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[Introduction] Munroe, Alyssa and Jack wake up in the lobby of a large, victorian style home. None know how they got there, save that the night before in different places across the country, each had decided to drink in excess. How'd they get there? Where is there? And who the hell got them there? More so....why can't they get out?

I opened my eyes slowly, regretting it as soon as the light hit my retinas and screamed through my head ricocheting within my sull with all the subtlety of a nuclear war head.

Hangovers. Suck.

I groaned, closing my eyes for a brief moment, and then reopened them. It didn't help in the slightest.

“The fuck...” I muttered, to myself finally letting my sight focus on the ceiling. A ceiling I had never seen before, high and arched, a wrought iron chandelier hanging from it's center. Candles rested within the circle of it's frame fluttering and twisting in a slight draft, causing shadows to slide and stretch over the walls.

I sat up fast, looking the room over. In two of the corner, two other forms were bathed in shadows their features indistinguishable due to the gloom. Here and there, oil paintings of people in various periods of garb hung, their never closing eyes a constant vigil over....where ever the hell this place was. A set of stairs rested in the center of the room, leading upwards towards a large landing. The furniture was over done, all victorian woods and velvets.

I practically growled, catching sight of myself in the mirror. I looked as I always did, swimmers build, six or so feet tall. Hair the color of straw hanging to just above eyes the color of storm clouds. Flip flops, jeans, and a shirt that read in a rather elegant script: “I like my women like I like my whiskey, 12 years old and mixed up with coke”. It was just the mirror, this whole place, didn't look like -anything- in my life usually did.

I had never been here before. Ever.

I moved towards the door, opposite the stairway and grasped the knob. Locked. I pulled at it, hard, using all of the strength gifted to me by being the ancestor of a fallen god. I can rip a normal door of it's hinges with next to no expenditure of effort.

It didn't budge.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me...” I muttered to myself, resting my aching head against the smooth, polished wood of the door.

Frustrated, I turned towards the room, vertigo washing over me as the hangover once again reminded me that I needed to quit drinking sooner rather than later. There were no windows that I could see, just smooth expanses of wall broken only with portraits and draperies.

“Allright. Joke's over, let me out.” I yelled to no one in particular.

My head pounds as I struggle to even sit up, I remember sitting in my small office and drinking quite heavily. I remember holding my gun and pointing it...at myself but unable to pull the trigger and then nothing. Snapping my eyes open I try to sit up and immediately regret it, the nausea and dizziness overwhelm me and I ease myself back down onto the cool hardwood floor.

Slowly and quietly so as not to attract attention I slide my hand to my shoulder holster, my Walther P99 and two spare magazines are still there. Reassured by their comforting weight I slowly reach down and check my boot, the knife is still there as well. Finally I work up the nerve to open my eyes, the soft light from the candles alone is almost enough to push me over the edge not to mention the mind splitting headache.

Toughing it out my vision finally settles enough that I can get a good look around instead of just a harsh white glare, it appears that I'm inside some sort of old Victorian house that has high vaulted ceilings and elaborate chandeliers that radiate candlelight bring a warm light to an otherwise darkened room, its flickering flame throwing weird shadows over the faces of the paintings that adorned the room.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me...” a male voice sighs; apparently I'm not alone here either. Looking to my left my suspicion is confirmed when I see a man in his twenties resting his head against the door, obviously trying to shake the effects of his own booze induced hangover.

Turning back to the room he gripped the door for support “Allright. Joke's over, let me out.” he yelled, making it seem as though there was a viscous child stabbing my temples with a fork.

"Hey Asshat!" I snap not in the best of moods myself "You mind keeping it down over there, there are other people in here that are a little fucked over right now from booze!"

As he turns to face me I get a good look at him; he's close to my height of 6'4" and has blondish color hair that hangs down over his eyes, his eyes are a kind of stormy grey and his build is very lean. His clothes consist of; flip flop sandals, jeans, and a shirt with the script I like my women like I like my whiskey, 12 years old and mixed up with coke.

