Disclaimer: All concepts and characters belong to L.J. Smith and her publishers. They are borrowed here for non-profit entertainment.

Rating: G (Sadness, nothing else)

Spoilers: General Night World concepts and characters

Walking Alone

I would know it was a craft shop even if they hadn’t told me; a moment ago I cut my finger on what turned out to be a paper cutter. I might have guessed book store if they hadn’t said bindry; I can smell the tickling dust in the air. And I’m aware of how important this is; Thierry’s presence floats like whispered prayers against my instinct.

We arrived in Ann Arbor, Michigan, just a few hours ago. Cybele and Maggie were famished from the flight, and we ended up having an extended dinner at one of the local resaurants. Neither one of them noticed that I barely ate. Afterward we talked to the bindry, so that Cybele could attune with the earth. I didn’t mention my pounding headache.

They’re meeting in what Maggie tells me is a break room. I can sense that the room is small by the way their voices are sucked up. Maggie leads me to a bench by the door. I can feel her excitement, feel everyone’s. A new prophesy, another clue. And this time about a person they’ve already found! What could be better?

For my sake, Thierry introduces everyone. Hannah is with him; Grahme and Teth are not. Galen and Keller are here on behalf of the shap-shifters, and Ellie from the werewolves. I could have identified them by heart, but I let Theirry do the honors out of politeness.

They begin to talk. I’ve been smiling a smile I can’t see and don’t know the shape of. I’ve been smiling like this for days, nodding a nod I can’t see the reciprocation of. Everyone is so enthused, I don’t want to take that away from them.

But I’m dying inside.

"Aradia is an asset we don’t have to fight to bring over," Cybele is telling them. "If this union will make her as powerful as the scroll says it will, then our triumph is almost assured."

I can fell Thierry’s attention on my. I know he knows as well as I do that I will never be a weapon for Circle Daybreak. I question whether I am even an asset.

"The search isn’t going to be easy," Cybele continues. "Deformities are rarely registered with any sort of group, and with the kind of scarring the prophesy implies...."

"We can check hospital lists of burn victims," Keller sugests. "We know he’s Aradia’s age."

They go on, discussing search methods. They worry only briefly about the prophesy’s frequent use of the word, "Perchance."

I have no more chances.

When it gets to be too much I excuse myself. Maggie tries to follow, but with as much lightness as I ca nmuster I convince her to stay in the breakroom.

I follow the wall with my right hand, managing to know down a pile of something cardboard that rings hollowly against the floor. Finally, I make my way to what I think must be the back of the building, and lay my head against a window pane warm with summer air.

I can feel the moonlight on my face, like thin milk, like the whisper of an apology.

Thierry doesn’t try to hide his steps as he comes up behind me. His hands touch my shoulders, the way my father’s used to before he died, and I can’t resist turning around and falling into the arms he opens for me.

"Ara," he whispers, stroking my hair. "Oh, Ara, I’m so sorry."

The tears I’ve held off all week come rushing up now, burning my bruised eyes. "So sorry," Thierry whispers again.

I don’t want to cry. Cybele and Maggie will notice. Resolutely wiping my face, I ask, "What happened?"

Theirry’s hand brushes my cheek. "We found the body Tuesday. The scrolls were in his jacket pocket."

"He’s really dead, then?"

Thierry won’t say it. He has the heart of a fanatic saint, but he loves me. "I’m so sorry."

Those of drops of hope I didn’t even realize I was still carrying around fal and splash. "What was his name?"

"Raener Calliope."

Raener. Raen. He won’t be coming for me now, won’t be searching me out. He won’t cry the tears over my eyes that would give me back my sight. I won’t heal the scars that cover his body with my first glance.

Can I tell Maggie and Cybele that I’ve lost love I never had? Can I crush them like that, when the stakes are so high against us and there’s only this little bit of hope to hold on to? How can I be so selfish as to steal them from them?

I push Thierry gently away. I will walk, as I have always walked, alone.

I will walk alone with no one to guide me.

The End

July 7, 1999

Jory San-Corinth