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that dwarves were often born prematurely, and that such premature children were allergic to certain types of magic? How the hell had he known that? Dwarves were so rarely seen that it seemed impossible to him that Alex had ever delivered a dwarven child, yet he knew so much about them!
    It was uncanny.
    And what about the elves? The Sidhe were reclusive and their animosity toward humans was legendary, yet Brauer knew all about their ceremonies and even some of their healing magic. It was inconceivable that an elf had allowed Alex to attend a healing circle, and elven ceremonies were always conducted in strictest secrecy, yet Alex could speak for hours on the subject. He was jealous. He knew he was, and suspected that Alex knew it too. Still, it was not a destructive kind of jealousy. Far from it—it drove him on and made him determined to learn everything that Alex had to teach.
    He yawned widely and stretched his arms above his head. He checked his wristband and realised that he had been on call for sixteen straight hours. He should be exhausted, but all he felt was a pleasant tiredness—like a man who knew he had accomplished something worth doing and was ready for sleep.
    He switched off his lamp and shrugged into his jacket before stepping out of the office he shared with Alex. The lights in the corridor seemed overly bright after working at his desk with just a single lamp. He made his way along the corridor with squinted eyes until he stepped outside into the night.
    The air was pleasantly cool, and his breath smoked. He breathed deeply of it and crossed the car park toward the far side. His car, that only a few hours earlier had been accompanied by dozens of others, now sat alone in an ocean of empty space. His colleagues had left for home hours earlier, and those working the night shift had chosen to park closer to the entrance for a quick getaway come the morning. He smiled, imagining the stampede of tired people pouring out of the hospital doors in the morning.
    David drove through the empty streets not really seeing their dilapidated state. He had long since become used to seeing the boarded up windows of abandoned homes and stores throughout the area. He hardly noticed the empty lots full of refuse anymore, or the hunched figures trying to warm themselves around bonfires built inside steel drums. The homeless were a common sight in the area.
    He frowned in discontent at the music his car was playing for him. He wasn’t using the autopilot, yet somehow it had defaulted to one of the old play lists Michelle had used with it as if trying to remind him of her. It annoyed him. He didn’t want to think about her rejection of him, and he certainly didn’t have to put up with her music anymore. He fiddled with the controls, trying to select something with a proper beat. He took his eyes off the road for a second—he would swear it was no more than that—when the woman burst out of the alley and ran straight in front of him.
    “Holy shit!” He yelled cranking the wheel and stamping hard on the brakes. The car fishtailed and the tyres squealed punctuated by the crunch of breaking glass. He wrestled the car straight and stopped. The woman lay in the road where he had put her. “Oh my Goddess,” he panted and fumbled for his seatbelt.
    He climbed out of the car and ran back to the motionless form noting the amount of blood spreading around her. He called for an ambulance on his link while checking her throat for a pulse. “I’m at the corner of Second Street,” he gasped in his urgency.
    “Put her in the recovery position, sir,” the operator said in calm and even tones. “Do you know any first aid, sir?”
    “I know what to do, I’m a doctor,” he said and checked the woman’s vitals. She was breathing regularly and her colour was good. She had a strong pulse. He thumbed back her eyelids. Pupil dilation normal. “She’s bleeding but—”
    “Well now, what have we here?” A throaty purring voice came