"For the way loneliness is worse when you return to it after a reprieve—like the soul's version of putting on a wet bathing suit, clammy and miserable."
~ Laini Taylor (Daughter of Smoke and Bone)

                                                                          ______________________ 

The sight before me was startling and agonizingly familiar. A man with sand-colored hair was lying down on the stretcher, his face colorless. I could see those same markings in his bare chest and I felt that fear coiling at the pit of my stomach. However this time, the man's arms and legs were bent in strange angles, like they were broken and limp.

Mr Blackwell's face was stoic, no emotion betrayed, as he examined the corpse. He lightly touched one of the marks and muttered something under his breath. Blue sparks appeared from his fingertips and blanketed over the mark but then quickly vanished. He frowned but didn't say anything. He walked over and opened one of the man's closed eye lids. Muttering to himself, he closed the person's hauntingly vacant eye.

Mr Blackwell turned to face the expectant gaze of Sarah, Vanessa's mother, Mr Walker and a bunch of other people.

"Did you find something?" Sarah asked.

"Not much," Mr Blackwell said, sighing. "I think it's time we called a meeting with The Council."

Mr Walker and Sarah's eyes widened and they both exchanged a look.

"I'll give the announcement," said someone from the small crowd and rushed off out the door of that very room in which I had found myself in my first day here.

"There are lot of things to discuss. This is very serious. We should move to the Assembly Hall. The others would follow as soon as they get the news," Mr Blackwell said. Everyone nodded and started filling out the huge door. I was glad. Every time my eyes wandered back to the dead man's face, it wasn't his face that I saw. It was mom – still deathly pale and very much lifeless and unresponding to my horrified and disbelieving cries and shrikes.

But at least, Vanessa was still here with me because I wasn't quite sure what to do amongst so many adults I barely knew.

Sarah turned to look at us and said, "Both of you should go back to your dorms. No loitering around, Vanessa. Hear me? Your father and I will be busy with the Council, for how long I don't know."

Vanessa looked like she wanted to protest. But her mom gave her a look that said loud and clear – no arguing. Vanessa nodded glumly. But her expression turned to one of wicked mischief as soon as her mother disappeared. She grabbed my hand and dragged me out the door, saying, "C'mon Ava, we need to get Josh and Kace!"

"What for?" I asked confused. She looked at me incredulously, "Why, to spy of course! Do you not want to know what would happen on the meeting?"

"Yes, of course I do," I said quickly, although I was sure we'd be in great trouble if we got caught but I didn't voice aloud my worries, trusting Vanessa to know what she was doing. But that was only partly the reason. I did want to find any possible clues that would help me avenge my mother. I haven't forgotten my resolve to find the leader of The Hooded Ones, far from it really.

We stumbled down a few hallways and staircases, both our adrenaline pumping but no sooner had we turned a corner that we crashed onto something or rather someone. Both of us fell on our butt and judging from the groaning sounds, someone else did too. But it wasn't just one, there were two guys.

"Vanessa?" a guy said. Blinking, I realised a split-second later, it was Kace. "Ava?"

"What are you two doing here?" Josh asked, standing up.

"We could ask you the same," Vanessa said, crossing her arms.

"Did you hear about the Council meeting?" Kace asked. "Things must be getting serious if they've called up the Council. We wanted to go check it out."

"Same here. We were actually coming to get you two."

"Oh all right. Let's hurry up, shall we? It must have started already!" Josh said, already starting to jog down another corridor. After a few turns, the four of us piled onto a small dusty room. It appeared to be small unused storage room with an assortment of broken weaponry and furniture thrown unceremoniously across the wooden floor. Vanessa tugged my hand and drew me to centre of the room where the boys were sitting. Kace was touching the floor, his hands brushing the wood in strokes and patterns. I gasped in surprise as the wood warped and bent, creating a small hole in the ground. Immediately, I could hear voices floating in from the hole.

"How did you do that? I didn't know you could do magic!" I told Kace.

"I can't. Only a little bit of woodland and nature magic and that's because I have elf blood, but even so my magic is weak because my Guardian blood is dominant. The floor here is wood and very old and weak too which was why I could twist and bend it to my will", he explained.

