Damien spent another few weeks going over things he had already spent over a month learning. This time however, he didn't mind. He had always enjoyed the change of environment that came from practical moments, drawing or playing with chemicals were always something that Damien looked forward to. However, even these all-too-rare moments pale in the face of the physical application of magic. Damien spent hours entranced in the room underneath the bookshop. The faint smell of aging books and the synthetic light were often drowned out by the things cast in the workshop.

Symbols etched in the grimoire and copied by rote were now being repeated in the icy light that hung in the air under the young man's command. At first it was simple raw-energy manipulation and basic control exercises; calling up light, fire and wind, condensing water from the air. All of these things were absorbed and understood with great speed, the symbols decreasing in size from the great five foot creations that he had started with. Shaihe worked Damien hard, forcing him to make last minute changes and adaptations to the spells. Usually these alterations were nothing more than the addition of a line or circle to part of the symbol, but the locations of these changes often caused dramatically differing results. None of the creations caused anything like the major incident a few weeks earlier.

After another month, the pace slowed as Damien began to tackle several specialties. Warding was not particularly difficult, as he had Graham to help him with the theory, and even the varied styles of magic have to follow certain laws. Damien often spent time working with his friend to learn the rules; why stone would hold some wards better than wood and some others refused stone altogether, how to set up a perimeter or a barrier and a number of things that couldn't be achieved by a single or simple spell.

It was a Sunday when Damien put the notes down and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to soothe some of the stinging.

"I need to take a break. I'm going to go take a walk and have something to eat and come back later."

There was no answer, mainly because Graham had gone out on a job, leaving Damien under the guidance of Shaihe, a situation that had been interesting even without the magic lessons. He walked wearily up the stairs and out through the door, slipping past the counter with a fake smile at the girl who barely acknowledged him passing by. Damien took a deep breath as he leant back against the wall by the entrance, letting the fresh air wash over him. He stretched slowly, feeling magic around him as he tensed and relaxed his muscles with a sigh.

Damien reached up and pulled his hair out of its band, taking some time to centre himself in the twilight. The coolness ran around him, a relief compared to the stifling heat of the small room.

After a few minutes he lit up a cigarette and stepped away from the shop, walking down the side street and onto the main road.

A while later, Damien was sitting outside a quiet pub, watching people walk past as he waited for his food to arrive. He swirled the coke round in the glass - lowering of inhibitions with alcohol was not what he considered to be the best idea - and looked out over the road. It was a surreal experience even after a couple of months. People walked along under the twisted-iron lampposts that lit the streets with a soft orange glow. The light blended into the shadows of those walking past and the lights from houses to give the place an ethereal air. Yet not one of these people knew of the second world that lived beside them, where magic was real and he could conjure water from the air with blue fire.

Damien laughed softly to himself; he knew nothing of this world either - only that it existed. His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the arrival of his food. He ate slowly, his thoughts still lost in talk of magic. There was still one part of him that seemed to think that this was all an incredible dream or hallucination. Perhaps he had just hit his head really hard on the way down to the Graham’s workshop. If it wasn't for the fact that he could feel the magic under his skin and the knowledge in his mind, wishful hallucinations would have been all that he thought of.

Damien rubbed his tired eyes, part of him wincing as he felt the rough material of his gloves against his face. He looked around for a minute, judging the light, before removing the gloves and sighing with relief as he felt the cool night air on his skin. Picking up his glass, Damien took a sip of his Cokeas he resumed watching the people walk past. After a minute he felt the magic stir in the back of his mind, and very carefully looked around, noticing a large man staring in his direction. The strange feeling in his mind intensified as he watched the man, who was trying badly to lurk in the shadows. The feeling strengthened again as the man's eyes shifted, paling in the dim light and taking on a strange gleam. A flash of fur and a heavy set feline face shiftedover his visage like a phantom.

Damien felt the magic rise inside of him in response as he felt emotion leave him. His attention sharpened as he focused on the man, taking in his details as he felt adrenaline rush through him. The ghost-shape seemed to fit oddly over the skin. Suddenly, before Damien could even rise from his seat, the man simply turned and fled down the alleyway he had been trying to hide in.

