Sniffing the roses as she filled their vase with water, Sarah picked up the phone and dialed Alex St. John-Smythe's apartment. When he answered, she smiled and thanked the young man without identifying herself.

"Hi Alex! I got the flowers, and I just wanted to call to say thanks. That was so sweet of you to do! I've got them arranged by the window right now -- they're really beautiful."

"I'm glad that you like them, Sarah," replied the young Englishman. His talent for remembering and identifying sounds made "Caller ID" virtually unnecessary. "I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed spending the day with you. With the exception of the interruption at Juilliard, I can't remember a time I enjoyed myself more with anyone. I'm glad that you called, though. I was going to call you later and see if you wanted to get together again soon," Alex said hopefully.

"Really? Cool. I was worried that I'd scared you off, to be honest with you." As she continued, a little discomfort crept into Sarah's voice. Embarrassment, perhaps. "I, uh, didn't mean to pressure you or anything when I... and I mean, it's fine if you... well, let's just move on," she finished with a sigh. "I'd love to go out with you again, Alex."

Alex's heart skipped a few beats.

"Excellent!" he said, on the verge of shouting. "I was actually a little afraid you might not want to go out again," he admitted. "It occurred to me that it might have seemed a little contrived, my inviting you to my place and everything. In retrospect, even the wine and cheese could have been -- well, I'm glad you'd like to see me again. Would you like to go to a club or something on Friday or Saturday? There are a couple of pretty good bands playing this weekend."

Wincing as she looked at the calendar on the wall, Sarah said, "Crap, that won't work for me -- I'll think I'll be out of town. Hang on Alex, let me get my day-timer. I've got a lot of stuff going on in the next couple of weeks."

Jogging into her bedroom, Sarah retrieved her thick day-planner and opened it up as she returned and picked up the receiver. "Shit. It looks like the next couple of weeks are shot. I'm supposed to train with the Protectorate for a week starting tomorrow. I'm not even sure where it'll be -- Zodiac just appeared in my apartment yesterday and told me to pack a week's worth of clothes for when he comes to pick me up. I'm not quite sure what to expect, but it should be exciting."

"You're right. I should very much like to hear about it when you get back. I have a call in to the Protectorate myself regarding the Royal Elite. Perhaps after you --"

"Oh man! Right after I get back from training, I'm supposed to go back to Philadelphia to help Dr. Wight with that meta-human murder case. I'm not sure how long I'll be there, but it'll probably be another week or so. How about if I call you as soon as I get back from Philly? Will that work?"

Alex sighed. "Well, if you'll promise to call me as soon as you get back, I suppose I can keep a stiff upper lip." After a brief pause, Alex continued, and, even over the phone, Sarah could tell that he was smiling. "You can even unpack and get settled before you call if you like."

Grinning herself, Sarah twirled the phone cord around one of her fingers. "Really? That's awfully understanding of you," she joked. "Anyway, what kind of band were you thinking of taking me to see? I know a cool one playing at the end of the month if the ones you pick out suck," she continued to kid.

"I assure you that any band I pick will definitely not 'suck.' At worst, one might experience a slight vacuuming sensation," Alex replied with mock indignation. "Actually," he went on in a milder tone, "I hadn't really looked beyond this weekend as far as who is playing. If there really is someone that you want to see, let me know, and I'll make certain I get the tickets."

"Okay," Sarah shrugged. "Sounds good to me -- I don't know the 'scene' all that well here, but I know that Man... Or Astro-Man? is playing a New Year's gig on the 30th at the Atomic Safari Club. It's down in the village, I think, pretty happenin' spot. And don't worry if you don't know who they are -- Paula introduced me to them and they rate way high on the cool-o-meter."

"Cool-O-Meter?" asked Alex. "Sounds like an interesting device. I'll have to put it on my 'List of Absolutely Necessary Things.'"

"I'm shocked you don't have one already. I would have thought the Ministry," she put on a fake, blustery and terrible British accent, "would have provided you with one. What an oversight! How very droll."

"I'll personally see to it that the one responsible for the oversight is flogged and thrown into the stocks by dusk," replied Alex in a nasally, sycophantic voice before adding, "actually, I also wanted to find out who it was that was handling your, uh, clothing needs. You know, the one who makes your costume and such out of that tough fiber you were talking about yesterday?"

