One swift, silent movement—like the blink of an eye—and the dagger that was in its sheath hanging next to her thigh appeared in her hand as if it had teleported. Nilia studied its blade with a look of satisfaction. Another dagger exactly like it rested in its sheath on her other thigh. They were her most prized possessions and she considered them as extensions of her own body. And even though they were identical to the last detail and absolutely no one else could tell them apart, Nilia always used the same dagger with the same hand.

  She slowly turned the dagger, her eyes following the pale glint as it flashed over the blade from the hilt to the point. Her mind sent an order, the same way it would order a muscle to contract, and a faint, bluish glow enveloped the thin blade that until that moment had been an old, tarnished, rust color.

  Nilia nimbly placed the dagger on her right forearm and slid the blade over her perfectly smooth skin, focusing all her attention on the precise movement. It required pinpoint accuracy. She felt her skin separating under the pressure of the bluish blade, like the wake from a boat on the sea. She savored the pain as it filled her mind, welcoming it like a long-awaited prize. As easily as it had sliced through her flesh, the dagger cauterized the wound, keeping her blood from spilling out. When it was over, an undulating line as thin as a hair joined the collection among many others. She hadn’t lost her touch; it was perfect.

  One opposing movement, just as swift and silent, and the dagger that had been in her hand appeared in its sheath—again as if having teleported there.

  “This time I hope not to have to wait millennia to be able to do this again,” she said to herself.

  Finalizing the cherished ritual that she’d for so long only been able to practice in her imagination, Nilia sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her black eyes over the body that was lying by her side, snoring. She looked over every detail of his features like a jeweler examining a flawless twenty-carat diamond. She pushed a few locks of black hair off his face. Then she slid her hand into the leather glove until the black fingernails that crowned her long fingers appeared out of their respective openings.

  She contemplated the sleeping face for a few seconds more, then slapped him loudly with the back of her hand.

  His head turned on the pillow, and four rosy stripes were immediately visible on his cheek. He did not wake up, though he did stop snoring.

  It took Nilia considerable effort to understand how this thin, dirty face with the disproportionately large nose was the calling card of the man who was probably the most sought-after man in the world. For some reason, after hunting him for so long, her imagination had bestowed on him considerably more interesting and attractive features.

  She thought about hitting him again but, fortunately for him, he woke up with a start and sat up in the bed. If it was a delayed reaction to the slap, his dull reflexes were one more thing to add to the list of disappointments about him. Nilia was amused with his expression of surprise and fear, and she hurried to act. She covered his mouth with her left hand and shoved him forcefully, laying him out flat on the bed. With the exception of her left arm, no other part of the woman’s body moved a muscle.

  “You’re safe now, Raven,” she said, forcing herself to speak in a calming tone. She could feel Raven trying to move his head beneath her hand. “Calm down, would you? If you cannot, I will not be able to let you go, and we need to talk.”

  Raven’s wide eyes slowly returned to their normal size. Looking from the hand that was clasped over his mouth up the woman’s arm, he saw innumerable lines that led up to a delicate neck upon which rested the most captivating expression of beauty he’d ever seen in his life. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were an intense, brilliant black and were set beneath lovely, delicate eyelashes. A small, slightly pointed nose and full, fleshy lips combined with skin that looked like marble completed a face he could easily gaze at for days on end. Her straight, long hair matched the color of her eyes and hugged her face, flowing lazily to just below her shoulders. Raven knew that no level of amnesia could ever make him forget the spellbinding image he was sculpting into his memory.

  “That’s better.” Nilia pulled her hand away from his mouth and gave him a hint of a smile, knowing the effect this had on men would be useful at this moment. “You can close your mouth.”

  Raven did so, and shook his head as he sat up unsteadily.

  “You saved me,” he stammered, his last memories flooding his mind. “I . . . I really appreciate it. If it weren’t for you . . .”

  “That’s all fine and good,” Nilia abruptly replied. “But let’s focus on what I still don’t know. It would be a lovely little gift if you could explain to me why Diago and his friends were so interested in you.”

  “You know them? You know who they are?” asked Raven eagerly.

  That was a bit disconcerting to Nilia. Could it be possible that he didn’t know who Diago was?

  “Let’s just say we’ve run into one another on occasion in the past. Are you suggesting you don’t know who’s chasing you?”

  “I have no idea.” Raven sat on the edge of the bed, next to her. “They’ve been hounding me for years,” he added dejectedly. “This last time . . . I thought they had me . . . I was completely at their mercy.”

  “They won’t find you here. Stop thinking about that. Do you at least know why they’re after you?”

  “No, I don’t know that, either.” Nilia couldn’t believe it. That made no sense. Yet Raven seemed sincere; his tone of voice, his face, his body language all indicated he was telling the truth. No Minor was capable of deceiving her, so either it was really true or he believed it was true. There could be no other explanation.