He frowned, quickly paid for his food and walked back through the quiet alleyways before slipping into the bookshop. He had been walking quickly, feeling unnerved by the encounter and paused briefly once inside the shop to catch his breath, safe behind the strong wards.

It was only a matter of seconds for Damien to make it down the stairs and into the underground room, the grimoire opening as he approached it. "OK, man with animal, phantom face body thing..." He gave up.

Ah, I see you have come across a were-creature.

Damien blinked. "Were-creature? As in howling at the full moon were-creature?"

A sense of amusement came from Shaihe. Something along those lines. You are a magician, wielder of magic and you are surprised that some of these so called mythical creatures exist? There was a pause. Also, you are currently talking to a book.

The magician caught himself before he blinked again, "it's just - I don't know why it's surprising me. So- if were-creatures exist, then what about dragons and gryphons and other creatures like that?"

Wholly magical creatures are somewhat different to these hybrids. I am unsure if they continue to exist on this world. They may simply hide behind their magic or be travelling other worlds.

Damien nodded. "Okay, so tell me more about these were-creatures. Are they much like the stories?"

Perhaps. As always, legends change in the telling. You know that blood is powerful?

Damien glanced down at his gloves, thinking of the black marks that ran under his skin. "Yes, blood is a good magical conductor."

Exactly. The blood of a were-creature contains a magical virus that transforms part of their spirit into an animal’s.

Damien grimaced.

Yes, Shaihe continued. The process was the idea of a magic user several millennia ago. It was employed to create personal bodyguards… Or exhibits, I forget which.

Damien smiled wryly as he spoke. "Avoiding the issue of just how morally deficient our predecessors were, what about all the stuff about a bite or claw infecting people?"

Untrue. Only a blood transfer of the afflicted allows the virus to spread to another person.

"Oh, one other thing. The man stared at me when he saw me. Could he tell what I am?"

Magic sees magic. If you are looking for it you can always see another who is Touched.

Damien sighed and shook his head. "Come on, it's been a very long day and still no sign of Graham. The wards will look after this place until he gets back."

Closing the grimoire, Damien put it carefully into his bag and slung it over his shoulder has he headed upstairs, turning off the light as he went home.

Damien liked mornings; sunset and sunrise were his favourite times of the day (and the next morning in The Green Man was no different). Damien woke slowly, stretching in the pale sunlight as he rolled out of bed and stumbled into the shower. Sound was already filtering up through the floorboards as the pub’s morning crew arrived. The aroma of tea and coffee slowly enticed the young magician's senses.

Damien tied his damp hair back, found a shirt and a pair of gloves and threw his coat over the bag containing Shaihe's grimoire before gathering a few things and heading downstairs.

"Sleeping beauty awakens!"

The voice rang clearly through the bar as Damien stepped through the side door from the rooms upstairs. He winced. "Please Claire - teasing later, tea now."

The woman laughed and turned to fetch what he requested. A few minutes later Damien was sipping from the mug and watching Claire organise those under her wing. He headed over to a corner seat and lit up a cigarette, watching the apparent chaos with amusement. How Max, the landlord, wasn't woken by it all was a daily miracle - but not one to be taken lightly, as he was not a morning person.

Lifting the grimoire onto the table, Damien quietly spoke to his companion as the bustle continued around him. “So what are we doing today?”

Shielding, I think. You did well with the attack spells we did over the last few weeks; I think now it is time to finally teach you how to absorb some damage.

“Fair enough,” Damien paused to examine the interlinking circled pattern that appeared on the page, “Although I’m curious – are you ever going to lower yourself to explaining the reason for teaching me the basic attack spells first?”

There was an impression of a shrug.

It will become clearer in time my young apprentice.

Damien narrowed his eyes at the book. “You are a pain in the arse.”

You have no sense of humour.

“Ouch, that wounds deeply coming from a dried out mass of wood pulp.”

Hah! You think that affects me? I am an ancient mystical being, traveller of dimensions and master of magics beyond your comprehension. I have far more experience at throwing insults than you!

Damien laughed. “Oh yes, I had forgotten you were going senile and -”

“Damien!”

The radio crackled and screeched a little at the sudden high volume and the bar suddenly became deathly still at the urgency in Claire’s voice.