"Oh yeah, sure. The brand-name is Dura-wear, I think. I've got the number here, hold on." Sarah flipped through her planner until she found the information she sought. "Here it is. The woman I've been dealing with is Susan Ping-Lee -- her number is two one two, five five five, forty forty-eight. She's pretty cool." Pausing, Sarah then asked, "So...you're not going to get a costume made, are you?" Knowing how Alex felt about the subject, she was pretty sure he'd say something like --

"Certainly not," replied Alex, sniffing. "I just thought it would be good to have a overcoat or something made from the stuff."

"Oh, come on," teased Sarah. "It's not like you'd have to wear tights all the time. It'd just be when you're fightin' the bad guys. You also wouldn't have to worry about your coat getting stuck in a door or something. Besides, I think you'd look hella cool in tights."

"I'm flattered that you think so," replied Alex, "but I just don't think it's for me. I'd always feel like I was parading around in my underwear"

"You get used to it," Sarah grinned, "and it's really tough underwear. But I'm just teasing you -- it'll work perfectly fine for an overcoat, I'm sure. Might be expensive, though."

"Well, I should probably let you get back to packing for your week with the Protectorate," Alex said wistfully. "Good luck with your training. I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Oh, thanks. And hey, did you say you'd called them?"

"Actually, I called and ended up having to leave a message," said Alex wryly. "I would have thought appearances and personal attacks by the Royal Elite would have at least sparked a little interest. I thought I'd contact the Ministry and see if there's something they can do to expedite things a bit."

"Good idea. Is there anything I can pass along while I'm with them, job-shadowing?"

"I don't think so, at least nothing comes to mind, but thanks for the offer. Besides, I'm sure that you'll have your hands full while you're there anyway."

Sarah blew a stray strand of hair away from her face. "Whew -- you got that right. I really don't know what to expect. But I do know that Zodiac kind of weirds me out. I'm hoping the rest of them are a little more... normal. Anyway, I'd better run. Thanks again for the flowers. That was very sweet."

"Take care, Sarah. I'll be sitting by the phone in a pathetic heap waiting for your call," said Alex.

Sarah laughed. "You will not, you nut! Stop kidding around."

"Who's kidding?" answered Alex, smiling. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye," Sarah chuckled.

Thrilled at the prospect of seeing the tall, handsome Brit again, Sarah hung up with a little too much gusto, tearing the kitchen phone right off of the wall. It landed in a heap at the base of the wall, causing quite a racket.

"What are you breaking now?!" Paula's muffled voice came from her room.

"Nothing!" Sarah quipped musically, quickly trying to reassemble and re-mount the hopelessly broken phone. "Everything's fine! Nothing to see here! Move along!"

Peering out through a glass-like substance that had formed on her command, Sarah felt her breath catch in her throat as she watched the Earth spin slowly beneath her. It was truly an awesome sight, and one the girl had never dreamed she'd be witness to. The Monolith, the massive, alien space-station the Protectorate used as a base for their global operations, currently hung in geo-synchronous orbit over Europe. Sarah marveled at being able to actually see the British Isles, the Mediterranean, even the alps.

Although Sarah had spent her first few days aboard the station engaged in surprisingly tedious tasks, the sense of wonder she felt at being so many miles above the planet hadn't diminished. Nor was the fact that she was in the care of the world's premiere superteam lost on her. Zodiac had appeared in the girl's apartment unheralded, and after gathering her things, Sarah had found herself teleported to the Monolith where all of the Protectorate save Avatar had gathered to greet the young heroine. Zodiac was his -- its -- usual cold, distant self. Paragon, an artificial being composed of nanites, was surprisingly human-seeming, despite the unnerving cables and interfaces he was continually forming between himself and the space-station. The Outsider hadn't said much, and had kept himself mostly hidden in shadows that seemed to form and deepen at his whim. The two female members of the team had reacted very differently to the blonde meta-human. Trinity seemed warm and accepting, very much the most 'normal' member of the team. Lioness, conversely, had assumed a much more adversarial posture, and seemed to dismiss Knock-out's presence as something of an annoyance.

Since her arrival, the members of the Protectorate had been preposterously busy, and it had been all Sarah could do to try and stay out of their way. When they weren't on assignment in the field, every member of the team was glued to the various scanners, sensors, computers and scopes that infested the station. Being caretakers for the world was a full-time job even during 'down' times, Sarah was discovering. She was exhausted just watching how hard they all worked.

