26.6

A few hours after the guild conclave, Zyrdicia sat in a shadowy corner of Lyr's newest, trendy nightclub, surrounded on all sides by friends. And she felt quite alone among them. Their chatter washed over her like white noise.

She had let Anthony and Charles dress her in the magnificent style that was their trademark. She knew she looked beautiful - she sensed that from the swirl of thoughts of everyone who looked at her. She saw herself reflected in their eyes, and smiled. Her eyes were glowing with fierce purple light, as though illuminated from within by Hellfire. Her skin was paler than usual and radiated an angelic glamor. That glamor had come of its own accord, without any need to invoke it.

Hardly anyone in the room could look at her without being mesmerized by the magic's effect. People openly stared, feeling themselves drawn into her beauty as though it were a gravitational force.

As it was her first public outing since her return to Lyr, the Lyrian press was everywhere. People had cheered upon her arrival. But the banal amusement of the crowd's adoration didn't interest her tonight. It seemed to belong to a mortal life she had outgrown.

She glanced impassively at a sea of faces. She would have preferred Andireon's company. She couldn't get the image of his human form from her mind tonight - he had been so lovely in it. She shook the thought from her head, frowning. She was beginning to obsess about the dark angel. She knew she needed to keep some psychological distance. She was finding it very hard to do it, though.

The Sephiroth blood had created some sort of bond between them - she was sure of it. It made her nervous, and it excited her at the same time. Andireon was playful for a Sephiroth. The rules of his game were only just beginning to emerge. She had to work to remind herself that like all of them, he couldn't be trusted. But her thoughts kept returning to the dark angel. She was enjoying their interactions immensely.

The transformation that had started when she absorbed a piece of Azriok's soul was still underway somehow, and tasting Andireon's magic had seemed to reignite the process in her. Everything about her body and her magic felt more powerful than at any time in her life. Her senses were heightened, too, and every color she looked at seemed to have new, vivid overtones that weren't there before. She was free of the magical imbalances, pregnancy illness, and love's mental illness -she was again in full possession of her power in all its dimensions. And what a lot of power it was, now that part of Azriok's soul was hers.

She mildly resented the need to be seen in public tonight for Sindra. The diabolic energy she had summoned earlier in the evening at the Magic Guild had left her feeling vaguely disembodied. She still felt ripples of the infernal energy she had let coarse through her. She wished she could be in her palace in the distant cloud world, wrapped in a blanket of darkness, savoring the sensation of Hell's energy flowing through her. More than that, she wished she could be there with Andireon, enveloped inside his soft, black wings. She remembered the feel of his lips and fangs graze the soft skin of her neck.

A shudder raced down her spine as she imagined it. She had never imagined she could want to be in a romantic relationship with any Sephiroth but Azriok. But this attraction she felt to Andireon was hard to ignore. She couldn't wait to see the dark angel again. It was all should could do to resist the urge to speak his name and call him to her right now.

She forced herself to think instead about the power transition in the Magic Guild. Soon Lyr's Governing Council would meet and formally accept the Magic Guild's selection of a new leader, and Sindra would become part of the city's ruling body. That would be an great event in Lyr, triggering a week of parties and feasting. Tonight's event was an important step on the way toward it. And while Sindra was now officially Magic Guildmistress, she was not yet officially a member of Lyr's nine-member Governing Council. Zyrdicia's appearance in public to celebrate with her was now was an important political gesture. But Zyrdicia felt as though she were merely observing the event from afar, rather than standing in the center of it.

The venue's VIP room on the upper-floor was packed with Sindra's supporters - who seemed to materialize everywhere now that there was no risk to it. Most of the humans there were already well on their way to being very drunk.

Sindra stood close to Zyrdicia, her pale fingers intertwined in her mistress's. The vampire's skin was warm, as she had fed a short time ago. Zyrdicia was glad Sindra had returned to Zyrdicia's inner circle. Sindra and Magnus were developing a closeness of their own, bonding over shared affection for Zyrdicia - and their own yearning for Zyrdicia's blood. They were the closest thing she had to family, and she wanted them to get along.

