The rest of the cab ride Luke seemed distracted. He spent most of it looking out the window. When he talked to me, I could see the lines of worry etched on his face. He might be speaking with me, but his thoughts were clearly with his sister. I reached out and took his hand in mine, trying to offer what little comfort I could. I knew there was nothing I could say to make the situation better.

My other hand slid across the material of the seat and my fingers grazed across something sticky. I had a moment of regret about leaving my car behind, but there was a possibility that the people after me knew my car by sight, and I hadn't wanted to make the job of tracking me down any easier. But it hadn't mattered. They had somehow found me anyway.

I turned and watched the passing landscape through the window. We were heading out of town, past the suburbs and into the country. "Your cousin, she doesn't live in town?" I asked, my voice full of surprise.

"No, she refuses to be a city girl. She's an architect. She converts old barns into houses."

It wasn't abnormal for a mage to live in isolation. Many still preferred the privacy of the countryside, a throwback to the hundreds of years that our kind spent hiding from the world. Like most people looking for open space, many of them ended up in the vast, unpopulated territories of the West.

One of the things I learned as a child was the history of our people. I knew mages used to live as an accepted part of the population—they were the shamans and healers. This arrangement continued for millennia, with the mage-born living among their more mundane brothers and sisters. But the whole thing fell apart, at least in the Western world, with the rise of the church. The church saw village wise women as a threat to its power and authority and declared them heretics. Church zealots hunted all mages, killing many and driving the world into its long Dark Age. Because of the need to go "underground," so to speak, the mages formed their own isolated communities, clans, and guilds. They banded together for safety as the world changed around them, happy to be forgotten and live in peace. They worked in this isolation, developing unique skills and powers, and eventually becoming the clans and guilds of today.

I belonged to a clan, a group of people that pledged to protect me and shelter me, but I knew they weren't strong enough to stand against the men who were after me. My clan's magic wasn't much use in combat. All they could do is die by my side. I couldn't take that danger home—I wouldn't let any more people I cared about die. But I couldn't help wondering what the clan would think of me once they found out what I was doing.

We drove and drove some more. I lost track of time. The farther we went, the more rural the countryside became. Fences lined the road, cows grazed in pastures, and farmhouses and barns riddled the landscape. It was beautiful landscape and at another time, I would have enjoyed exploring the countryside, but I was bruised, scared, and tired. I tried to keep my mind focused on the passing landscape, but thoughts of the rituals kept searing across my brain. Would I survive the first ritual? And if I did, what were the other rituals I would have to endure? A part of me wanted to demand more details from Luke, but knowing brought fear, and I didn't want to be afraid. I wanted to have the courage to go through with them.

The cab turned off the main highway and headed down a dirt road. We passed a creek and a few rolling hills, until the cab finally came to a stop in front of a large, red barn.

I grabbed my stuff, and we got out. Luke paid the driver, and the cab took off.

"Pagan keeps a key in a fake rock. My cousin loses her keys a lot." Luke gave me a ghost of a smile. "She left her car behind. The keys for it have to be inside somewhere."

I nodded my head and followed him up a gray brick path.

Luke retrieved the key to the house, and we walked to the large, white framed door. When he opened it and we walked in, I was speechless. The place was breathtaking. The barn looked like the others we'd passed on the road, but his cousin had converted it from a home for animals to a luxurious living area. It was a big, wide open space with high ceilings.

My eyes wandered around the living room. A sizeable gray carpet filled the area, and the biggest leather L shaped couch I had ever seen dominated the space. Antiques were scattered around. A humongous stone fireplace covered one wall. On the other side of the room, a rustic dining table that looked like it could seat twenty people stood next to an old-fashioned kitchen with a large, red stove.

"This is unbelievable," I said.

Luke looked around the place with pride on his face. "One day I plan to have her convert one for me. When I'm older, settled, and married."

I could picture Luke and his future wife moving into their converted barn. My stomach turned. The thought filled me with unexpected envy.

I had dreams of a future once. But all those dreams died with my family. Now the only path before me was full of darkness.

I was silent too long—Luke was giving me an inquiring look. I tried to force a smile on my face, but I couldn't quite pull it off. "And this older you, is he going to run the magic shop?"

His voice was serious when he answered. "No, that's my uncle's place. He doesn't have any kids, and I know he'd like to leave it to one of us, but it's not the kind of thing I can see myself doing forever. Darla loves the shop. I wouldn't be surprised if she ends up running it one day."

