"Tell me again. What exactly did you see?"

I put my cup down and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "I saw a boy, one of the boys that we saw out that night, one who said 'Hello' to you. He was asking for my help, crying for it. He kept vanishing and then appearing again, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't 'see' him properly."

I broke off as the fresh memory was like a recording and stuck in my head playing over and over. I could still hear his pitiful plea and no matter how hard I bit my lip I knew I would cry again. I cried into my hands, hiding my face, the pain of it all still too close.

"And then what happened?" Daisy asked.

I swallowed and wiped my cheeks. "Then I smelt the smoke. The stench made me almost gag, and I saw the sky was filled with black smoke, above the brewery roof. I ran, following the smell and found the car."

"Why did you think the boy would be in the car?"

I searched her face to see if she believed the truth of it all. I could see nothing but blankness.

I shrugged again. "I don't know. I just had a hunch. I tried to feel around, to see if anyone was in there but the fire was blocking me. I've never felt that kind of barrier before. So instead I tried to open the car but then the windows blew out."

Daisy sighed and returned her cup to the desk.

"Rose, you did an incredibly brave and stupid thing. Listen to me now because what I have to say is important. If it hadn't been for Aiden shielding you from the others your secret would be out. Do you understand what I mean?"

She knew. She knew everything. Why hadn't I trusted her from the start? We hadn't talked about my gift at all, even though we planned to.

Something else stirred that I hadn't thought of before. "If I was burned by the fire, why wasn't Aiden? He landed on top of me when the fireball burst out the back window, it covered us completely."

She paused. "I've thought about this. And I think your gift healed him too. He was touching you, so it must have transferred to his body."

"How is that possible?" I said aghast. "I've only ever healed my family from sickness, and I've had to concentrate really hard to make it work. But with Aiden? I didn't even think about healing him, it was probably the last thing on my mind."

"Your gift only works with your mind set on the subject? Is that what you mean?"

"Yes, exactly. My face got scorched so I fixed it. The control I have over it is absolutely pin-point. I'm sure I would notice if my gift leaked out. This has never happened before."

"I don't know, Rose. But, despite this, you nearly exposed yourself with your callousness and your primal instinct. You have to take more care! Secrecy must be upheld at all times, we can't risk a story about you getting out, especially to the press. They'd have a field day," she sighed and removed her glasses, placing them gently upright on the desk.

"Daisy? Do you think Aiden's like me? You know, different?"

She sighed. "I suppose we shall find out soon enough."

I sat back to take in what I was hearing. Questions were still burning on my tongue but after I put my drink down I hadn't the strength to continue.

"I need to go to bed," and as I stood, the room blurred around in a haze.

"I should think so. We'll talk again tomorrow, and don't worry about the police or the paramedic. I'll deal with them," she said as she got up and led me to the door. "You just get a good night sleep."

"Okay."

I staggered to the staircase and hauled myself upstairs. I hadn't the strength to brush my teeth as I fell onto the bed and was finally lost in the darkness.

In my dreams the voice spoke to me again: 'They're coming for it. It's hidden behind stone. You must protect it. It belongs to you now.'

'Don't let them take it. You must guard it. Don't trust anyone.'

'Use your powers. Hide it. Keep it safe. It is your life'.

I stirred, but couldn't wake fully. I felt a sharp pin prick in the inside corner of my elbow but I didn't open my eyes. They were too heavy. I turned to lie on my side. It went dark again.

Halika Dacome "The girl wasn't listening. She was in danger and I needed her to know. I stood in the shadows of the large house, not the Dacome house but another, though they did not know I was there. I saw everything from the shadows. She had to know the peril she was in.

The black haired boy entered the room and waited. With his back to the boy, the old man continued plotting points on a wall map.

"Did it go according to plan?" said the old man, without turning around. He continued putting pins into the map. "More importantly, were you seen?"

"The plan went ahead with one slight hitch but I wasn't seen initially."

The old man spun round to look at the boy. He wasn't really a boy even, but a young man. His six foot frame was large, strong and his shoulders powerful. His skin was perfect and clear, as would have been expected, but his sapphire blue eyes shone with radiance and wildness. This young man was troubled, and he knew why.

He scanned the boy's face before speaking.

"SO, YOU RESCUED HER?" the old man's shout made the boy shrink a little.