Not that Sarah had had it easy. Beyond the long hours spent learning about politics, leadership, tactics, communications, computers, meta-human history and all manner of things she never knew even existed, the teen had been passed from one team member to the next as each invariably became too busy to shepherd the young meta around the Monolith. Worst of all were the martial arts lessons she'd been receiving from Lioness. If she didn't know better, Sarah would have sworn the woman held some kind of grudge against her. She'd been merciless physically, but it was the verbal beating she received in every lesson that had really made Sarah wince.

Looking away from the Earth, the shapely girl turned and walked towards the training room. Lioness was waiting within.

"We'll be repeating yesterday's lesson today. I'd hoped you'd have progressed past this stage by now, but it's obvious that you need much more work on the fundamentals before you're ready for any sort of intermediate instruction."

Sarah hated the sound of Lioness' haughty voice, but she simply nodded as she came to stand before the graceful woman. "You're the teacher," she said simply. "If you think we need to repeat yesterday's lesson, that's fine with me."

"You do not have a choice," Lioness responded with an expertly arched eyebrow. "You are not ready for the next stage. You're oafish. Slow. Clumsy. Easily unbalanced."

Sarah nodded again. This was nothing she hadn't heard ten times during the last lesson.

Lioness pressed the attack. "Your silicone breasts are absurdly large and ungainly. Do you think they'll help you next time you find yourself in battle? Did they help you against Mastodon? Against Proctor?"

"No," Sarah answered quietly, shaking her head.

"So why do you have them? You've undergone other extensive surgeries as well -- why?"

Sarah wasn't sure how Lioness knew as much as she did about her background, but right now she didn't care. All she wanted to do was change the subject. "Look, can we just get on with the lesson?"

"But I'm curious as to why your looks are more important to you than your capabilities as a crime-fighter."

Sarah frowned. "They aren't. Just because I've undergone some plastic surgery and take the time to put on makeup and brush my hair in the morning doesn't make me some spoiled little brat who only cares about herself and her appearance."

"Doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't."

Lioness walked in a slow circle around the frustrated young woman. "Really. You'll have to prove that to me." With that, Lioness lunged and the lesson began.

Sarah stumbled back to her quarters nearly three hours later, exhausted, bruised and on the verge of tears. Lioness had been testing her -- not just testing her fighting abilities, but also her mental toughness, her psyche. Her teacher hadn't let up all afternoon, barraging the girl with blows and insults incessantly. Sitting down on her bed, Sarah refused to allow herself to cry, despite the pain in her ribs, and, more importantly, despite how close to home some of Lioness' verbal barbs had hit. Pulling off her costume, she flung it across the room and looked at it for long minutes before climbing into the strangely shaped shower stall just off of her room.

Cool water helped liven the teenager's spirits, and she could already feel and see her body's accelerated healing tackling some of the nastier bruises she'd gotten earlier in the day. She had withstood Lioness' assault -- that counted for something. As the girl's thoughts brightened ever so slightly, an alarm sounded all across the station. It was an alarm she'd heard before. Not an alarm meant to signify that the station was under some kind of attack, but rather one meant to act as a marshaling call for the members of the Protectorate, wherever they might happen to be.

Toweling her hair for a few seconds, Sarah dressed quickly and jogged out the door towards the lift that would take her towards the command center. When she reached the lift, she found Trinity inside. Sarah finished tying her wet hair back as the elevator began rocketing the pair upward.

"You doing okay?" Trinity asked.

"Yeah," Sarah answered. "I'm fine. A little overwhelmed by all of this, but I'm fine."

"I mean with Lioness. I know she's been pretty hard on you. She's kind of got a hate on for Omega at the moment, and I think she's taking it out on you a little."

Sarah paused a moment. "What did Omega do?"

Trinity smiled slightly as the doors opened. "Not much. Don't worry about it -- we're here. Time to find out what's up."

As the two women exited the lift, Zodiac turned to face them. "What is up," the alien-human hybrid began, "is that the Outsider has returned from Ireland. Apparently all is not as it seems there."

Over against one wall, the dark form of the Outsider stepped halfway out of a long shadow. "It's a real mess down there. A few thousand dead, lots more missing. Some kind of communications blackout is covering the whole country, and it took me a while to get out from under its coverage so I could signal the Monolith."

"Curious," Zodiac intoned. Gesturing at a holographic panel in front of it, the unearthly being frowned. "Our detection systems should have immediately identified such a blackout."

The Outsider's gravelly voice gained a bit of an edge. "Yeah, well, trust me. It's down there. I couldn't raise jack squat from the ground. And if you'll remember, we lost the signal for a short time when Avatar first went down to investigate."