“-And the main news again. Reports have reached us of an apparent kidnap in the early hours of this morning. A blond haired man in his twenties was allegedly approached by two others, who struck the man over the head and forced him into a nearby Range Rover. Witnesses at the scene have described the attack at ‘The Bookshop’ in central Oxford as vicious and unprovoked, and it has been suggested that the owner is the victim although this is currently unconfirmed by the police. There is at present little information on the two assailants, a heavy-set man in his forties and a woman in her thirties. The police are urging anyone who may have seen or heard anything to come forward.”

Damien felt something freeze inside him as adrenaline overrode any shock that he might have felt. It was too much of a coincidence that the fat were-feline had been watching him on the evening that Graham was attacked by someone fitting the stalker’s description. Ice spread slowly throughout his mind as he stood and pulled on his coat, sliding Shaihe’s grimoire back into the bag over his shoulder. Damien’s movements were slow and very deliberate. It would not do to lose control before he could do what was necessary.

“Damien? Are you okay, sweetie?”

Claire’s concerned voice stopped him as he headed towards the door and he turned slowly, a part of him smiling at her reaction to him. He could imagine how he looked with every muscle in his face forcing it into a calm mask that hid the thinly veiled rage beneath his skin.

“I am fine, Claire. There are some things that must be seen to, however. I will be back later.”

With that the young magician stepped through the door and headed down the street. Damien paused opposite the bookshop. It was definitely Graham who had been taken – the yellow tape liberally decorating the area around the bookshop attested to that. He thought for a few more minutes before he turned and walked away, heading for the restaurant where he had spent the previous evening. Down the road was a coffee shop that would be open in the early morning, and he could wait to see if he came across the were-feline again. There was definitely something suspicious there. Even if the man wasn’t involved, Damien was certain he could lead him to someone that was.

It took a matter of moments for Damien to inscribe a small rune for heat onto his coat and he sat comfortably outside in the frosty morning. Shaihe’s grimoire, a cup of tea and a cigarette were jumbled in front of him as Damien attempted to split his attention between the urgently sharp words appearing on the page. These accompanying far more detailed and complex runes and circles than the young magician had ever seen before as Shaihe attempted to supply the knowledge that would get him through the upcoming events alive, and the road in front of him.

It was nearing nine in the morning before Damien took down the heat spell and prepared another casting. A complex diagram of swirls and twists inside a double circle that he drew on the inside of his coat where the blue light wouldn’t show up when he moved. It was designed to hide the magical signature of the inscriber. Unfortunately it required constant concentration to keep running and therefore didn’t allow him to cast a spell again until that one was released. He had just run power through the magic when a door swung open across the street, and the fat man stepped out. He seemed nervous but kept his head down, trying not to draw attention to himself. Damien waited until he had passed before standing and following him carefully down the road, staying at a distance in an attempt to try not to trip the overly suspicious man’s awareness. It was a lengthy – or it seemed so, in the chilly morning - walk that often circled and rambled, and it was only cold resolve that kept Damien from losing hope.

His perseverance was abruptly rewarded when the man turned and ducked into a side alley. The magician darted ahead in time to see a door swing shut in the side of a building. He kept walking past and circled back around to the alleyway. Damien cautiously stepped onto the narrow pathway and, with his senses fully extended; he walked towards the green doorway and paused.

He quickly decided that the masking spell would be no use beyond the door if there were hostile people on the other side. Drawing the power back from the spell, he quickly wrote out a basic shielding charm on his left palm, checking it several times before stretching out the fingers of his right hand in the hope of getting a fraction of a second’s faster casting time out of them.

Damien banged his hand against the metal door, feeling some of his confidence grow as he heard the solid crash of the shield spell against the metal. He drew up a twisting rune in his right hand. The door swung open to reveal a different heavyset man, this time bulked with muscle rather than fat. Damien smiled sweetly as the closely shaved head peered out at him with suspicious eyes.