"I had to. I had no other choice."

He pointed his finger roughly at the boy. "You could have thrown her into the fire, that's what you could have done. Then it would save me the task of killing her myself."

"She had friends with her, they would have seen."

"Who? Which friends?"

The boy sighed before speaking. "Mira Butler and Hannah Sambourne. They were with her when I returned to the car."

"The Butler girl and the Sambourne girl are unimportant. You know there has to be sacrifices if we are to reach our final goal."

"It was too risky, I wouldn't have had time."

The old man paced in front of the boy. The bare wooden floor boards shuddered as he walked. "So, come on, what's she like?"

"She's different, older almost. And pretty. She was at the coffee shop with Mira and Hannah first, and then they went to eat. I followed them to make sure they were out of the way. I had no idea she would smell the fire."

The old man peered into the boy's face as if searching for something. "So you saved her and now you're the big hero. This could work well for us after all."

"Yes, Sir," the boy hesitated before continuing. "What exactly are you going to do when you get her? Are you really going to kill her first? Or drain her blood? You know Daisy will stop you."

"I'm sure of it. The old lady will guard her well from the house. Her new friends will guard her outside. The trackers will guard her around the town. But her time will come; we just have to wait for the opportunity when she gets lost in the middle. As for her death, I haven't decided yet. I'm thinking of draining her, or possibly just extracting her heart and keeping her body so her gift remains fresh."

The boy's face fell in horror. "That's monstrous. The Seven will never agree to it. You can't do it to an innocent girl."

"Don't think for one minute that she's innocent because she isn't. You know that. She killed your parents. She deserves death, as you deserved life."

"That's what you keep telling me," the boy answered with annoyance. "Just remember though Grandfather, Rose Frost didn't kill them. It was Halika Dacome. There's a difference."

A thought seemed to pop into the old man's mind and he continued. "Do you think the girl knows yet?"

The boy shook his head. "Maybe. She wears the bracelet, I saw it for a short time but I don't think she has any idea."

"So, she's unaware of her true identity and her destiny, even though she holds the other Dacome bracelet. That's quite poetic, don't you think?" He lifted his sleeve to inspect his own bracelet, the saltire cross joined underside by one bar. He lowered his sleeve and continued. "She may think she's ordinary, with issues, like boyfriends, vanity, and angst. She has no idea at the power she will soon be able to harness. We have to stop her before she integrates, then we will be - almighty." He smirked at this last comment.

"But you said all along she would know of her fate. She's sixteen now, the Primord Elementals change at sixteen," the boy barked back.

"'Integrate', dear boy, not 'change'. You know better than that. If it happens, it will be soon so we must act quickly. The next few days are crucial. As for her being blind to her fate, well, it makes it more exciting, don't you think? I've always loved a good chase. But, we have to find out why she doesn't know. That's intriguing. Daisy's been holding back for some reason."

"How are you going to find that out," the boy said.

"Not me, boy. You. You're going to find out everything, and then tell me," Ben Deverill turned back to his map, and looked pleased at his own plan.

"But"

"When will you see her again?" the old man stopped his plotting on the map, and turned around.

"She'll be at the Annual Watch tomorrow night."

"Interesting. So, you must attend also. Get close to her. Pretend to like her. Take her out, give her a good time."

"And then?" the boy emphasised.

"Then we find her weakness and close in for the kill. You're the key. Find out everything you can."

"It won't be easy. Morgan McCaw lives with them. He won't let me get too close."

"That little pip squeak is as insignificant as the rest of them. I should have killed his parents when I had the chance," he thought on a fleeting memory. "Kill him if you have to. Just get close to the girl."

The old man turned his back; the boy knew the conversation was over. He turned and walked out the door, and stopped at the top of the stairs to listen. He frowned as the sound he heard was his grandfather laughing to himself.

"Aiden," the man said gruffly.

"What?" the boy returned a cold stare.

"Don't start having feelings for this girl. She is the enemy, you understand?"

"Yes, Grandfather," the boy answered quickly and walked down the stairs and into a small room away from his Grandfathers keen ears. He dialled a number on his mobile, put the phone to his ear, and spoke.

"Spencer, it's me, we need more watchmen tomorrow night, can you arrange it?" He listened and waited, then briefly answered with few words. "She's going to be there and we need to be vigilant."

