Rachael wiped off the blood-covered blade and stuck it back into the depths of her pocket. She had to admit, she’d been good with a knife ever since she’d found this strange weapon with an elaborately carved handle in one of the abandoned houses that she and Alex had looted. Turning it over in her hands sometimes and studying it hard, she wondered if maybe the graceful runes on it actually meant something. Probably not. But still, she liked to pretend.

     “You look awful lonely, love.”

     The voice belonged to a woman with a soft English accent, and the words rolled off her tongue like so much honey. Rachael was almost afraid to get a look at her addressor, but she shook her head to clear it and turned to see the most beautiful person she had ever seen. She was wearing the deepest shade of violet imaginable, with a black cloak that gave her an all-around gothic air of mystery. Long, mahogany-colored hair and piercing sable eyes finished off her countenance.

     “Who are you?” Rachael demanded. “And what do you want?”

     A clear, rippling laugh echoed through the alley.

     “My name is Asmarelda, love,” she returned silkily. “What do I want?” She walked circles around the confused girl, who stepped backwards and held her dagger out defensively. The woman chuckled and pushed the weapon away. “I know you as well as if you were my own sister, Rachael, and I have already witnessed your authority.”

     “A-authority?” the girl faltered, not knowing what to do. No one on this face of this planet knew what Rachael’s name was, or even cared. Why this strange woman, and why now? A chill crept down Rachael’s spine.

     Asmarelda smiled cunningly. “Yes, authority, love. Word on the street is that you remain unmatched due to that dagger and the incredible talent you possess. That no one has ever been able to hurt you without bearing a scar all their days, to remind them that you, naught but a sixteen-year-old girl, were able to defeat them. You see, love, I like that . . . People that stand out over the others with their brilliant abilities.”

     “What are you talking about?” Rachael snapped. The tone in Asmarelda’s voice was getting on her nerves and setting her on edge. It was scaring her, and yet it was soothing her…saying things that she needed, wanted to hear. It was entrancing.