”’ere, this is private proper’y mate, you’re gonna have to –“

A second later the man was unconscious as Damien released the spell, triggering a massive rush of melatonin in the man’s brain. He dropped suddenly, fast asleep. Damien stepped over the prone body, which had begun to snore loudly, and caught a rush of movement to the left. His arm swung up in time to meet the charging body in a stalemate, the kinetic energy causing the shield rune to glow brightly as it met the attack. The sudden flare of light sent the attacker reeling backwards and Damien took the time to frantically sketch a curling rune in the air. He took a moment to steady his thoughts and then cast it with a burst of energy. The power flashed towards his opponent and sent her crashing against the wall and, like her friend, into unconsciousness.

Damien took advantage of the temporary reprieve to attempt to shake off the ringing headache that had smashed through his mind at the force against his shield, and drew a large elaborate rune circle in front of himself. He smiled a twisted smile when it seemingly vanished as he sent the magic into it, indicating the spell’s success. He stepped forward, watched the shield push open the doors in front of him, and walked with apparent calmness into the room.

It stank of unease. A number of people were stalking around him, and everywhere he looked, phantom faces and limbs whispered in and out of view. He caught a blurring image of fangs and claws as a tiger crashed against his shield and collapsed to the floor in a flash of pale blue light and tried not to wince as he felt the clanging reverberation inside his mind.

Damien lifted his head and stared around the room with the mask of confidence and anger firmly in place.

“You took my friend. I want him back.”

The feeling around the room changed. The unease and barely repressed aggression was still present but an undercurrent of confusion was evident.

“I know you took him, I saw that one,” he brought an arm up and pointed sharply towards one of the few attempting to cower in a corner, the fat man. “Hiding last night, following me. Later he and another person attacked and took Graham, my friend.”

A woman’s voice rang out across the crowded room.

“Reilly, would you like to respond to the accusation?”

A youngish woman stepped forward; the feline features seemed to swim sharply in the air around her, contrasting sharply against the pale ghost image that appeared to flitter fretfully around the fat man.

Reilly’s voice was high with indignation and fear. “Ridiculous! I was at home last night.”

The woman raised her eyebrow. “That is a good question.” She turned to Damien. “Magic user, you are unknown to us both in name and style. We would see this matter resolved without further violence, if only to deal with the matter of your attack on my people, unprovoked or not. I welcome you into my home, and if you lower your shield you will not be harmed while we speak.”

Damien was about to reply when he felt a pull in the corner of his mind. Concentrating on it caused a rush of pale flame to appear in his hand that vanished to reveal the grimoire. He opened it with one hand, keeping the other free for any threat and glanced cautiously down at the black ink spreading across the page.

You can trust the woman’s offer; the were-creatures developed rituals to allow them to meet and speak without threat of violence. The first one on either side to attack will be struck by the ritual – according to Graham anyway.

Damien nodded and released the shield, feeling part of his mind relax without the strain of keeping it up, and ignored the now rapidly fading headache. A few minutes later the three involved were introduced more formally and seated at a small table. The sequestered building appeared to be some sort of small boarding house, and very cramped considering the number of people around.

“Last night, Graham Conrad was attacked outside his shop.”

There was no sign of confusion at the name or surprise and Damien concluded flatly.

“I see you already know that, Ms. Lindsey.”

The woman smiled faintly.

“Graham is known to many in the magical world, as he is considered a prodigy in his field. News of his capture spread rapidly, Mr. Winters. Now, what proof do you have to excuse you bursting into my home, attacking several of those under my protection and accusing one of mine of such a vicious crime?”

Damien turned his head slowly and stared with unveiled hatred at the unnerved third member of the meeting.

“Reilly, I presume. Would you like to just own up now and save me the time of having to go through this?”

Reilly shook his head. “I didn’t do anything. You’re just looking for someone to blame!”

The man’s voice wavered repeatedly through his response and his darting eyes raised suspicion in Damien’s mind.

“So why were you staring at me like that the previous night? You must have been watching me for several minutes before you ran like a coward.”

Indignation seemed to seep from the man as he spoke.

“I will have you know that I was simply curious, I had never seen a magician before!”

There was silence for a few seconds before Lindsey spoke in a low, predatory voice.

“Reilly, I know for a fact that you despise anything related to magic and I have even heard you referring to your Otherside as a curse before, so how is it you know this man’s casting style when I don’t?”

Reilly blanched as the focus turned on him. “I –”

Damien spoke before the man could invent another obvious lie. “I haven’t mentioned what style I am since I have been in the room. In fact I don’t think it has been mentioned outside of Graham’s workshop at all.”

