It was nearly eight o'clock when I got back to the building. My stomach was growling audibly and I'd cursed myself more than once for fleeing the house without any water on me.

I hadn't even thought of bringing my wallet either, and even if I had — I doubted I would've just strolled into a store on my way home. I stuck to the places I knew, it was part of a plan that had been established long ago, meant to keep me safe. As safe as possible, at the very least.

     I pulled the hood down from my damp, tangled hair as I emerged from the final staircase leading up to the seventh floor. My body came to an involuntary, sudden halt just as I turned the corner. At once frozen in place by the sheer sight of the unhinged door at the end of the hallway.

     I smelled it first : the tinge of magic, dark and dangerous, overwhelming me the the same way it had hit me at the bar last night. This time, however, it was more than just a whisper of alarm. My entire body prickled with one, unified thought:

     RUN

My mind was still reeling over what I'd just witnessed when my feet were already pounding the steps back down to the ground floor.

Adrenaline flustered out any trace of weariness I'd felt and made me aware of little but my own heartbeat as I flung myself down the final flight of stairs and ran back into the open street without missing a beat.

Traffic had just began to start up, cyclists rang their bells on their casual Sunday morning rides, shrieking in the distance when I slipped right through them to cross the road. I'd rather be scooped by a stupid car.

     I wanted to shout at myself, for not being more careful and slacking off, but found myself immediately countering with the fact I hadn't used more wards than absolutely necessary — because magic called to magic. Ruaraidh warned me that the more I used, the more attention I'd draw — but there wasn't exactly an on and off button on me ; I wished there had been, though. I was my own, greatest enemy when it came down to that.

     I caught my rasping breath between two garbage cans, trying to pierce through the initial panic with rational thoughts. For starters, assuming the worst, whatever had clawed its way inside likely had everything they needed to track me down. They would soon enough, if not already, be hot on my heels.

     Beck

I wanted to hurl over and empty out the meager contents of my stomach when her face flashed through my mind. Her presence was all over our home too, if they couldn't find me, they sure as hell wouldn't have any trouble chasing her down.

     Ruaraidh had, more than once, called humans collateral damage; a small price to pay for my own survival. He'd warned me, ironically, that getting close to those short of life would cost me considerably more. I'd always thought him a bitter, old faerie for it — but he'd not just meant them for me. His sworn fealty to my mother, and involuntarily me, had eventually been paid for with his very life.

     I patted down my pockets for my phone, trying hard to keep the strain from my voice when I dialed Beck's number.

It rang, and rang, and rang and with every, passing second I could feel the sanity slip faster through my fingers. Dread, the kind that filled you to the brim with desperation, pushed around my insides until somebody finally picked up.

     ‘Yeah, hello?’

The relief evaporated when I heard a groggy male voice on the other side, fueling me with a kind of rage I seldom felt.

     ‘Who's this? Where's Beck?’ I hissed when my grip around the phone was sure to leave dents if I'd ever be able to relax them again.

     ‘Jesus, she's in the shower. Who are you? Her mother?’

I nearly collapsed against one of the cans, my anger turning into a brief moment of nothing — absolute numbness at the idea that she was okay, before everything else crashed back in. Beck was still with the guy from the bar. Thank god.

     ‘I'm her roommate. Put her on the damn phone.’

I could hear him getting up by the sound of rustling, and tried very hard not to squeeze the address out of him, as he presumably went into the bathroom and handed it over to the only person I needed to talk to right now.

     ‘Tiff? What's up?’

I shut my eyes, took a shallow but steadying breath, and tried to pull myself together as the background noises of running water disappeared.

     ‘Where are you right now? I really need to see you.’ I couldn't risk her going back to the apartment, but I couldn't tell her why. I had to make sure she was out of the line of fire before I did anything else.

     ‘Is everything alright, T? Did something happen?’ I ground my teeth, wishing Beck weren't so able to puncture through my facades, or I at least better at keeping them in place.

     ‘Actually, something did, and I really have to talk to you about it.’ I fought the satisfaction that speaking the truth always brought with, knowing very well it didn't matter.

     ‘Okay, yeah, I'll get dressed and meet you at the coffee corner in a bit?’

Beck sounded like she was further away from the phone, I could hear her speaking to the guy in a rushed manner that made me feel guilty for barging into her morning like this — no: guilty for endangering her life the way I did.

     ‘I'll be at our usual table.’ I hoped it sounded less ominous than I felt, but I put away my phone before Beck had a chance to cut in with questions she'd every right to ask.

I glanced down at my badly put together outdoor attire and sighed. I looked positively crazy, but I wouldn't put a glamour over myself right now, noting that it probably did more harm than good at this point. Whatever fae had hunted me down this time, was nothing like the small—time folk I had ran into before. Some weren't powerful enough to break through wards — others simply didn't have the brains. But this one. . .

     I shivered as I tried my best to shake the grazing touch its rippling darkness had left on me, forcing myself out of the alley and into the direction of The Cracked Mug — the coffee corner Beck had suggested — when all I wanted to do was run the opposite way.