  Raven went on. “They came out of nowhere, a long time ago . . . and I got away. Since then I’ve been running from them, but they always end up finding me. It doesn’t matter how far away I go . . . I remember not too long ago one of them, I think his name was Vyns, mentioned it was time to settle a score for something I’d done. Then Diago said they needed me alive. They, too, seemed surprised I didn’t know who they.”

  “They want you alive . . . Interesting. You must know something, have something, or be capable of something they need. So, you don’t know what Vyns was referring to when he said you’d done something?”

  “No, I can’t remember anything.” Raven pressed his hands against his head, as if that was going to help him remember. The sleeves of his worn-out shirt slid back to his elbows, leaving his forearms exposed. After seeing his arms, Nilia began to understand the story a bit better.

  “Whatever I did had to have been before the Wave.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I’m suffering from amnesia. I can’t remember anything about my life before the Wave. That’s why I think the explanation lies in something I did before.”

  “You’re hiding something from me,” stated Nilia, hardening her tone of voice.

  “What? No! I’m telling you the truth!” Raven nervously insisted. There was something alarming about this woman. He needed her to believe him. “Why would I lie to you? You saved me from the people who’ve been tormenting me for as long as I can remember. Don’t you think I’d like to know what happened so I can be free of them once and for all?”

  Nilia had to agree his argument was convincing.

  “Then, tell me, how have you managed to escape them for so long?” She was getting tired of not getting any real answers. “Vyns is nothing more than an arrogant jerk that allows himself to be ruled by his emotions. He was lucky a long time ago and got away from me. But I hope to be able to finish the little chat we once began. I plan to stuff every one of his limbs down his throat before finishing off his miserable existence for good.” Then, touching her right forearm, she continued, “I was never able to add a scar to my arm in honor of his death, and I still have a space reserved just for him.” She was saying this more for herself than for Raven. “But Diago is relatively competent and besides, he’s a Guardian. I’m sure they only brought him to capture you. A Minor is no rival for them, so how do you explain that?”

  “A Minor? What are you talking about?” asked Raven, confused. He hadn’t understood half of what she’d said.

  “Forget about that term.” Nilia stood up and leaned over him. “Tell me how you’ve managed to avoid them for this long.” Her eyes shone for a moment, and their color looked lighter.

  “I feel their presence when they’re getting close.” Raven leaned away from her a little. “I don’t know how I can do it, but I feel a kind of throbbing in my head, and somehow I can determine their exact location when they’re really close.” Nilia’s eyes were dark again, and somehow Raven felt a little more relaxed. “When I see them, it’s as if a strange aura is surrounding them. And to be honest, I see something like that when I look at you, but . . . yours is different; nothing like anything I’ve ever seen. You’re like them, right?”

  “Not exactly. I’ll talk to you about that later.”

  Nilia was stunned, even though her appearance didn’t change in the least. She was standing before a Minor who could sense them. And not only that; without even seeing them, he knew where they were. That explained how he’d survived so long, yet at the same time it raised so many other questions about this Minor.

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  “You have to tell me, please,” asked Raven. “You know them. You know who they are and what they want from me.”

  “I don’t know what they want from you . . . yet.”

  Nilia grabbed his arm and squeezed. An expression of fear shot across Raven’s face, immediately followed by one of pain. His arm began smoking and the smell of burnt hair filled the tiny room. Raven felt the heat scorching his skin where Nilia was holding him. His entire body was shaking; he tried to free his arm but it was useless. It was like she’d placed red-hot shackles on him.

  “Stop!” he screamed. Nilia was standing still, her face showing no expression. “Why are you doing this?”

  She pressed harder and Raven jerked back. The pain was becoming unbearable. Blinded by desperation, he punched at her hand with his free arm. The pressure did not let up and smoke was still rising. He punched her again. Nothing changed. And again. But the last punch connected with nothing; he’d missed and, from the force of the inertia, he fell off the edge of the bed and landed face down on the floor. Nilia had let go of him.

  Raven turned to look up at her. Nilia was looking at him with indifference.

  “Do you mind telling me what that was about?” he shouted. “You burned my arm!” Raven looked at his forearm. The pain was killing him. From his elbow to his wrist his skin was inflamed and deformed, and was giving off an unpleasant odor. “The pain is horrible!” He struggled to get himself into a sitting position on the floor and leaned over his injured arm. Raven murmured to himself, “I have to heal myself. I can do this. A few seconds and I’ll be like new.”

  “You can’t do that!” snapped Nilia, making a mental note of yet another detail that was beyond explanation. Raven could heal himself.

