"There's outcast in the hollows!" the old man exclaimed. Everyone, including Asher looked. Yet, within his vacant stare and the humming softly to himself, slowly those who did look the old man's way turned away with a better awareness of his current mental health.

"Whether the old man is right or not, you must appreciate the gravity of the situation Keeper," said Clive Rivers, a feline that possessed an instinctual fear of wolves, and the thickness of that fright on the air sickened Asher. The other Watch was some sort of amphibian whose scent reminded him of rotting vegetation.

He snarled at Clive, "Do you question my sincerity?"

Just as he had questioned the old man's mental instability, the eyes that looked upon him now questioned his. Only Vince Donavan had the audacity to laugh.

"Do we question your sincerity? He asked. "That is an odd question to ask Keeper when we sit here explaining our concern for the welfare of our people, and yet you can't even spare us a speck of interest. There is a plague spreading throughout the Union and whether or not you acknowledge this disease, it does concern you."

Casin was growing fidgety and Asher had little fortitude for children. Simply he had no idea what to do with them, especially little girls. Possibly if he continued to ignore her then maybe she would eventually give up hope of gaining his attention, and sit like all children should, quiet and unnoticed.

"There are members of the Union that are assembling together and experimenting with magic," Asher said. "I hardly see that as a plague and nothing you have told me proves that its death magic, when learning such magic is impossible."

"Learning death magic may not be as impossible as you believe Keeper," Vince argued. "Either way, magic in all forms is forbidden to the Union, except for the Keeper."

Asher considered Vince's bulkiness. In the end he decided that his size didn't matter a whole lot to him. "The matter doesn't concern me-"

"What kind of Keeper are you!" Vince exclaimed coming to an abrupt stand, knocking over Asher's empty coffee cup in the process. The china bounced on the antique Persian rug and shattered on a chair leg, while the remaining two Watches started to grumble between themselves.

Linn slapped her hands on the tabletop in complete frustration, while the old man began to laugh crazily for no apparent reason. And through it all, other than a slight twitch of acknowledgement the girl continued her annoying squirming, oblivious to them all.

"Asher this meeting must go on!" Linn demanded. "We have far too much to discuss, and regardless of your brothers appointed office, you are the Keeper!"

"Yes, I am the Keeper but the information you seek is with Ari and I-"

Cutting him off again, Linn added, "Are what? Disinclined to discuss matters you know nothing about?" Gus and the old man looked at him for direction and Asher's irritation grew. He just wanted to be rid of the entire lot of them.

Slowly, he turned to the little girl. She was small for her age with dark brown mousy colored hair, cut in an unattractive bob. She often appeared dirty whenever she showed up to the dinner table, and more often than not, late. As Keeper it had been his duty to provide for her along with her twin brother but other than hiring an occasional nanny to watch over them, Linn was right. He knew very little about them.

"Can't you sit still?" he said heatedly. "Is it too much to ask? I know as a child you have a short attention span and certain matters such as business bore you, but if you are to ever take over in your uncle's place, then you could at least give me the satisfaction of pretending to listen!"

"Asher," Linn gasped. "Don't take your frustration out on her. She's just a child."

"I'll take no rebukes from you!" Asher's eyes darted toward her. "Why shouldn't she listen? Why shouldn't she obey? I had to. You want me to instruct them then I will. What does it matter that she's a child!"

Asher was throwing what his brother often labeled as an Assher-fit. He hated losing control and yet he couldn't stop the process once it started. "That didn't matter to the Council when I was a child! When I was a child I was forced to think like a man! Do you think it mattered to them that I wasn't?"

"But it mattered to Grant," Linn boldly said, with a slight point of her determined chin. Asher stared deeply into her eyes, his breaths coming in long heated puffs, before he inclined his head and allowed his hair to fall forward to conceal his face.

Linn didn't deserve to notice his reaction. She didn't deserve to know just how furious he was at Grant. She had no business even speaking his name.

She didn't know him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Asher noticed little Casin's face, that wide-eyed expression when one was completely terrified. She was afraid of him, deathly afraid. He had noticed it before whenever she accompanied Ari. He had been a frightened young protege once and that revelation was enough to convict him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then directed his eyes on the child. Linn was right, she didn't deserve his frustration.