Sindra was the only person in the room who recognized the effect of the Hell-spawned energy on her mistress. She was careful to conceal her concern, though.

Zyrdicia moved slowly from the shadows toward the balcony overlooking the club's main floor. She watched the crush of bodies down below languidly. Sindra leaned against Zyrdicia. "Bloodletting might help release some of the magical energy you built up," Sindra whispered suggestively.

Zyrdicia stared off into space, thinking about that. "Bloodletting," she murmured, smiling at the idea. Yes, that was exactly what she needed tonight.

Zyrdicia glanced at the vampire, realizing Sindra meant vampiric blood-sucking rather than Sephiroth play. She frowned. She suspected Sindra wanted to taste the Tenaebran magic still circulating inside Zyrdicia's blood from the event at the Magic Guild conclave. And she knew intuitively that no vampire could handle the amount of pure diabolic energy flowing through her veins at this moment. She leaned over and kissed Sindra softly on the lips. She dragged her lower lip across the vampire's sharp canine teeth, allowing a few drops of blood to flow. Sindra instantly recoiled, as though burned. Zyrdicia laughed at the vampire's reaction.

Magnus appeared then, draping his arms around both Zyrdicia and Sindra. "I feel so left out," he smiled, kissing Zyrdicia's cheek affectionately. "Can I play, too? I kiss better than Sindra does."

"If your blood does that to me tonight, it would kill him," Sindra said darkly to Zyrdicia.

Zyrdicia leaned her head back against Magnus, noting his cool body temperature. Her pulse quickened as it reminded her of the feel of Andireon's skin when she fed on him. She murmured, "You haven't fed recently."

"Our beautiful, young one has still has to feed nightly," Sindra teased, recovering her composure.

"On that note, I'll think I'll go find a suitable morsel downstairs," Magnus said, his good mood undiminished. "I'll go take care of that now. Maybe then you'll want to go home and cuddle together." He kissed Zyrdicia's cheek again and departed.

Zyrdicia peered into the throng below, her eyes unfocused. Next to her Sindra watched Magnus go and remarked, "Magnus wastes too much time finding willing victims."

"It's good for his ego that they come to him so eagerly," Zyrdicia said, as she watched Magnus emerge from the staircase below.

Magnus was immediately swarmed by a crowd of women-all hoping to be his night's meal. Zyrdicia watched as Magnus cheerfully surveyed his crowd of would-be blood donors. Finding one to his liking, he pointed to her and beckoned for her to follow him. He took her hand and led her through the crowd toward a dark hallway behind the stage at the end of the dancefloor.

Sindra sneered slightly as she watched his friendly, easy interaction walking with the stranger he intended to dine upon. "The humans shouldn't be allowed to think of vampires as harmless fun. They should be reminded to fear us." Sindra paused and glanced at Zyrdicia. "Speaking of humans, you should make them start worshipping you again, too. Disbanding your priesthood was a mistake - I think I told you that at the time. They come to take you for granted without being called regularly to worship."

"Do they take me for granted?" she wondered, surprised.

"You spent most of this year in Karteia. There was no public outcry in the city for your return to ensure prosperity here. The Governing Council was happy to proceed with its business without you. When Portia sold off your harbor berths for a song, certain members of the Merchant's Guild couldn't wait to profit from it. No one stopped to ask whether she was doing it without your permission. They wouldn't have dared a few years ago. They need to be reminded why they need you. And they need to be reminded by blood running from the Old Temple's gutters. There's a whole generation alive now that has never viewed the spectacle of rivers of blood flowing down the steps into Martyr's Square."

"You have a point," Zyrdicia said thoughtfully.