The man rubbed his hands together nervously before reaching down to dry his sweaty palms on his trousers. A sudden glitter was all that Damien caught before a spray of shimmering dust flew from Reilly’s hands and into the faces of the two others at the table. There was no chance of avoiding any of the dust and Damien felt his eyes watering for a second before pain erupted through them, sending spikes of agony along his nerves and into his brain. Damien heard the faint clatter of a chair falling backwards as the man tried to escape before all was lost in a haze of blinding agony as both he and Lindsey collapsed, clawing at their faces in an effort to remove the dust.

Shouts obviously alerted the weretigersto the assault and through the pulsing pain that was causing Damien’s mind to reel, he felt himself being lifted and carried away. A few minutes later the pain began to abate and he became aware of someone touching him. As his sight returned, he realised that someone was wiping his face and carefully cleaning away any sign of the glittering dust on his skin.

A woman was speaking to Lindsey as she tended to him, a touch of amusement colouring her voice despite the severity of the situation. “Reilly’s own lack of interest in our rituals seems to have backfired on him; you should probably do something to remove him from the floor in a minute.” She examined him again and stepped back. “As to you, Mr Winters, I suggest you take some of these, the soreness will linger. Get lots of rest until you are healed up.”

Damien looked up at her as he struggled into a sitting position and waved away the painkillers. “Thank you for your kindness, but I have business to do before I can rest.”

The healer sighed and moved back to the leader of the weretigers. “I see you have managed to find yet another person who follows the same idea of taking it easy as you do, Jen.”

Lindsey looked sheepish but grinned. “Great minds think alike?” Her voice became more serious. “My apologies, Mr Winters; I have to admit that we thought something was…off with Reilly for a long time, but I never thought he would try something like this.”

Damien shrugged. “No lasting damage, and please call me Damien, I believe being temporarily blinded affords us some familiarity.”

The woman smiled. “Jen. Now if the wonderful Anna would release us from her care I think we have someone we need to talk to.”

Anna nodded, lingering over Jen for a minute before helping her up. “Mr Winters, in the short time that you have been here you have already provided me with several patients. Please try not to make it too many more.” She smiled, taking some of the heat out of her words, and Damien shrugged in response, looking thoroughly unashamed.

“I’ll do my best.”

He climbed to his feet and, after being waved on by Jen he stepped into the next room, leaving the two women to talk quietly. He paused as he entered, taking the opportunity to look around, and was shocked by the undercurrent of feelings that seemed to run through the room. Everyone seemed tense, but there seemed to be so much sadness and a number of expressions could only be described as bleak. He glanced at Jen as she joined him, catching sight of the tightening of her face as she looked around. He got the feeling that it was a subject that should not be broached. The mood lightened as they walked towards a knot of people standing in the centre of the room, and there was the same slightly vicious amusement that he had seen in Anna.

The group split as the two approached and Damien got his first glance at the after-effects of ritual magic. The spell that had been cast to ensure no violence had lashed out upon the perpetrator and Reilly was pinned in an exceedingly ungainly way to the floor. Jen glanced over at the two men nearest. “James, Nick, give me a hand with this thing.”

She stood tall suddenly, her voice ringing with an authority that seemed at odds with the kindness she had displayed a few minutes ago with the healer. “The ritual has ended! He who has defied the laws has been held and will now be taken and punished.”

Damien felt magic swirl around them for a few seconds before Reilly gasped, half rising from the floor as the two men that Jen had spoken to a minute earlier casually picked up the large man and physically carried him in Anna’s wake. Damien followed them into a small room off from what seemed to be the gathering area, and watched as Reilly was thrust roughly into a chair and chained to a bolt on the floor. His possessions were placed on a table in front of him.

The two weretigers stepped back and took places either side of the door as Jen took a seat opposite the traitor and gestured for Damien to join her. He looked over at the pile on the table and concentrated on the part of his mind that was linked to Shaihe. The grimoire appeared in blue flames, and Damien placed him down on the table. “Show me a way to discern the magic on these things.”

Black ink began to spill across the page as a complicated diagram appeared, twisting and interlocking runes clearly displayed and leaving a large gap in the centre where the items could be placed.

