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absolute terror from her. And it was everything I needed. It fed my demon, gave me energy I was sorely lacking due to loss of blood and the amount of power it takes to heal myself. “Why?” I asked again, more forcefully. Not a question as much as an order to answer.
    “I don’t know,” she said, staring at me.
    “So, what? You were just walking along, carrying your guns, and said, ‘hey! Let’s murder that one!’?”
    She looked at least as confused as she was afraid. “The guns were to protect ourselves,” she said.
    “From what?”
    “Shit is crazy around here. Worse now than ever. Some asshole pulled her,” she said glancing toward one of the other young women, “into a house and nearly raped her before she was able to escape. And that ain’t new, either, but it’s happening more. People acting like wild animals out here.”
    “So you don’t know why you shot me?” As they’d been standing there, they’d lost the hungry, insane look that had initially made me mark them as junkies. Now they just looked like four terrified, confused young women.
    She shook her head, fear rolling off of her. I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the pain, and I entered her mind. I bit my lip as anguish roared through me, punishment for using my powers. I sifted through her thoughts, saw that in general, she was a good person who’d made a few mistakes. That what she’d said about how bad it was in this neighborhood was true, and had been true for quite a while. That she was afraid. Didn’t have a history of being a violent person. She was disgusted and afraid of what she’d done to me. She was terrified of me, of my glowing eyes and ability to repair myself.
    I nearly missed it. I was about to pull out of her mind when I felt it. There was a dark, tumultuous, cloudy feel, barely there, like the mere trace of perfume that’s left when a woman walks out of a room. It was dissipating, even as I felt it, studied it. And I felt one thing from it: chaos.
    I should have felt sorry for the woman, but I was excited to have my first real sense of Strife in someone other than a supernatural. And I was starting to put it together; what it looked like when she affected a Normal.
    I stayed in her mind. “I don’t suppose you have come across any strangers lately? People who didn’t seem like they belonged here?”
    She shook her head, but an image flashed across her mind, for just a second: a stately-looking woman, with skin the color of porcelain and white-blond hair plaited in one long, thick braid over her shoulder. Eyes that glowed a deep purple. A smile, the kind that made you want to do whatever she said, just so she’d smile at you like that again. Power. Different from mine, but very much there.
    Fuck yeah! My first view of the skin Strife was wearing. Finally. It was worth getting shot for.
    “Who was that woman?” I asked.
    “Who?” she asked, confusion rolling off of her.
    “Did you see a woman with glowing eyes like mine? But purple?”
    She shook her head, even more confused now. “Uh. You’re bleeding. A lot.”
    I pulled out of her mind, trying not to puke from the pain of using my powers. My nose was gushing blood now, and I felt the skin of my neck and chest cracking, splitting, as if the pain of holding my power was too much for my body to bear. And I felt the thing inside me, smug, enjoying my pain. I closed my eyes, released them from my hold on them. I could feel the moment they realized they were free. Relief. An insane amount of fear of me. Good.
    “You never fucking saw me. Understand?” I growled, and all four of them nodded. I gestured that they should take off, and they did, walking as quickly as they could away from me while still looking dignified and unafraid. I didn’t hold that against them. They’d clearly been in this neighborhood a long time. Letting anyone see your fear here was practically a death sentence. So you keep your head down, and you act cool, and you never let