"I apologize you may go, all of you go," he murmured. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them. Casin was the first to move, racing toward the door in a scared fury. When she passed, Asher caught the distinct smell of urine. Snarling, he looked at her chair and found a puddle on the leather seat that was slowly dripping down to the antique rug. At least now he knew the reason behind her squirming.

"I guess you scared the piss right out of her," the old man chuckled, bones cracking as he passed. Asher hated him and he didn't even know why. The feeling went deep though like a long lost memory he just couldn't place. Linn remained put, firmly holding her ground, and only once everyone had gone did she clear her throat drawing Asher's thoughts back to her.

"You cannot dismiss or ignore this as easily as you did that child," she said eyes holding his. "Eventually you will have no choice but to acknowledge these matters as well as your responsibilities to the Union, or risk something far greater than urine on the floor."

"I didn't wish for this...for people to hate me. I never wanted to be Keeper," Asher quietly said. In Linn's silence he suspected her surprise. Getting up she moved closer and took the seat next to him.

"But you are Asher." Reaching out she touched his hand. The warmth of her fingers was foreign to him, unwanted. Recoiling, he moved his hands under the table where she would have little chance to touch him again. She lowered her eyes from his.

Was he mistaken?

Was she feeling sorry for him?

Clearing her throat once more, as though encouraging herself to speak, she proceeded. "You not only were marked at birth as a Keeper Asher, you were marked as a spirit twin. Don't you realize you're marked for greatness?"

"No, I feel that I was marked to die."

"Asher, a young death is part of the Raven's curse. You can't change it nor can you stop from falling in love. Eventually, you will have no choice and your fate will be fulfilled. To ignore the plans that were put in motion long before your birth is to accept madness."

"Then I'm in luck since some say I'm already there."

Standing up, Linn looked down at him. "Rise up Asher and accept your purpose. Only then will you make your life mean something."

Asher instantly looked away in the direction of the fire, stubbornly refusing to allow her to see just how great her words affected him. "When Ari gets home I will look at the information he has acquired in regard to this rebellion, and then I will handle it accordingly."

"Your brother has been your go between long enough Asher, it's time you give notice to the grave circumstances that surround you. You are in the presence of an uprising, and you don't even know its magnitude."

Asher felt it again, that anger that just seemed to join with his nature, his very essence. Using the rings in his eyes to express his rage, he altered them a hot fiery red until he could see the glowing reflection in the silver butter dish before him.

Lifting his gaze slowly, he met Linn's gaze. Jaw dropping, clearly shaken, she slowly sat back down, and not once did her eyes leave his face.

"Then I say," he stated evenly, "let it rise."

Before Linn could utter one word of response, footsteps sounded hard on the tiled hall. Linn twisted to look and Asher noticed her tight frightened mouth change into an approving, yet awkward smile. Kennedy, her pet student, approached.

"Yes child?" she asked.

"Asher wanted me to let him know when Nixon got home. He's in his room now."

"Very well then, I guess this meeting is adjourned." Asher mockingly winked at Linn. "Madam, as always, it's been a pleasure."

Chapter Four.

Unwanted Seed.

Leaving his shoes by the back door, Nixon snuck through the house in just his socks, paying special attention not to bump into anything, or give his presence away. They had lived in the house less than a month, but already Nixon had memorized the places to avoid. The squeak in the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the dining area was a dead giveaway that he was home, along with the loose floorboards on the stairs.

Standing in the hall, electing to go inside his room, Nixon strained his ears. Opening up his senses for claws on tile, the fast labored breaths he had come to associate with his father's animal form, he listened, but he heard nothing but the ticking of the alarm clock on his nightstand.

Nixon looked at the handmade quilt on his bed and shivered. It was the only thing he had left of his mother. She had paid special attention to each patch, making sure it was colors and patterns that reflected his personality. His favorite square was the one with the baseball mitt and bat in the center, trimmed in the same red thread she used to stitch his name in the upper right hand corner. Each one of those stitches she had sewn with love.