"Almost all of them – fairies, elves, dwarfs, satyrs – have a little nature magic in their blood but it's nowhere near close to warlocks", Vanessa chimed in.

"Guys, shhh," Josh interrupted. "The meeting's starting! They've taken their seats."

"Oh?" I asked, edging closer as I knee-walked. "Let me see," I peeked over Josh's shoulder. I caught a whiff of cypress, surprisingly pleasant but I ignored it. Past the hole, in the floor beneath was a vast circular room with rows and rows of seats, descending from a height to the marble floor beneath. All of them were occupied with people, talking and whispering to each other. At the centre, there was a raised platform with a podium and on it stood Mr Blackwell. I realised he had a shrugged on a velvet burgundy cape on top of his usual clothes, his cane with the angel on top still resting on his hands.

"What's with the cape?" I asked Josh.

"It is worn by the Director. It signifies the powers of Patrick as the person in charge," he replied distractedly. Nodding, I focused on what was going on down below.

Mr Blackwell was shaking his head and saying to the now quiet crowd, "No. It's the same thing happening all over again. My magic is being obstructed by something...something demonic, no doubt. The least I could gather was that blade used to pierce these symbols in this man's skin was the same one that was used on the others. Maybe if I can call on some other warlocks who specializes in blades and weapons might be of some sort of help..."

His words trailed off, unconvincing. "It's hardly likely though. But we must try. Maybe together we'd able to break the spell that seems to cancel out mine."

"Well, there are other things you need to know, Patrick", Sarah said, rising from her seat. "We did as you asked us to. We did thorough research of the archives on demonic cults. And we might have found something that can help us."

"What did you find?"

Sarah looked like she was about to answer but Mr Walker interjected, standing up himself. "Well, all the killings seemed to be happening in a pattern. After Lukas Herrington was killed, three days after Esther Young died..." my hands fisted at hearing my mom's name. "...and now, again after a gap of three days, this man, Landon Hughes, was killed. Also, all the murders happened at midnight – the sacred hour. And of course, there are the obvious signs, how all of their skin is etched with marks and how their blood seemed to be sucked out of them."

"That's my father," whispered Kace beside me.

"Your father?" I asked. "No wonder he looked a bit familiar!"

Mr Blackwell seemed to consider this when someone from the throng said, "Maybe the vampires are involved?"

"No, I don't think so," another lady said. She was an incredibly thin person who looked like she could be blown away by one strong gust of wind. She had a dusky complexion and with unusually large eyes that made her look like she was perpetually surprised. "Neck is the most common and convenient place that vampires use to suck in blood. And there's always the puncture wounds of their canines. But these bodies, there doesn't seemed to be any physical wounds on their bodies, apart from some bruises and gashes. Whoever extracted the blood, had to do it by magical means."

"But I don't get it. Why are they doing all these killings in the first place?" someone suddenly asked.

"Demons don't need a purpose to kill, Ella. That's all they do – suck the life out of everything and anything they touch," another man, standing up beside Sarah, said.

"And that's my father," Vanessa informed. As I carefully looked him over, the resemblance was undeniable, red-hair and all. I nodded as I shifted my wait from one knee to another. The wood creaked a little making me nervous but I dismissed it since no one else seemed to notice.

"But like you said, all they do is kill. They aren't smart enough to do such organized murder, are they? They kill to feed but all of this...it's more than just gluttony. They're up to something here," argued Ella.

"She's right," Mr Blackwell said. "In fact, I've been suspecting the same thing from the very start. They aren't just murdering for fun, if those symbols and lack of blood are anything to go by. And let us not forget, the Hooded Ones are involved in this. We already know their leader was responsible for Esther's death and most probably the others too. And we know they like to be kept isolated. They think of themselves as much too superior to concern themselves with the lesser demons. But yet, here they are."

"What if someone's making them do it?" Mr Walker abruptly suggested. "I mean, demons are just chaotic beings that kill cold-bloodedly without much strategic planning, right? So, maybe some else is behind these murders. Maybe someone is, er, organizing them together and making them do stuff?"