She closed her eyes for a few minutes, experiencing a mild sense of vertigo. For a split-second, she felt as though she had wings and were flying. When she opened her eyes, they fell on a spot across the room, at the edge of the dancefloor. There she saw the face she most wanted to see tonight. Her heart began racing in anticipation. Andireon stood there with a drink in his hand. He was successfully passing for human in the crowd. He lifted his glass toward her and smiled knowingly.

Zyrdicia asked Sindra, "Do you see the man over there raising his glass?"

Sindra nodded, frowning. "Yes. What about him?"

Zyrdicia replied in a sly whisper, "He's a Sephiroth in disguise. And I think I have a crush on him."

Sindra stared, aghast. Her mouth hung open in surprise.

Andireon seemed to hear Zyrdicia's remark, across the cavernous room, despite the blaring music. He blew Zyrdicia a kiss - which arrived invisibly with a sensation of a butterfly brushing a wing against her cheek. And then the fluttering sensation nipped her cheek unexpectedly - it was like a pin prick, the pain just hard enough to startle her. Andireon winked, then disappeared into the crowd.

"Flirt," she laughed, feeling the urge to follow on a chase. She was gone from Sindra's side in a flash. She became invisible in the stairwell without pausing her stride. Since he wasn't really mortal, she couldn't use her nose to track him. He was capable of deceiving her eyes, shifting from one mortal form to another, so she could not get a visual fix on him. She reached out with other senses, searching for traces of his magic. She shut out all the mortal thoughts pressing against her and concentrated carefully. She had to hunt him like she would the Seraphim. She stalked through the room, her entire attention focussed on finding the dark angel who was playing hide-and-seek among the mortals. She detected quick glimpses of his magic, but each time he vanished before she could get close.

Somewhere, she heard him laugh. The sound seemed to come from every direction at once. The sound of it brought a smile to her lips - they were playing, and she knew he found the game as much fun as she did. She caught a hint of his presence on the other side of the room and headed in that direction with inhuman speed, determined to catch him this time.

Before she had taken ten steps, an unseen magical force jerked her up toward the ceiling. Andireon - in his winged form now - hovered near the rafters and caught her deftly. He held her in his arms, facing him. He was laughing again.

She glanced down at the scene in the club below. It was almost like looking into a distant world. It went on oblivious to the games being played around - and within - it.

She glared, pretending to be annoyed at having become hunted by the one she was hunting. But mostly she was just glad to be in his company again. She frowned at that thought.

"Troubled?" he purred.

"I think I actually missed you." She scowled, disturbed by the weight of the realization. "Why is that? I haven't known you long and despise all your brethren but Azriok."

His mysterious, knowing smile reappeared, but he did not answer her question.

"Did you use one of Cupid's arrows on me?" her eyes narrowed.

Andireon looked taken aback. His beautiful smile faded. "No."

She concentrated on her own chest, trying to see the presence of a magical arrow.

"You are unscathed by Seraphim magic," he insisted, a note of confusion in his voice.

"Can you read my mind?"

"No. But I caught glimpses when you fed on my magic. You lost focus on your psychic defenses then." The dark angel's lips curled slightly, and his expression grew playful. "But your emotions broadcast loudly to the entire cosmos even when your thoughts are adequately protected."

"Oh." Her brow settled into a worried scowl. "Your blood is doing something to me. Did you know this would happen?"

"Not until you started drinking it," he said.

"What exactly is happening to me?"

"Is it unpleasant?"

"No. I just can't stop thinking about your blood. Its taste is always in my mouth. It's like an addiction."

"Shall I give you some now?" Despite the supernatural innocence of his smile, there was a diabolically tempting undertone to his voice.

"Is that the voice you use when you are trying to convince mortals to sell their souls?"

"We use lesser demons for such transactions," he scoffed. His eyes focused on her, radiating supernatural cleverness. He continued in a more provocative tone, "But the proper voice to tempt a mortal would depend on the particular mortal. For you, if tempting you were my object, I would use this voice..." He repeated the offer of his blood to her in a sublime whisper in her ear, each syllable physically manifesting itself in an erotic caress of her ear.

