, but instead edged closer until her face was only a few inches from mine. "You're like me, yes? You're in the trade? I can see it on you." She reached out again and grabbed my arm and turned my wrist. Her eyes lit up at the image of the swallow. "Yes, I see you're one of us, but the pain, it's shifting your power. You've lost your balance. Let me help you regain yourself."

I let my anger show in my voice. "I'm not in need of your services. He's the one with the wound. He needs your help."

"You couldn't heal him?" she asked.

I turned my face away, ashamed. I should have been able to heal him, to close up the wound, but I hadn't been able to. I wasn't sure why my powers weren't working. I looked back at the woman. She was peering at me with open curiosity. Was she right? Had the pain, the loss, the hate, the anger—all the foreign emotions that were now swirling inside me—somehow messed up my power?

She let go of me and walked over to Luke, extending her palm. He put the coins into her hand, and they disappeared into the pockets of her purple skirt.

"Lift your shirt," she demanded. Luke obeyed. "Ah, I see." She closed her eyes and ran her hand over his side.

He flinched as her fingers made contact with the bandages.

"Whatever did this went deep. There's damage to both the muscle and tissue. Was the weapon enchanted?" she asked.

"No. It was a regular switchblade," he answered.

She nodded, walking to a shelf, and searching through bottles before returning with a white cloth and a glass container filled with orange liquid. Placing the bottle and cloth on the table in front of him, she said, "I'll use my abilities first, but afterward, you'll need to use this." She pointed at the bottle. "On the wound. Once a day. Just dab it on."

I wondered if whatever was in the bottle actually was some sort of medicine.

As the thought crossed my mind, she turned and frowned in my direction. "I'm not a fake. I'm the real thing, child."

Were my thoughts so easy to read? Had the events of the night frazzled me so much that my defenses were down? Was the old woman powerful enough to break through my mental barriers?

The woman closed her eyes and reached out, and her right hand covered Luke's bandage. Minutes ticked on, and nothing happened. Then, suddenly, a loud sigh left the woman's mouth, and as it did, a soft buzz filled the room. The drapes rustled ever so slightly as if moved by a breeze, but there were no open windows that I could detect.

The healer had some kind of medallion in her left hand. The tighter she clutched it, the louder the buzz and the more the drapes fluttered. Was the piece of metal the source of her abilities? Traveler magic was decidedly different from my clan's. We drew our energy from the earth or from the sky.

As quickly as they had started, the buzz and breeze were gone. The room stood silent. The old woman stumbled a bit as she moved away from Luke, catching her balance on the back of the chair.

She spoke without turning in my direction. "No, child, my magics don't come from any object. But it helps to focus, helps bring me focus, you understand?" She looked directly at me. "We're not so unalike, your people and mine."

She turned and faced Luke. "It will itch as it heals. The marks will close in about three days and then you'll only have a small scar. But a scar can be attractive on a man."

Luke lowered his shirt and stood up. He reached out to the old woman.

She grasped his hand in hers.

"Thank you, I appreciate your help. May you be well," he said.

"And you," she replied.

I stood up and turned and headed toward the door. I had my hand on the door handle when the old woman caught up with me, her fingers digging into my shoulder. She might be old, but her grip was like steel.

She leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Child, I know what happened and I know pain is burning inside you because of it. But if you are determined to go down this path, then your only chance at success will come if you allow yourself to trust him."

I spun around. She was talking about Luke. She wanted me to trust a guy I just met? A member of the Phoenix Guild? Tell him my secrets? I took a step back, tears of panic swelling in my eyes.

She motioned toward Luke. "If you want the power, you must tell him your story. Let him in. He has to see the very essence of you. To lead you down his dark path, he must be able to read your heart and soul. It's the only way. And, child, be careful. They're looking for you." From within the folds of her skirt she brought a red velvet pouch tied with black leather. She reached out and put it in my hand.

I was too shocked by her words to respond. I had no choice but to take the pouch as she forced it into my palm.

"For your protection. Take it. Keep it close to you." Her eyes suddenly looked unfocused. "I see you swimming on the edge of a great darkness. The awakening is coming upon you, child. It will try to consume you. The pouch, the protection, it won't be enough, but it may help."

We stood next to each other in frozen silence as the seconds ticked away. They're looking for me. For a moment, my heart stopped. I hadn't been sure they would come for me, but after what happened, I feared the worst. Now this old woman was telling me it was true. The fear burst forward again, filling my mind and body. I could hear my breath coming out in short rasps. I looked over at Luke. He was watching us. I wasn't sure if he'd overheard what she'd told me.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my thoughts while forcing back tears. I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't lose it, not here. I looked at her and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I don't have any coins to pay you for the pouch."

She reached up and patted my cheek. "Don't worry about paying me. Stay alive, child. You must save yourself. And, whatever you do, don't forget who you are."

I clutched the bag to my chest and ran out the door.