"And what of Avatar?" Lioness asked, looking up from the scanner she'd been monitoring.

"I didn't see him. If he's out healing the sick and battling evil and all that crap, he's doing it quietly. I left surveillance devices all over the place and didn't even catch a glimpse of him."

"I have detected anomalous readings in the sensor diagnostics," Zodiac announced, not looking up from the display.

"Fascinating," the Outsider said with obvious sarcasm.

Beside Sarah, Trinity split into her three selves. One joined by Zodiac's side while the other two manned yet more sensing stations.

"Still no sign of that blackout, or of wide-spread devastation in Ireland," two of the Trinities said.

"What, do I have to take you people down there to prove what I'm saying?" the Outsider asked, obviously annoyed.

Zodiac looked up. "No. Your word is enough. The sensors are in error."

"A virus!?" the third Trinity exclaimed.

"Yes," Zodiac nodded. "It appears some of our critical low-level computer systems have been compromised."

"How the hell did that happen?" Lioness asked angrily. Sarah could feel the woman's eyes on her. She suddenly felt very out of place, like she'd borrowed the Outsider's moniker.

Zodiac's brow lowered slightly. "Unknown at present, but I should be able to track the infection to its source, given time."

The Outsider faded back into the shadows slightly. "Fine, you work on that. I'm going back down. I caught a glimpse of some kind of floating fortress, and I'm betting that's where I'll find whoever's behind this -- probably that bastard Autocrat."

"We're with you," the three Trinities chimed, rejoining.

Catching Lioness' movement out of the corner of its eye, Zodiac spoke before the huntress could volunteer as well. "I'll need you here, Lioness. Another emergency may arise, and tracking and eliminating the virus infecting our systems will likely require my attention for several hours."

Trinity lifted her eyebrows as she turned back towards Sarah. "And we can't leave poor Knock-out on her own. All of this must still be a bit overwhelming for her."

Sarah swallowed and caught the glare Lioness gave her. "If I'm in the way-" she began, but Lioness cut her off.

"I will stay behind, in case I'm needed elsewhere. And to provide Knock-out with direction and guidance."

Sarah swallowed hard.

Closing her eyes, Sarah leaned back into the hot, sudsy bath she'd drawn immediately on getting home. She'd learned a lot during her time on the Monolith -- including that the members of the Protectorate had no real lives of their own -- but it had been a draining, exhausting week. The last few days, especially, had been rough, thanks mostly to Lioness.

Sarah wasn't kidding herself. She knew it was a valuable experience, and that she should have been thankful for the opportunity to learn from the best -- but the sense of relief she felt upon returning to New York was undeniable. A couple of days of downtime and she'd be back in the thick of it. Dr. Wight had called. Hack had been spotted at a mall, trying to abduct a small child. The chase was on in Pennsylvania.

Closing the door to the car, Sarah opened her umbrella and quickly made her way through the rain to the front door of an old brownstone. She grinned broadly when Dr. Wight answered her knock, smiled with his wrinkled eyes and invited her in. The young meta-human signaled to the policeman in the patrol car that had dropped her off that all was well, and she watched as he slowly pulled away.

"He's not going far, I hope," Wight remarked, helping Sarah out of her jacket.

"Why not?" Sarah asked, bending to unlace her boots.

"Because of the connection this 'Hack' character seems to have with you. Some kind of mystical link, I've determined. The more eyes we have around us, the better. We don't need a repeat of what happened when we were in the taxicab. We don't want to be caught unprepared for our next encounter."

Sarah nodded, moving into the living room where a fire crackled warmly in the hearth. "Yeah, that's true. Have you figured out why this creep feels the way he does towards me?"

"Not yet. Unfortunately, I don't have much to go on. I have, however, made some amount of progress with regards to the rest of the case." Motioning to a large wingback chair by the fire, the diminutive professor continued. "Please sit. We have much to discuss, and little time."

Across the street, in an alley between two buildings, a lone, hulking figure gazed into the light-filled windows of Dr. Wight's home, oblivious to the pouring rain.

The next day saw Sarah on the beat with the local police department, checking out crime scenes, interviewing people who'd claimed to have seen the masked giant, and generally chasing down leads. Though she'd been hoping to spend more time working with Dr. Wight, Sarah knew that there were certain aspects of what he did that required solitude. So it was she settled for the rather mundane task assigned to her -- providing muscle in case the police actually came across the monster.