Every muscle in her body tensed. Her toes quite literally curled at the sensation of his voice in her ear. She could scarcely draw breath as a shudder of anticipation raced through her. She gasped, pulling her ear to her shoulder and futilely trying to push his face away.

"I await your answer," he pressed in the same magical whisper in her other ear. He smiled the timeless, innocent smile of his angelic brethren, revealing his delight at her involuntary reaction to his magical voice.

She was like an addict, driven for a fix. Worse, she was profoundly turned on by his whispering. Not even Azriok had used that voice.

She knew his blood was somehow binding her to him in ways that went far beyond her need to taste the magic. He was toying with her, and there was not a damn thing she could do about it. In fact, she was reveling in it. And she wanted more from him than just his blood.

She asked breathlessly, "What would happen if you fed on my blood at the same time I feed on yours?"

Andireon pulled his face away from her ear. The dark angel cocked his head, regarding her. His beautiful brow furrowed. He was silent a long time. Then he said very slowly, "An intriguing and dangerous notion."

She said, "Azriok was very fond of my blood. But the exchange wasn't mutual."

The mirth had entirely vanished from the dark angel's countenance. His eyes betrayed his uneasiness with her suggestion. "Azriok was never the same after his time in this world, with you."

Zyrdicia blinked. She heard an unsettling note in Andireon's voice. It almost sounded to her like anxiety.

She suddenly wondered now whether Azriok had developed the same sort of addiction she now felt. Before she killed him the first time, he had left her alone for longer and longer periods of time toward the end, never explaining why. Those absences had been nearly unbearable for her, as a teenage girl. The only happiness she remembered from that time of her life had been Azriok's presence, and it was always marred by the awareness that he would vanish and leave her alone again. She considered whether he might have left because his own bloodhunger was overwhelming, and her young body had been too weak to drain more than once every few days. She sighed, believing that couldn't have been why. Azriok never lost control. Azriok was the supernatural incarnation of control. He would have been able to resist any bloodhunger. The sad truth, she knew, was he had left her alone because he wanted to do so.

She scowled and said, "I know Azriok has forbidden all of your kind from tasting my blood. Are you or are you not obeying Azriok?"

"I am not obedient to Azriok," Andireon said, his supernatural gaze unwavering.

She glanced over at the ceiling rafter near where she floated in the air. The tip of a very long, thick nail protruded from its edge. She smashed the inside of her wrist hard against it, letting it puncture her flesh deeply. She clenched her teeth briefly against the pain, willing her mind to transform it.

Andireon's eyes narrowed. The angel's eyes moved to the crimson fluid welling up from the wound. He sneered, "Are you trying to tempt me?"

"Whom do you serve, Andireon?" she demanded in a husky whisper.

He reached out and grabbed the wrist she held out, sniffing it. His lips curled in a sublime smile. His huge, black eyes moved from the wound, to her face. "Myself."

His smile broadened to reveal his fangs. When he turned his face back to her wrist, his fangs sunk unto the flesh and ripped it open, creating a gaping wound that gushed into his mouth. Hot, furious pain raced up her arm. The sensation was instantly ecstatic to her. The force with which he sucked her blood was like no vampire - it was a thousand times stronger, almost as though he could drain every drop of blood in her body in a single swallow. She remembered it from Azriok.

She felt faint almost instantly. She reached her free hand out and called her dagger from its hiding place in the magical ether. She leaned against Andireon's hard, cold shoulder and slashed open the artery at the side of his neck and let the magic flow into her open mouth, clinging to consciousness with all her might.

Immediately, reality seemed to collapse in upon itself. She was no longer in her body - or in any body. She was somehow a thousand places at once, in and out of time, in this moment, and in future moments that made no sense. A thousand images of Hell and the sound of Tenaebran words she didn't know crashed against her psyche at once in a confusing jumble. She had no independent existence in that instant. It was incomprehensible and terrifying.