Rose I was up early the next morning and ate breakfast as Daisy slept. I wanted to visit the cottage before she was up, check again for this mysterious object that I had to find. Morgan had still not arrived home, so I had to act quickly before he returned.

My dream last night had been weird. Aiden had appeared but I didn't remember much else, which bothered me. I had become quite accustomed to recalling my dreams and writing them down with precise detail. Now I felt cheated somehow.

It was not even seven o'clock as I stole into the garden and was quickly at the cottage. My footsteps stayed quiet as the silent door handle opened within my grasp, and I crept inside.

The room was the same, calm and silent. The begonia sensed my presence immediately and it gave a shiver of delight as I leaned over to the window sill and brushed my fingers against the new green shoots appearing on its stalk.

An idea instantly struck me that I'd never tried before. If the plant was responding to me so vividly it could help save time with my investigation.

With one silver tendril extended from my fingers I sunk it into the begonia's soil and mentally imagined a buried item behind rock or stone. Something hidden. Something where a gap in stone appeared like a cavity and an object placed, with a brick hiding it from sight. Human sight, I emphasised.

No, it said. It couldn't help; the cottage had only been its home for two weeks.

I sighed, disappointed.

A new image crept into my head. The yucca in the tall pot by the back door was the oldest; it had lived here since the cottage was built, the begonia said. Thanking the pink plant, I closed the back door behind me and sought out the yucca.

The tall terracotta pot was covered in green moss, but the long sword-like leaf shards of the yucca plant hinted of age. This plant was old.

Mentally and respectfully asking for permission first, I sank my silver veins into the green moss covered earth. Again, I flashed images of anything hidden behind stone.

Old and wise one, have you seen this? I asked.

A room downstairs flashed stacked with cardboard boxes, suitcases, an old lampshade, a bicycle.

Nothing else? I asked.

Nothing.

The images continued to flicker across my eyes. But the patch of daisies near the apple tree had been planted last spring. A wooden item was underneath but not under stone. The clover shoots were irritated as they had to push their way around the thick wooden base.

How deep? I asked.

The low wall around the cottage flickered.

Around half a metre? I checked.

Yes. Please remove the square. We don't like its touch, it hums, and prevents our flowers from sleeping, and they wilt prematurely. The noise, the hum, hurts the roots.

Thanking the yucca again, I promised a garden of sleep for them all once I had retrieved the box.

This box was under the earth, but the one I was searching for was behind stone. Were they the same? Had someone got their wires crossed somehow or had I misunderstood? I would investigate anyway, it was still early. The birds were chirping around the garden in the early dawn sun which was a sure sign that no one else was around.

Moving to the centre of the lawn, I stood and closed my eyes. Extending my gift to the house I sought Daisy's essence. She was still upstairs, moving between two rooms. Collecting laundry, maybe?

I blinked my eyes open in the morning sunshine, now much brighter. The lofty apple tree stood half way along the wall, it hadn't borne fruit of late, the buds were brown and rotten on the stems, and then I recognised the sick daisies below. The white petals were few on each flower head, bending back against the sunrays. The stems were marked with blight and aphids, and the bigger leaves underneath had been chewed by snails and grown badly gnarled. This patch was sick, and the earth looked under-nourished, empty of any nutrients.

Kneeling close to the flower patch, palms downs, I leaned over the area, slowly moving each hand in circles to feel for an abnormal source underground. As I moved my left hand closer I felt a vibration, faint but resilient, which pricked the underside of my skin like a sting. Waving the small area further, ignoring the uncomfortable tingling, I could feel a clear square against the solid ground elsewhere.

I pulled at the earth, using only my hands, digging it up, piling it around the edge in heaps. The further I dug down the more distinctive the thrum of vibrations. Halfway down the hole the soil colour had distinctly altered. It was no longer the usual ochre colour; the dull brown seams threading their way through the layers could be clearly seen.

It was while I rubbed some soil from under my nails that I stopped mid motion. I felt a stranger moving close by and heard a noise behind me. The soft footfalls were getting closer. It wasn't Daisy. Her steps would have been lighter.

The grass crackled under another heavy weight as the slow steps got closer. I stopped my movement completely and remained still, ready, waiting.

Two metres away, then one metre.