I’ll help you decipher the meaning of the results.

Damien nodded and began to sketch the diagram out on the wooden table in chalk so as not to burn magic into the wood, relieved that Shaihe was capable of taking at least certain things seriously. For several minutes the three sat in silence as Damien carefully drew. Finally he leant back and – closing his eyes to summon the concentration despite the stinging from the dust – touched the edge of the runes, watching blue fire leap along the spell in a dizzying spiral as it filled the chalk. When it had completed, the fire faded to leave a flickering glow that lit the sketch and leapt upwards as the bag of dust was placed in the centre. Colours spun and wove a complex image above the spell and Damien turned the book to allow Jen to see as well.

Fire dust, what he hit you with. Nasty but a relatively simple trick - would have burnt through your flesh if untreated.

The next few items confiscated from Reilly revealed no magic but the final one lit up the air above the spell like fireworks that seemed at odds with the simple pebble lying in the centre of the runes.

Wardstone. It will allow anyone who carries it, and those who accompany the person, through a set of wards. I wouldn’t want to try to cross these wards without it either. Find out what this allows you access to and you have found the person who has been helping our little friend here.

Jen had paled as she examined the wardstone, looking over the small symbol burnt into it. “You bastard!”

The chair she was sitting on shot back as she leapt forward, sending table and contents spilling across the room. Her hand blurred and shifted as she hit Reilly across the face, deep claw marks opening up where her hand passed while the ghostly projection around her sharpened. The scream of the prisoner jerked Damien into action and he tackled the weretiger, knocking her to the floor with a crash and desperately tried to avoid snapping teeth and the overpowering strength that seemed not to fit with the petite frame.

“We need him alive!” He finally just screamed in her face in an attempt to get through the rage and she stilled suddenly, the ghost around her quietening as she visibly recollected herself. Damien rolled off of her and rose fluidly to his feet, turning to the shackled traitor, a savage and twisted smile spilling across his face. “You know where Graham is.”

The ice tightened around his mind as he saw prey in front of him and the anger faded. He felt himself once again becoming distant and indifferent as his mind imitated the power that seemed to exist inside it.

He turned to his companion. “We need to discuss what you know.” He felt his voice go flat again as he spoke, walking out of the room and waiting for the woman to join him in privacy.

She slunk out and glared angrily at the wall. “I’m sorry to have overreacted. That wardstone bears the symbol of the master of the city, a sorcerer known as Magnus. He is also known as the Collector.” She laughed a touch hysterically. “He has an eye for rare or interesting things; artefacts, spells. Our cubs…”

Damien nodded once. “Very well, two birds with one stone then. I will regain my friend and you shall regain your cubs and in the process we shall remove the problem that is this sorcerer.” The words came sharp and bright to his mind, The clarity of the formal language keeping his thoughts in line.

Jen had calmed herself and stared at the magician, feeling ice and anger leaking off him in waves. “If you can get the tribe’s cubs back we will pull the city apart at your word.”

Damien smiled the same twisted smile. “Good, we will need Anna. Let us talk to this traitor of yours.”

Shortly afterwards the three of them strode into the room on a wave of anger and the two men glanced at them and quickly left, leaving the events about to take place private. Damien stepped forward and pushed the table back into the middle of the room in slow measured movements. He placed the grimoire back onto it and opened it, talking in whispers to Shaihe. After a minute he straightened and turned to the betrayer, smiling distantly. “We have a problem, Reilly; we need to know where that wardstone links to.”

The man spluttered. “Are you joking? I’ll be killed!”

Damien sighed, radiating disappointment and began to draw on his hand with blue fire as he walked over to the traitor. He stood in front of him. Reilly slid back as much as the chains would allow as Damien finished the spell on his arm and flexed his fingers experimentally.

He spoke in a gentle voice, as if to a child. “You don’t seem to quite understand; you will not live through to see the dawn. The question is whether you help us and you die a clean, warrior’s death – and possibly redeem your name a bit, or die here screaming in so much pain that you simply give up life.” His voice turned firm. “Either way, you will tell us what we want to know.”

Reilly looked distinctly paler. “You wouldn’t dare!” He glanced at the other two in the room. “They wouldn’t let you!”