While the rain had stopped, the temperature had dropped sharply, coating the Philadelphian streets with thick, slippery ice. It was a dark, overcast day, the kind that chilled right to the bone, and Sarah was glad when, near lunch time, the two detectives she was with decided to warm up inside a coffee shop. When the tall heroine stepped into the restroom, Jane Stamp lit a cigarette and took the opportunity to grill her partner.

"Casey, you've got to stop looking at her tits. I know they're nice, but you're a married man."

Casey spit up a little of his coffee. "Jesus, Jane!"

"What? Just offering some helpful advice. It's not like she hasn't noticed."

"Give me a break. I haven't been staring. And she shouldn't wear tight sweaters if she doesn't want the attention."

Stamp flicked some ashes into the ashtray. "One, built like she is, just about everything she puts on is going to be tight. Two, I never said she didn't want attention. I said you shouldn't be gawking at her."

"Fuck, she's just a kid, Jane."

"My point exactly. She's not much older than your daughter."

Casey felt his mouth dry out, then made a slight face as he caught sight of the young woman they'd been talking about heading back their way. "She's coming," he said quietly.

Stamp blew a mouthful of smoke at her partner. "In your dreams."

Casey coughed sharply, his face reddening as Sarah sat back down in the booth. "Is he okay?" she asked, concern on her Hollywood features.

"No," Stamp returned, "but don't you dare offer him mouth-to-mouth no matter how bad he chokes."

"Dammit, Jane!" Casey managed, seeing Sarah flush slightly. Regaining his wind, he added, "Ms. Steiner, Detective Stamp is trying to cut back on smoking, and it's making her irritable. And bitchy. Ignore her."

Stamp was about to offer a rebuke when Sarah suddenly lurched in her seat, exclaiming slightly and crushing her coffee mug, spilling hot liquid all over the table.

"There he is!" she whispered hoarsely. "He's right there! Across the street!"

"Holy shit," Casey said softly, his eyes following Sarah's. Sure enough, across 20th St., in the dark lane between two brick buildings, Hack stood motionless, watching. Only his mask and part of his scarred upper body were visible in the shadows, but there was no mistaking him for anyone else.

"Fuck. He's a big bastard, isn't he?" Stamp muttered. "You think my .38 can drop him if I get him right in the eye-hole?"

Casey paled. "We've gotta call for back-up. No way we can take him by ourselves." Standing, he added, "If we make for the car radio he'll know something's up. I'll call it in from the phone at the counter."

"Play it slow," Stamp warned, her eyes on the maniac thought to have already killed dozens.

Sarah cursed softly as she watched Hack slip back into the shadows. "Shit -- he's seen you, I think. He's taking off!"

Stamp got to her feet. "Call it in, Dave, we're going after him. C'mon, Knock-out."

As Casey made the call, the two women scrabbled outside onto the slick pavement, their eyes searching the inky alley across the street. Stamp drew her revolver and waved a pedestrian out of the way. "You go on in," she commanded, "and I'll slip around the other way and get him as you flush him out."

"R-right," Sarah answered, suddenly all too aware she might end up facing the creature alone. Closing her eyes, she steeled her nerves for a moment. Opening them, she raced across the street and -- and was struck full-on by a speeding garbage truck she hadn't seen coming. The truck shuddered and jumped as though it had struck a telephone pole, but still got the better of the exchange as it sent Sarah skidding and tumbling across the pavement.

Stamp witnessed the whole sickening sight. "Sarah!" she called, slipping as she changed direction to head back for the downed girl. By the time she'd made it over, the heroine was already half-way to her feet.

"I'm okay," Sarah said groggily, a bit of blood running down her forehead.

"Don't pull that bullshit with me," Stamp scolded, putting an arm around her injured companion's shoulders. "You got corked a good one, even for a super-babe. Sit down. Take it easy for a minute. Do you need an ambulance?"

"Backup's on the way," Casey called, coming out onto the sidewalk. Seeing Sarah and Jane in the middle of what looked like an accident scene, he paused a second before asking, "What... happened? Are you two okay?"

"Sarah got hit by a truck, but I think she's alright," Stamp answered.

"I'm fine," Sarah returned, looking back towards where she'd last scene Hack.

"Check the alley," Stamp suggested. "I bet he's long gone, but lets make sure."

Casey nodded, pulling out his pistol as he made his way across the street. "I'm on it," he shouted. A few minutes later, he returned. Sure enough, there was no sign of Hack. As he approached his partner and Knock-out, Stamp turned towards him.