It ended only when she heard Azriok's voice, shouting a single word at her in terrible, awe-inspiring fury. "No!"

She crashed hard back into reality. Andireon had one hand over her face, pushing it away from his throat. The wound in her wrist was closed. She was shaking uncontrollably. He invoked a blanket of Hellfire, still keeping his hand over her face so that she could not see his face. She had the oddest feeling she felt his cold body quiver.

"What just happened?" she breathed.

"You experienced a Sephiroth's mind. You are fortunate it did not destroy your own."

"What did you experience?"

Andireon removed his hand from her face and stared at her, focusing the whole intensity of his otherworldly gaze up on her. The purple flecks in the black pools of eyes moved in wild, enraged patterns. He scowled and said, "You."

With that, he flung her down from his grasp. Before she could do anything to brake her fall with magic, she landed lightly and perfectly on the balcony next to Sindra, where she had been standing earlier in the evening.

Sindra was staring out across the room. Everyone around her was in exactly the position they had been in when she had left to go looking for Andireon. Zyrdicia's knees nearly buckled beneath her. She leaned forward heavily on the metal balcony railing. Dizzy from the blood transfer, she had to force herself to remain conscious.

Sindra said, "Your Sephiroth seems to have vanished."

"Uh huh," Zyrdicia replied, shuddering. She glanced down at her wrist. There was a faint red outline where her skin had recently closed over the wound. It had happened. "Have I seemed to have been standing next to you the whole time?"

"Of course," Sindra answered, scowling a little. "Did you think you went somewhere?"

"Never mind."

"Are you feeling well?"

"Fine."

Andireon had either manipulated time or created some illusion that tricked everyone here, including Sindra who had more sophisticated magical defenses than anyone Zyrdicia knew. She swallowed hard. He was definitely a Sephiroth - no matter what the Old Priests once thought.

"Care to tell me about this crush you have on Andireon?" Sindra wondered, arching an eyebrow disapprovingly.

"Not really," Zyrdicia said, wrapping her arms around her body to ward off the cold. She closed her eyes as she willed her body not to shiver, still leaning her weight against the balcony railing. Whatever had just happened had been dangerous for her - she could lose her mind inside Andireon's and not even care. The experience of being in his mind was pure, unadulterated madness. It wasn't anything like being inside a mortal's mind. It was a preview of what it would feel like to have her soul absorbed by one of them. And yet she couldn't escape the excitement of knowing that for an instant, she had been a Sephiroth.

About twenty minutes passed, and then Magnus reemerged across the room - without his dinner partner. His skin color had deepened, and he now looked indistinguishable from the mortals all around him. Magnus moved toward the bar, where he greeted a group of men warmly.

Charles ambled up beside Zyrdicia. He elbowed Zyrdicia gently, interrupting her silent rumination on what had just transpired with Andireon. Charles gestured with his chin, and murmured, "Magnus's business is cute."

Irritated, Zyrdicia scowled and followed his stare for a moment. She wasn't in the mood for this now. She needed to be alone to process what had just transpired. Her head was still reeling from the experience of sharing a Sephiroth's thoughts.

A rebuke caught in her throat when she saw the man Charles was pointing out to her. The man who was the object of the attention looked to be about Magnus's age. He had exquisitely high cheek bones and large, dark eyes adorned with a hint of kohl. His sleek, black hair fell at his jawline, drawing attention to his full lips. Something about him was terribly familiar to her.

"He's handsome, for a mortal," she said, a hint of disparagement in the final qualifying phrase. "But my taste runs more toward immortals at the moment."

Charles gave her a curious look. "Az is bad for you."

"Who said anything about Az?"

"Are you rebounding with someone we don't know about?"

"Maybe," she whispered, ignoring his stare. As she stared at the mortal Charles had pointed out, she tried to remember how she knew this man. She could not recall having ever met him.