Jen shook her head slowly. “You are helping the man that took the tribe’s cubs. You betrayed us all. Anna and I will not only let him, but I will hold you in place and Anna will bring you back from the brink of death over and over again.”

As she finished speaking Jen walked around the back of the chair and grabbed the man’s shoulders, a shudder of disgust running through her.

“Have you made a decision?”

The man looked wildly around, eyes flickering over the softly smiling face in front of him to Anna and then back again, very aware of Jen behind him and her inhuman strength holding him in place. “I -”

Damien sighed slowly, halting Reilly mid-sentence. “I don’t think you believe we will actually torture you. Let me show you just how serious we are.”

He slowly reached out the spelled hand, pausing as Jen gained a better grip to stop Reilly from flinching away. Damien traced a finger over the fabric coating the traitor’s chest, watching ice spread over it at his touch. The man’s squirming caused it to fracture and split to reveal pale flabby flesh that was already beginning to darken and blister at the cold.

The tortured man drew breath to scream and Damien stretched his hand, runes flaring as it slipped through skin as easily as air and brushed against the sensitive flesh of Reilly’s organs. He screamed then and Damien felt a rush of savage cruelty that flashed like the icy Puna wind through his mind and set his nerves alight. He felt awareness rise suddenly and jerked his hand back. Part of him settled his shaking hands after a fraction of a second and spoke gruffly, letting cold seal over the guilt and fear in his mind. “Anna. Heal him now.”

Damien rose and walked outside, closing the door with a sigh before breaking outside and taking deep breaths of air that didn’t stink of fear and pain. He knew Reilly was going to talk now. With that his hands stopped shaking enough to light a cigarette and the smoke and nicotine finished him off. When he dropped the butt on the ground and crushed the embers he felt almost human again despite the sheer, savage cold that seemed to consist of his mind. He walked back inside calmly and stepped inside the small room. Jen was sitting at the table looking pale and haggard.

He took one quick glance around the room. “He will tell us what we want to know.” It wasn’t a question.

Jen nodded. “I hope it was worth it.”

Damien nodded once. “It was.”

Anna drew the two of them aside, looking ill. “He will live, I can get him moving again but he will need to get some rest soon or he will just drop dead. I – Jen, I need to talk to you when this is done if that’s alright?” She looked pale but determined and left before anyone else could speak, glancing nervously at Damien as she passed him.

The next few hours were spent talking to Reilly, organising and planning the retrieval of those taken from them and once more convincing the weretiger to share what he knew after the pain had faded from his mind. Then when he had nothing more to give the two left him chained to the floor and continued planning in private.

An hour or so later, Jen and Damien sat quietly for lunch; food had been brought in as Jen had declared the situation unsafe for her pack to be outside, so all were gathered at the small boarding house. A laptop was open and revealed a highly detailed map of the area which had been marked where Reilly had indicated and a number of heavily marked printouts sat beside the laptop.

“Do you think what we did was wrong?”

Damien paused at the unexpected question and took a second to try to work out what Jen was talking about. “I think we did what was necessary.” He shrugged carelessly. “He had information we needed and had we waited too long it would have been dangerous to use. We needed to get it out of him there and then.”

The woman sat silently for a few minutes. “I agree with you on that, but,” she sighed. “I have killed people, Damien, yet what happened in that room will give me many a restless night.”

Damien shrugged again. “Jen - we do what we have to do in order to live peaceful lives; all I wanted was to study magic without kleptomaniac sorcerers interrupting my life.”

Jen nodded. “That’s something I can relate to, but if we manage to pull this off and take care of Magnus, then you will always have us to keep an eye on you.”

Damien ducked his head slightly, embarrassed. He was suddenly reminded that it wouldn’t just be him affected by their plans. He simply inclined his head formally to indicate his thanks. He took a few minutes to observe Jen whilst she was flicking over pages on the table and examining map printouts. She was more relaxed outside the formal confines of the awkward first meeting and had a strange habit of tucking her pen behind her ear when she wasn’t using it, as if to stop people rushing in and stealing it.

Damien was glad. He hoped to continue using her strength after they had defeated Magnus, and if she trusted him it would make it much simpler.