The walk home from school in the cold drizzling rain had left him chilled to the bone, and he wanted nothing more than to lie under the quilt in search of his mother's warmth. God, he missed her comforting arms after a long day at school. Anger rumbled through him. She was gone. She had left him to deal with his father's abuse...alone.

Taking a deep breath, Nixon crossed the threshold to his room. When nothing happened, he breathed a sigh of relief, figuring his father had passed out on the couch. Good, he could sleep and regain his strength before he reaped the consequences of Mrs. Jones's phone call. The sad part was Nixon actually liked science. He liked learning about different rocks and minerals, plants and outer space. One of his most favorite projects was the Styrofoam solar system that hung above his bed.

What he didn't like was dissecting things. It was hard on an ani-shift child attending a public school when it came to tearing apart a baby pig. His father didn't understand, because he didn't listen. One of Nixon's best friends was a pig, but his father probably didn't know that either. And then it came, the expected blow to the shoulder. He should have known.

One of his father's favorite places to hide was behind the door. This time the beating was over the D in science, but everyday his father found new reasons to punish him. At one time his father had been a normal dad. But things had changed. He was no longer the same man.

Nixon didn't want to remember Startled and disoriented he opened his eyes. For a moment he was nine-years-old again lying in a dark room listening for sounds of his father. Even now when he realized it was just a dream he couldn't stop the foreboding that his father was close by. Closing his eyes, Nixon found no relief.

For Nixon, there was no escape.

Groaning, he turned over on his back and draped his arm across his eyes. He remembered his father's smell-that musky animal scent mixed with fish and Old Spice aftershave, and he hated it. He started to dream of him again and this time when his father changed into the badger, he had red glowing eyes. He looked like some kind of demon instead of the father he remembered.

Swiftly sitting up, Nixon listened over his fear induced breathing. There was a noise, he was positive of that. There was someone else in the room with him. Well practiced in the art of defensive posture, Nixon quickly rolled off the bed, dropped down to the carpet, instinctively putting his hands in front of his face. This way, he could either make a fist or allow his flattened palms to act as a cushion between his face and his opponent's blow.

However, one quick glance through spread fingers told him he wasn't warding off his father's fist nor was he in the heart of a brawl; instead he was home in his room. Changing his eyes to that of an owl, Nixon saw that it was only Asher. He sat on the desk next to the bed, his lips curling upward in a devilish smirk.

Leaning over, Asher switched on the nightstand lamp. "Dreaming are we...Nixon?"

Nixon didn't like the pause before his name, as though there was a hidden meaning tucked neatly somewhere within Asher's words, but then again, when wasn't there? He pulled himself up onto the bed again and rotated the clock around so that he could see the time.

"I guess I blew off the Pillar Council meeting."

"It's not that I blame you since I despise them myself." Asher extended his arms and stretched. He was trying to intimidate him, this much Nixon knew. The guy was one tall lean fighting machine, and he typically wanted Nixon to take notice of that. "But since you made me look like an idiot in front of Linn," he said, twisting from side to side until his back popped, "I believe you and I need some time on the mat. I'm learning some new Aikido moves and I could use a sparring partner, one that might need a few lessons."

"I'm not gonna beg to get out of it Asher, besides I enjoy every opportunity I get to throw you around."

"We'll see about that." Asher's smirk quickly faded. "Ten years of putting up with your defiance is getting rather annoying. I wonder what would happen if I decided to take the keys to your new car. What would you do then hotshot?"

"Be my guest and while you're at it drop it off at the body shop. The garage door decided to jump in my way when I was parking. By the way, you might want to do something about that icy patch on the drive."

Asher muttered something under his breath and exhaled heavily. Nixon noticed it, the scent of mints drifting his way and knew that Asher had a tendency to consume a whole tin of them whenever he was nervous or really angry, and at this point in time he smelled pretty minty.

Nixon knew he was treading on dangerous ground since Asher was a master of practically every form of martial arts there was. He made it his daily regiment to spend hours in both physical and mental erudition. Asher never stopped learning or practicing ever, but then that never stopped Nixon.

"What will it take boy, me putting you in your place before you learn to respect authority?"

"Authority has to be worthy of respect first," Nixon dared. Asher shot a set of angry red eyes his way. No matter how disturbing they were, especially after his dream, Nixon made a special point to show that Asher's eyes didn't bother him.