Charles piped up, "I knew you were up to something! No one knew where you were the last few nights. Anthony kept saying you were just off moping somewhere. I said you'd probably found a new boy. I was so right. What's he look like?'

"Tall, black eyes, translucent, white skin, black wings - like a Sephiroth," she whispered, a shiver racing down her back.

"Do they all look alike?"

"No. Their faces and eyes are all different."

"Are you sure you can handle another one of them messing with your head?"

"I don't know yet." She didn't feel much like talking about Andireon. There was nothing she could say that could make mortals understand this strange, dangerous attraction. Her eyes moved back to the human talking to Magnus. "So who's Magnus's new friend?"

"That's Draven," Charles piped up, his wandering gaze betraying his lack sobriety. "Made the Liar's list of the year's hottest bachelors, just one place below Magnus, even though he lives in Nevehna. Magical super-hottie. From the looks of him in person, I think Magnus paid of the Liar to get into first place. Draven's way cuter."

Frowning at Charles, Sindra entered the conversation. She said grimly, "Such idiocy. That man is master of Nevehna's Magic Guild. He should not even be allowed to set foot in Lyr. The only reason he is here is to cause trouble before I can stabilize Lyr's guild."

"Nevehna," Zyrdicia murmured darkly. The Nevehnans were generally somewhat darker complected than Lyrians, and often stockier of build. She murmured, "He looks Lyrian."

Sindra said, "He lives there now, but he's from here. He was an apprentice in our Magic Guild when Balthus ran the magic school. Balthus expelled him from our guild and made a motion to the Council to exile the boy from Lyr. Nevehna's guild reliably takes our refuse."

Zyrdicia's struggled to ignore how light-headed she felt. And then a twinge of annoyance crossed her mind. "How thoughtful of Andireon to serve him up on a platter after leaving me scarcely able to breathe," she whispered sarcastically to herself.

Sindra heard the comment and cocked her head curiously. "Are we killing Draven tonight?"

"Not exactly." Zyrdicia struggled to sort through old memories of the time when Balthus, who had recently been Magic Guildmaster, was dean of Lyr's magic school. Balthus had been a young man then - it was at least five decades ago. She asked Sindra, "Why was Draven expelled?"

"He was the boy who once burned down the apprentice hall by summoning a fire elemental. I'm sure you remember that."

Zyrdicia nodded absently and said, "That fire killed almost all the apprentices."

"He was a troublemaker even then," Sindra said darkly.

"He must be near seventy now," Zyrdicia murmured, frowning.

Sindra continued ranting, "Given his banishment, he has no legal right to set foot in Lyr. That he's here at all shows how brazen foreign guilds have become in brokering their magic during the upheaval in our own guild. He openly competes with Lyr's Magic Guild to serve the merchants' magical needs. I'm positive he's here to recruit my most lucrative sorcerers to defect to Nevehna. He's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Zyrdicia mused, arching an eyebrow. Her eyes drifted back to Draven. She found it hard to experience even an iota of attraction for a mortal at this moment.

"More annoying than dangerous," Sindra conceded. "He merged Nevehna's mercenary guild with its magic guild and eliminated virtually all crafts other than battle magic. He is now offering mercenaries for hire anywhere in the world - fully supported by dark magic." Sindra added in a mocking tone, "And I've heard rumors he has a life ambition of mastering Tenaebran magic and makes deals with demons to get access to greater magical power."

Zyrdicia turned away from Draven and caught Sindra's eye. They shared a mocking smile.

They watched him laugh heartily with Magnus. It wasn't the fake laugh of someone trying to be charming. It was genuine mirth.

Magnus looked up at her then, and Draven's eyes followed. She met this stranger's openly curious gaze with a scowl. She felt an odd mix of dread and anticipation.

As he and Magnus continued talking, she watched the tenor of the conversation between them change. Magnus shook his head and suddenly looked annoyed. Draven was pressing him for something. She tried to listen through the thoughts of the people around them, but no one could hear them. The conversation was being completely, and perfectly, screened by magic.