"If you're not running the shop, what'll you do?"

"This older me? I'm not sure." He gave me a smile. "How about the older you? What plans do you have for her?"

The words "be a healer" started to come out of my mouth, but I stopped them. I wasn't sure I could heal again. Was the traveler, right? Had the pain of losing my family shifted my powers? I had no goal now but revenge. And what will I do if I fulfill that one destiny? There would be no going back to the clan once I became a death dealer. No one would welcome me with open arms once I was part of the Phoenix Guild and that was assuming the guild let me in. Would the Phoenix Guild even want me? And even if they wanted me, could they accept me? If they did, what kind of wrath would having me around bring down upon them?

Healers lived by the mantra, 'Do no harm', it was part of the sacred oath, and once you were a healer, you were one for your entire lifetime. No one ever turned their back on the profession. Healers had an easier time living in the non-mage world, working in the medical community where they could use their powers without drawing attention. The clans lived almost in plain sight in larger cities. We were taught only a few defensive magics and were protected mainly by the good will of whatever communities we served. If I could learn to heal again, I could go someplace far away and start my life over.

I could change my name and go underground, but what did I know of living on the fringe of society? I'd always had a stable, loving home. My family wasn't rich, but I'd never gone without food or a roof over my head. I was young and resourceful—I could get a job in a clinic or a hospital. I could make enough to support myself. But that could only happen if I walked away from the dark path I had started down.

I knew for sure none of my kind had ever dared to do something stupid like ask to be trained in the Death Arts. A healer using dark magic would be a threat to the entire clan. And what would my clan's reaction be once they found out what I had done, the lengths I had gone to for my revenge? I would be shunned at the least, and most likely imprisoned.

But maybe I didn't have to worry about any of this at all, maybe I wouldn't make it.

If the first ritual doesn't kill me, the men after me just might.

Luke, still waiting for my response, saw my shiver. "It's cold in here. I'll get a fire going."

All I knew for sure was that right now, at this moment, I was glad to be by Luke's side. I took comfort in the sight of him. Maybe together we could pull it off; save his sister and survive. What else could we do but try?

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Starved." Coffee and toast hadn't come close to curbing my appetite.

"I'll work on the fire. Can you see if there's any food in the house?" Luke pointed across the room. "Try the cupboards and see if you can find us anything to eat."

The fridge was empty except for a large container of ketchup and mustard. The cupboards were mostly bare, but I found a half dozen tins of ravioli and jars of green olives in the pantry.

Luke joined me in the kitchen after ten minutes. "I got the fire started. It should start to warm up soon. There's no central heat, and it looks like it'll be a chilly night." He reached around me and opened the nearest drawer, pulling out a can opener. "The plates are in the cabinet next to the stove."

I nuked the ravioli in the microwave while he set out dishes on the long, polished wood dining table. I set down the plate piled high with food in front of him before sitting down, too.

He took the plate and nodded his head in thanks. "Pagan's been out of state doing some work. I don't think she was expecting company. I found the keys to her car on a nail by the phone, so tomorrow morning we can drive to the local market and get some supplies."

I sat down and started eating. We ate in relative silence, accompanied only by the crackle of the fire. When I finished the last bite on my plate, I asked, "Are we doing the ritual here?"

"Not the first one. We have to do it in a place just over the pasture on the other side of the creek."

Pastures and creeks. We were definitely in the boondocks.

"And we do it during the witching hour?" I asked. Outside, in the cold, at night—I was not looking forward to whatever was going to happen.

He didn't meet my gaze. "After midnight. I know you didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Neither did I. I think we should try to get some sleep now. It's going to be a tough night."

I asked the uppermost question on my mind. "The rituals, are they really that bad?"

His expression was grim. "I never wanted you in this situation." Luke reached across the table and grabbed my hand. "They're not easy, but my family's been doing them for centuries."

His hand held mine, his gaze never wavering as he watched me across the table. Whatever happened next, Luke would be by my side. "And lived to talk about it?" My voice trembled as I asked the question.

"Mostly."

Mostly. I don't like the sound of that. "You did it," I whispered.

He let go of my hand, turned his face away, and said in a quiet voice, "I did." He picked up our empty plates and headed toward the kitchen. "We should get some sleep. You're going to need all your strength."

"I'd like to take a hot shower."

He motioned toward the other side of the room. "The bathroom's over there. We never tended to your scrapes, did we? I know Pagan has some bandages around here somewhere. While you're showering, I'll see what I can find to bandage them up."

***