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accompanied by a strange, but not unpleasant, musk. Like the smell of freshly turned earth. Tionne couldn't recall the stranger moving. It felt as if they had been further down the bar one moment, and very nearby the next. As they sat there side by side, Tionne's sidelong gaze was drawn to the hood again and again, as if through force of will she could see past the veil of darkness.
    “ You're a bit too tipsy for that to be an option,” the stranger said. The voice was definitely feminine, but it had a strange, deep burr to it.
    Tionne went rigid. She was tipsy enough that command of the Quintessential Sphere would have been difficult, but normally she was more on guard. She hadn't felt the stranger touch her thoughts and her lapse in self-defense was as disturbing as the violation itself.
    “I apologize,” the stranger said softly, still not turning to face Tionne, though the girl had now swiveled on her stool to face the interloper. “That was rude of me. Still, we had to know that you were one of us.”
    Tionne's eyes narrowed. There were few things she distrusted more than inclusion in a group. She had learned those lessons painfully from the other students in the Academy. Groups were good only for excluding others …usually for excluding Tionne.
    “ One of who?” she demanded, all pretense of patience gone in a flash. “You don't know me. How do you know what I am or who I belong with.”
    With surprising speed, the stranger's hand snapped out and caught her wrist. Tionne tried to pull away, but found the grip more than enough to hold her hostage. She could feel the fingers inside the glove, they were thin and delicate, but strong. The stranger turned to face her now, still just a dark expanse of black under the hood.
    The stranger's other hand pushed up the sleeve of Tionne's robe, exposing a line of old scars just below the elbow, as neat and tidy as a farmer's furrows. The stranger traced these with a gloved fingertip and Tionne felt a strange longing spread through her. It was similar to what she felt when she looked at Aluka, but much more intense.
    “Stop,” Tionne said, pulling her arm away. This time the stranger released her and Tionne pulled the sleeve down, covering the old scars. The touch had unnerved her. Her reaction to it, doubly so.
    “ Rest easy, Tionne,” the stranger said, exposing her own arm. The skin was the color of a leaden sky, a light, warm grey that was both surprising and seemed perfectly natural.
    A gloved hand pushed away the cloak and the stranger turned the inside of her arm to show Tionne a much longer line of scars like her own. Instead of fine white lines on pale skin, these were faint black lines on grey. Even so, Tionne could see that they were made from the same type of injury: a self-inflicted wound with a very sharp blade.
    “ So?” she asked, unappeased. “We share some scars. Nothing more. Who are you?”
    The stranger pushed the hood of her cloak back and Tionne gasped. She was surprised on several levels. The first of which was that the woman hidden by the cloak was possibly the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. Fine silver hair was brushed back from her forehead, flowing down her back like a moon touched waterfall. Her skin was uniformly grey and smooth, like the surface of a river rock worn down by eons of sand and water. What set her apart, and caused most of Tionne's reaction, was her eyes. They were wide and round, seeming to Tionne to be much larger than they should be. They were an opaque red, with just the faintest glimmer of light, like a single ember burning from across a dark clearing.
    “ I am Nerillia, of the Lamiad,” she said, inclining her torso toward Tionne. “We share much more than scars, Tionne. We share an affinity for the blood. We crave it. We want to control it. I'd like to talk to you about who I am, who I represent, and what we can offer you, if you would hear me.”
    Tionne tumbled that about in her mind. If you would hear