Magnus looked over his shoulder at her. It was all the body language she needed to know that the conversation was about her. His look of annoyance undiminished, Magnus broke off the conversation, still shaking his head. He walked away from Draven then.

Draven glanced up at her again. He offered her the barest hint of a smile before he moved away from the bar toward the dance floor. A half dozen figures at the bar followed him - his own entourage.

Magnus appeared at her side then. He slunk grimly over to where she stood against the balcony. He pulled her gently away from the balcony to a dark corner of the room.

She sank wordlessly against his torso as they sat down on an empty sofa together. He was warm enough that his touch felt almost human now. She needed that warmth desperately at the moment. His arms wrapped around her.

"You're cold," he murmured, pulling her more tightly against him. His supernatural strength now was enough to crush a mortal. She liked the closeness of the embrace, though. "You never feel like this unless you've lost a lot of blood," he said, concern tinging his expression.

She felt him inhale the scent of her blood through her skin. He often reveled in the smell of her. Tonight though, he wrinkled his nose and began sniffing more intensely at her neck. He murmured, "You smell different. Like the sweetness of your blood was amplified to cloying dimensions. It's strange." He frowned, staring at her with undead eyes. He asked slowly, "What is going on?"

"I just had a blood transfusion with a Sephiroth. I hadn't expected you to notice. You're so much more perceptive as a vampire. Even more so than Sindra."

Magnus brought his face around in front of hers, staring with concern. "You just did what?"

"Long story."

"I've got until dawn. That gives us at least four hours. Go."

"I'm involved with someone new. That's why you've seen so little of me lately."

"I thought it was because you were moping and hiding."

"No. That's over. Cupid's spell is broken. I'm not in love anymore. I'm just in lust with a new dark angel."

"Lust?"

"Magical lust. It's hard to explain."

"Not Azriok?"

"Nope. He's different. Less dangerous, I think."

"That's like saying it's less dangerous to stand outside in a hurricane than inside a burning building."

She smiled slyly. "I need this like I haven't needed anything in my entire life. It's having an amazing effect on my relationship with my magic."

"I'm more worried about your relationship with your sanity."

"I'm happy. Really, really happy. When was the last time that was true?"

Magnus's lips twisted as he thought about her question. "You had some moments here and there. Mostly you've been a fucking wreck the past year. But this is scary shit you are playing with."

"The danger makes me feel alive again," she whispered, a dark smile playing on her lips. Changing the subject, she said, "You were talking about me down there at he bar. What did he say about me?" she demanded,

"Fuck - you're like a teenage girl!" Magnus fumed playfully.

"I want to know what he said."

"He wanted an invitation to come up here to meet you. He was probably the twentieth person tonight to ask for permission to come up here. I told him 'no.'" Magnus paused then added, "But he asked me to relay a message. If it were up to me, I wouldn't do it. But after the problem with Portia, Sindra has convinced me that I shouldn't try to screen things from you that I may not understand."

"Good advice," Zyrdicia said, her tone very serious. She knew Magnus had personally killed all of the agents from the families of the Old Priests who had recently surfaced. But she was still irritated that he had known about Portia's involvement and kept it a secret from her for so long.

"Draven claims to have information he wants to trade regarding one of the old prophecies involving you."

Zyrdicia's eyes widened in surprise. "Trade for what?"

"He wouldn't tell me."

"What kind of information?"

"He said he'll reveal it to no one but you."

"Do you believe he actually knows anything?"

Magnus shrugged and said, "I think he believes he does. Whether it's something Philip figured out years ago, I can't say."

"Huh," she murmured, her brain working quickly trying to guess what it might be. She came up with nothing.

Using the silent telepathic mind speech, she said to Draven, "You will meet me on top of the clock tower at the entry to the harbor in twenty minutes. If your information displeases me, I'll sacrifice you tonight to one of the Sephiroth that so fascinate you."