  “You’re insane!” Raven was beside himself. He rocked back and forth, trying to soothe himself. “First you burn me and now you don’t want me to heal myself. You just want to see me suffer?”

  “Oh, please, Stop the whining. You’re making me sick. The pain will pass. It’s just a burn.”

  “You must be—”

  “Before I burned you, did your arm hurt from time to time?”

  “Yes!” he shouted. “But not this much, for God’s sake!”

  “You felt a throbbing? Like a kind of beating?”

  “Yes!” he shouted even louder.

  “And it burned every now and then for no apparent reason?”

  “Yes!” Raven was practically screeching now. “How many times do you want me to say it?”

  “That won’t happen anymo—”

  “Great!” Raven angrily cut her off. “You should have been a doctor.”

  Raven never saw it coming. Nilia was two steps away from him and an instant later his face snapped sharply to the side, accompanied by a short, quick sound. His cheek began to sting.

  “If you stop interrupting me I’ll explain it to you.” Nilia held him by the neck, forcing him to look at her. “Diago, or one of his minions, marked you—obviously without you knowing it,” she added with a mix of pity and contempt. “You had a symbol recorded in your skin that allowed them to see where you were. That’s why they always found you.” She let go of his neck.

  “Can that be possible? I . . . this . . . so I should thank you?”

  “You’re welcome. Now, time to use your brain a little. How long have you had that mark?”

  Raven frowned. “A few days, I guess.” He closed his eyes tightly. “Yes, it was in the sewers. I remember one of them grabbed me by the arm as I was fleeing and it really hurt.”

  “The sewers . . .” repeated Nilia, contemplating his answer. “Yes, I remember . . . the explosion that blew a hole in the ground. I got there late that time. That was you? Interesting. But that doesn’t explain how they were able to find you before that. Unless . . . if you can heal yourself, too . . . Surprising, but that has to be what it is.” She turned toward him and stared into his eyes. “Concentrate and try to remember. Think back on the times you were chased, the times you remember the most about. Just before they appeared, can you tell me if you’d healed yourself or used some other unique ability?”

  Raven remembered Maya and how he’d reduced her to ashes along the Thames; how moments later Vyns had descended on him. A tear rolled down his stinging cheek when the agony of having lost the little girl welled up inside him again. His focus far removed from his scorched arm, he conjured up memories of two other times they’d been hunting him down a long time ago and, now that he thought about it, both pursuits had been preceded by the use of one of his unusual abilities. He supposed deep down he’d always known this. He’d faced plenty of problems but had tried to avoid resorting to using his mysterious gift, reserving it only for extreme emergencies. For some unknown reason, he’d always felt afraid of it, which must have been some unconscious defense mechanism he’d occasionally had to ignore.

  Nilia had been studying his facial expressions. “It’s like what I’m describing, right?” Raven nodded. “Now you see what I mean. If you use those abilities you run the risk of them finding you.”

  Raven tried to stand up, all the while pondering everything that had happened. Nilia helped him up, supporting him until he was sitting on the bed again.

  “If you don’t tell me everything I won’t be able to help you,” said Nilia. It wasn’t easy for her to be understanding with a Minor. And she liked even less having to poke around in his mind in search of the answers he didn’t seem capable of seeing for himself. But even without knowing why Diago was after him, she was certain the mystery surrounding Raven was of major importance. She’d been considering torturing him—to the point of death, if necessary. But now she dismissed the idea and opted instead for gaining his trust—no matter how much it made her feel degraded. After all, he was a mere mortal.

  “I rescued you and I erased the mark that was relaying your location to them. If you don’t tell me what you know, there’s nothing more I can do for you.”

  “It’s true you’ve helped me a lot. I don’t know how to thank you. But, the thing is, there isn’t much more to tell.” Raven’s voice sounded weak. “Except for a few visions . . some dreams that torment me, that I can’t understand.”

  “Tell me about them and I’ll see if I can help you make sense of them.”

  “I’m plagued by these dreams, these images of a place that has no meaning for me. A place that, for all I know, isn’t even real. When I’m there, I’m bathed in a sense of peace and well-being. I could swear it’s a kind of balcony. There’s a silver railing . . . But I’ve never touched it . . . I see such strange things there. I have images in my head of spheres moving around a light. Then I turn my head and those images are interposed with ones I think are of other places on Earth. It’s so confusing. The place is brightly lit, but what’s weird is that there isn’t a single shadow. Not even mine. I look around my own body and it doesn’t cast a shadow.”

  Nilia couldn’t believe it. Raven was describing the Nest. At first she thought his descriptions would just be nonsensical ramblings, but now . . . there was only one place where there were no shadows. “Do you see where the light is coming from?”