Everyone stared at him for a second and then whispers and discussions broke out loudly. Mr Blackwell's cane hit the floor with two resounding thuds and everyone quietened down. He said, "That's one theory, a very solid one too. But we must do careful research before arriving into conclusions. But we need to be fast. All ready too many people have been killed. You need to start investigating with full force and dedication. I want at least a dozen people divided and assigned to the places where the murders happened. We need to be alert and probably get ready for any possible strikes in Morlea, though that's doubtful, as of yet. But better to be safe than sorry. Also, it would do us good to spread the message to the other Guardians out in the mortal world to return to Morlea. It's the safest place now."

He paused and then looked around. His eyes landed on someone and he said, "Marc? I want you to gather a few people to watch over these places and report back to me every week. Also, spread the message for the immediate return of Morlean citizens back here. You must take the lead. Is that all right?"

A bald burly guy with tattoos all over his skin, even in his forehead, stepped out from the multitude of people. "I'd be glad to take the lead, Patrick", he said, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Okay, so that's done. Now, of course, the research works..." Mr Blackwell said. "Somebody has to go through the archives and files in great detail. It's there we're likely to find any sort of clue--"

"We'll look after that, even more carefully now," assured Sarah, gesturing over to her husband.

"Yes, of course, you both will be perfect for that. But get some more people. We need to be as quick as possible."

"Don't worry. We know the exact group of people for the job," Sarah said.

"Also, we need someone to keep an eye out on the activities of the Hooded Ones, especially their leader," someone from the crowd reminded.

"Why don't you do it?" Mr Blackwell suggested. "You've more than mastered demonology, Winston."

"And the Hooded Ones happen to be my favorite," the guy named Winston said, grinning. He was dressed in a fancy glittery shirt and black pants paired with black boots and when I squinted hard enough, I could spot a flashy belt that was designed to resemble a snake coiled round his waist. But believe it or not, he somehow managed to rock it. "I've spend a fair bit of time studying them. But I never did figure out the reason behind their leader's outrageously poor dressing sense. Always likes to appear in wearing a coat and hat, that rascal, even in the hot stifling summer days."

"Maybe you'll figure it out now, Winston," someone said, chuckling.

"Oh I will. Maybe give him some fashion tips in the process. Heaven knows he needs it," Winston said, exaggerating a disappointed look. He winked at that person and even from afar, the glittery eye shadow and kohl in his eyes was visible. I wondered how I didn't spot him before because he stood out starkly against the background – a bright splash of color amidst a black and white crowd. I also noticed how his long, blonde hair, brushed carefully. It also dawned on me the guy wasn't too old. In fact, he couldn't be more than twenty. To be honest, the guy didn't look too human either.

That wasn't all that I observed though. Vanessa's hyperventilation wasn't as subtle as she thought.

Meanwhile, Mr Blackwell looked mildly annoyed at having been interrupted. But he sighed and said, "If we may continue?"

"Of course sir!" Winston said, giving a mock salute and settling down on his seat.

"What?" Vanessa whispered when she noticed me starring.

"Who was that?"

"Winston Grey."

"Don't be a smartass, Vanessa. You like him, don't you?"

Vanessa hissed at me, like literally, with teeth bared and all. "Oh hush! We'll talk about this later, okay?"

I was skeptical, but didn't push. "Don't think I'll forget about this," I warned.

She just grunted.

Shaking my head in bemusement, I focused on Mr Blackwell's words who was busy dividing the tasks to various people. He was saying thoughtfully, "I think it would be wise to go and consult one of the dwarfs too. They're good manufacturers of weapons. In fact, some might claim they're the best. Someone needs to go and ask a few questions. They might know some things."

At that exact moment, something happened. The wood below my knees creaked again, much loudly this time. I looked down and was horrified to see the wood almost turning to jelly in my hands. It seemed like the others had come to the same realisation.

"Wha--?" I started but Kace cried out, "Oh shit! Something must have gone wrong with the magic! Shit, shit! Get out everybody! The floor would give away any sec-!"

But before he could complete his sentence, abruptly, the floor near our feet completely dissolved. And the next thing I know, I'm free falling down, screaming at the top of my lungs.