"Take over -- keep her from moving. I want a paramedic to check her out when the EMTs get here."

Casey nodded and ignored Sarah's protests almost as effectively as Stamp had. "Where are you going?"

Stamp didn't look back over her shoulder. "To kick that dumb truck driver's ass. And give him a ticket or ten."

Joseph Wyman swore a blue streak as he sat back on his couch in front of the television. It had been a shit day, pure shit. First he'd been chewed out by his little dip-shit boss for being late for work. Then the truck's fucking heater had given up. Then that super-bimbo Knock-out had jumped out in front of him, just about wrecking his truck. Just his fucking luck -- one of the hottest chicks in the country, and he god-damned runs her down with a garbage truck. To top it off that mega-bitch cop had written him up for a hundred and one tickets and violations. Fucking perfect.

Guzzling the beer he'd opened, Wyman cocked his head as he heard something thump in the kitchen. What the fuck now, he thought to himself, getting to his feet. "Who the fuck's there?" he called out. "I've got a gun, fuck-wad, so you'd better get the hell out!"

A terrible mechanical growl was the only reply. The sound of a chainsaw.

Sarah recovered quickly from the accident, then spent the next three days on the job with the two detectives. It quickly became evident that Hack was following her, and a game of cat-and-mouse ensued as the trio tried time and again to close in on the villain, always without success. For being as large as he was, Hack was proving nimble and unnervingly elusive. Sarah had managed to get close on a couple of occasions, and in one instance the muscled giant had even extended a hand towards her, almost as a gesture of peace. None of his behavior, in fact, could have been viewed as threatening. It seemed as though he were merely content to watch from afar. Whenever the brawny girl approached him, aggressively or otherwise, without fail he fled.

Sarah spent three awful, nightmare-filled nights under heavy guard. On the fourth day, a neighbor of Joe Wyman's called in about the smell. Sarah, Casey and Stamp took the call.

Detective Casey grimaced. "Jesus Christ. Poor bastard."

Stamp nodded. "And I thought I'd gone rough on him. I don't have enough imagination. I'd never dream of sticking a chainsaw up someone ass and revving it until it came out their neck."

"This is one sick mother," Casey growled.

Stamp glanced through the front window, to where Sarah had just finished getting sick on the lawn. "Think of how she feels. This psycho has a thing for her... hell, he probably thinks he just did something nice for her, killing the guy who tried to run her down."

"We shouldn't take her to any more scenes like this, Jane. She's too young."

Stamp shrugged. "She's got to learn, to toughen up, if she's going to stick with this game. Life's not like it is in the comic books."

Casey looked again at the shredded, gruesome remains of the garbage man. "It should be. This sort of shit wouldn't happen to people."

"So you're going to be going out of town for a while?" Sarah sipped from her cup of tea delicately.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, but not for long, I suspect. When I return, we'll work together in order to find Hack and his female companion."

"So do you want me to keep helping the police while you're away? On patrol and whatnot? I'm thinking we can use Hack's fascination with me against him. I can be bait for a trap."

Wight waved dismissively. "You'll do nothing of the sort. And while I'm away, you'll need protection."

Sarah bristled ever-so-slightly. "I can take care of myself, you know. I do have super-strength.

"Sarah, I'm afraid this has nothing to do with your unquestionably impressive abilities. You simply don't have experience dealing with the blacks arts, and aren't prepared for what you might have to face." The doctor's expression softened a little. "When we're together, they're no match for us. The reverse is true when we're apart."

A crease appeared in the beautiful girl's brow as she accepted the wise words. "Yeah. I'm still pretty new to a lot of this stuff... especially the magic. So you want me to lie low, to try to elude Hack for a few days?"

"Yes. I've arranged a new hotel for you."

"But what's to keep him from finding me there?"

Wight arched an eyebrow. "Well, there's a certain enchantment I want to place on you -- to protect you from magical detection."

"Like a spell?" Sarah asked a little nervously.

"More or less. A ward, really. It'll hide you from unwanted searchers, among other things. It will take some time to prepare, however, and we should get started soon since I'm not entirely sure when I'll be called away."

"Lets get to it, then," Sarah agreed, not really knowing what to expect.

Wight got to his feet and led his young charge into his study. "This way," he gestured. Once inside the arcane room, which looked to Sarah like it was right out of a storybook wizard's castle, he motioned to a low leather bench. "I'll need to prepare a few things, Sarah. Please make yourself comfortable -- and take off your shirt."

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