  “No. I look for it, but I can’t see anything that’s giving off light,” he replied, confirming her suspicions. “I know the dream sounds hard to believe but I swear—”

  “I believe you,” Nilia quickly affirmed. “Go on.”

  “Some of my memories are a little fuzzy,” Raven continued, more animated since he saw she was taking him seriously. “I don’t understand how some images fit together. There are columns, pedestals . . . and they’re arranged in ways that can’t be real—some are floating, others are at impossible angles. It’s like there’s more than three dimensions in that place. It sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know how else to describe it.” Nilia was listening intently, hanging on every word he was saying. “I don’t really know why, but in that room the atmosphere feels . . . . majestic. The last thing I remember that stands out to me is an immense, brightly shining shape that looks like gold. It’s a . . . complex shape . . . and it’s long, and big . . . I don’t know, but looking at it gives me a feeling of nostalgia . . . and glory.”

  After all these millennia, the War, and everything else Nilia had seen with her immortal black eyes, the last thing she ever expected was that a Minor could say anything that would leave her dumbstruck. It was impossible. It made no sense. It defied logic. But Raven, beyond a shadow of a doubt, had been in the Dwelling.

  The level of the game just went up a notch. She already had an idea of where things were headed. In spite of all the questions left unanswered, Nilia knew exactly what her next move would be.

  “You have to pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you.” Although she didn’t realize the change in her voice, Raven did and was looking at her in surprise. “Your life is in enormous danger; more than you can imagine. The most important thing is that you never, under any circumstances, talk to anyone about those dreams. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand. But tell me why. I’ve told you everything I know; now could you please explain to me what’s going on?”

  Any doubts Nilia was harboring about Raven’s sincerity had vanished. It was sheer luck the Minor didn’t understand the implications of what he’d just told her. The main thing now was that he not talk to anyone. At first she’d thought she’d just find out what he knew and then continue with her plans. She had no reason to explain anything to a Minor. And now, she was shocked to see how things had changed. Obviously, ruling out torture had been a wise decision. The only thing left now was to keep his trust. In the end, it was no big deal to disclose some small detail to satisfy his curiosity.

  “You know who’s following me. Please, tell me,” Raven pressed.

  “They are immortals. You’re right; I’m one of them, too, but I’m not in their clan.”

  “Clan? There are clans?”

  “Yes, there are. Just like all the Min . . . uh, humans aren’t from the same country or culture.”

  “Minors! That’s how you refer to us? . . . Immortals . . . that explains a lot,” commented Raven, a intensely focused look on his face. “But you mentioned you were going to kill one of them. How can you kill an immortal?”

  “We’re immortal because our existence cannot end from natural causes. We don’t get old; we don’t get sick. But we can kill each other. You see the marks on my arm? One for each one I’ve killed.”

  Raven looked at her arm, his curiosity aroused. There were many thin lines running up and down it.

  “What did I do to them? What do those dreams mean?” pondered Raven.

  “I don’t know what you did. Your dreams are not about this world, or this plane or dimension. The place with no shadows is called the Nest, and it’s where Diago and his group come from. Somehow you’ve been there, and that’s why they’re hunting you.”

  “So what are you doing on our plane? Why don’t you go to this Nest place to fight?”

  “That’s a bit more complicated. I can’t explain it to you now. It’s enough that you know the Wave didn’t only affect this plane.”

  “Why can’t you explain it to me? It’s not right. I confided in you.”

  “I have superiors I have to answer to and orders to carry out.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing!” In one leap, Nilia planted herself in front of Raven and grabbed his wrists. She put her face within inches of his, until their noses were almost touching. “You still don’t trust me? You don’t see that I’m protecting you?” she said in a hushed whisper.

  “I trust you,” Raven stammered. “Really. It’s just that I don’t understand—”

  “Well, be patient. I won’t let Diago lay a finger on you. I have to consult with my people; they’ll know what the best thing for you is.”

  Without giving him time to answer, Nilia squeezed his right wrist. Raven squirmed from the pain and let out a whimper.

  “Wait for me here. Don’t talk to anyone until I come back,” she said, pulling away from him.

  “What have you done to me now?” Raven looked at his aching wrist in astonishment. A wide, thick bracelet covered in symbols he didn’t understand was clasped around it.

  “It’s for your own safety,” answered Nilia as she headed toward the door. She went out the door and turned to look back at him, her hand still on the doorknob. “One more thing. How long have you been having those dreams?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  Raven looked up from the bracelet and stared at her, baffled.

  “Since the Wave.”

  Nilia nodded and started to close the door.

  “Wait!” pleaded Raven. The door stopped. “ Nilia, when you rescued me and we fell from the building, I thought I saw . . . Do you have wings?” The door closed and he heard the sound of a deadbolt.

  Nilia left without answering.