"If you want the car back the keys are on the dresser. Take them and go so I can get some sleep." Nixon noticed Kennedy in the doorway and closed his eyes. He had figured the little snitch would go squealing to her master when he saw her sitting on the stairs. Asher hopped off the desk and crossing the room snatched the keys off the dresser.

"Oh come on Asher." Nixon slapped the mattress top. He hadn't really expected him to call his bluff. "You don't even drive. What are you going to do with a car?"

"Sell it." Asher deposited the keys into his pocket on his way out the door.

"You don't always have to do what he says," Nixon told Kennedy once Asher had left. "It's not like he really cared about the meeting."

"The meeting was cancelled. It was ten years ago that Grant died." She crossed to the window. "He went out there again looking for him like he does every year since."

"Oh, I see. In other words he went looking for Grant's ghost again. Man he really has lost his mind."

"Nixon," Kennedy said. "Asher won't leave Brokenridge. He won't shift either because he thinks it drains his magic."

"Asher's magic is his shield. He thinks it will protect him from the Raven but what's that got to do with anything?"

"I know what Asher believes," she turned her brilliant green eyes on him. "Don't you care about anyone but yourself?"

"Actually at the moment all I care about is getting some sleep." Nixon yawned and reaching behind him, fluffed his pillow. "But, since it looks like you're planning on hanging around, you wanna tell me what's up?"

"I'm worried Nixon, some real crazy things are going on." She had his full attention now. "Someone broke into Asher's office and hit him on the head. I found him lying on the floor knocked out cold this morning."

Disbelievingly, Nixon shook his head. "That's just crazy. He's a paranoid obsessive compulsive mental nut case who changes his security codes daily, and there's enough magic circling this house to zap the first person who tried to get in without his consent. How could you possibly expect me to believe that?"

Kennedy faced him. "It is true. I felt the lump on his head. He was knocked out cold!" she repeated with emphasis. "I just don't get it. I do everything for him and he doesn't even call me by my name. To him, I'm girl while you treat him with disdain and..." she trailed off when she noticed his smiling face.

He leaned back against his pillow as her eyes narrowed in thought. "I can't believe it, you vain manipulative little snot," he accused. "You pretend to care for him but truth is all you want from Asher is a ticket to spring break freedom."

Kennedy sighed, her thoughtful expression turning somber as she stared out his bedroom window. "You're just like him, cold and selfish but you're wrong Nixon. I do care."

"Fine, look if you don't have a reason to be in my room I can give you one or," he quickly added when she glared at him, "Since I get the feeling you do, you can just tell me what's wrong?"

Folding her arms over her chest, Kennedy tapped a few angry beats with her sneakered foot before she focused her attention back on him. "Ari didn't come home last night and Asher senses something's wrong. He wants us to go look for him. That's what's wrong."

Nixon shrugged, "So what, he's probably telling Trisha good morning about now."

"He's not at the Plaza or the office."

"Wait," Nixon sat up and dropped his legs over the side of the bed, "are you telling me that Ari missed the Pillar Council meeting?"

"Nixon wake up and smell the coffee. I just told you it was cancelled."

"Yeah, but Ari wouldn't have known that. Did anyone call him?"

"Linn did. She said Ari was on his way home to attend the meeting."

"See, so he wouldn't have known the meeting was cancelled." When Kennedy didn't get his meaning, he rolled his eyes at her. "Asher mentioned yesterday that his cell was missing, so I used the payphone at the bar to call the house, but the house phones were dead. Ari wouldn't have been able to reach anyone, unless Linn called him back herself to let him know the meeting was cancelled."

"She said she tried to call him last night to complain about Asher but he didn't pick up, and if you were using the bar phone, does that mean your cellphone's missing too?"

He gave her a nod. "What about yours?"

Kennedy slapped her hands at her sides. "I put it on my dresser and now it's gone and it was a gift too."

"What makes you think that Ari didn't go home with someone?" he asked. Nixon knew though. Ari had been worried about certain matters pertaining to the Union, and he would have done everything within his power to get to that meeting, even if it meant risking the weather to get there.