All of that taken together leads me to believe that he was at a party or something when he got "transported" here, for a moment he looks a little taken aback but then he starts to laugh. A big booming laugh that's almost as bad as the yelling "Fuckin asswipe" I mutter as I survey the rest of the room; aside from the door that King Shit is trying to break down there's one other door and that's about it besides paintings and drapes.

Looking in the corner where I woke up in I see my fedora and unconsciously rake my hands through my short black hair, walking back over I crouch down and pick it up, squaring it on my head I move to stand up only to see a third person in the shadows.

Moving over to her I gently shake her "Are you okay ma'am?" I ask, old training and experiences flooding back. Receiving no response I'm about to get up and keep surveying the room when she moans in pain, looking closely at her I notice that she's wearing the type of clothes I typically see at clubs and raves every time we mounted a major operation and sent teens to lockup by the truckload.

It’s her clothes that give me the idea "Ma'am I know this is going to sound weird but I need one of your bobby pins, is it ok if I take one?" other than moaning she gives no response so I quickly take one and head to the other door. After trying the door to make sure it’s locked I slide my knife out from my boot, bring the bobby pin to the knob and begin to pick the lock.

Within the space of a minute I've got the lock picked, sliding my knife back into its sheathe in my boot I swing the door open. I turn back to the asshole "Brain beats Brawn every time Asshat" I smile as I touch two fingers to my fedora in an informal salute and walk out the door, slamming it on my way out.

I winced as the sound of the door shutting echoed through my skull with reverberations of fresh pain. I groaned, shaking my head and pulled the door open, stepping through to follow the cheap Sam Spade knock off, leaving it open behind me in case the girl in the corner woke up.

I was greeted with the sigh of a banquet hall. Yes, a banquet hall straight out of some medevial castle. The smell of food hung thick in the air, though what was on the table couldn't have been the source. It was disgusting, rotted. Fruit lined with mold, meat buzzing with flies. The same sort of chandelier hung over head, casting more of the same dancing shadows so tied to candle light. The places, already set, held portions of the rancid food, the silverware dulled and tarnished from the weight of years.

The smell nearly made me sick alone, not counting the added oomph the remnants of the booze was doing on my stomach.

There were windows here, and looking through I was greeted with nothing but inky blackness. No star filled skies, no moon. Nothing. Blackness, so deep and thick it seemed almost liquid. There were no other doors, save the one we had entered through, and the walls, aside from the windows held more of the same portraits.

I paced the table, looking at each place, searching for anything of note. Some clue, sembelance of what this place was anything. I was greeted by a smirk from the pulp detective, and rolled my eyes. That's the problem with humans dealing with the unexplained, so sure of their own place in things. Granted, I was just as human as the next guy....if you took away the divine ancestory. I can be killed, I get sick....it just takes a lot more.

He seemed content to be doing as I was, looking around. Trying to find an answer. It's not every day you wake up to find yourself in a joint that looks like a set reject from the Munsters.

I eyed him up and down for a long moment, pulling a pack of cigarettes from my pocket and lighting it.

I paused.

The flame, was pure blue. No traces of the typical orange. No yellow sparks. Blue.

I cut my eyes again to the guy, quirking a brow.

"I'd venture I know the answer to this, but do you have the foggiest idea as to what the fuck is happening here?"

Voices, male voices, slowly drew me from my alcohol-induced stupor. The voices came closer. Someone gently shook me, a tentative touch. I moaned softly, drawing my eyebrows together. The voices faded, moving farther away and then disappearing all together. I was alone in the room. Was I dreaming?

I had been out dancing with the girls and we had a bit too much fun. Danielle had insisted on a girl’s night, and I was happy to oblige. I had been spending a lot of time at James’ house lately and needed a little ‘me’ time. My body ached and I feared where I had ended up. The last thing I remember was happily dancing all up on some guy in the club. I didn’t want to open my eyes, I was afraid of what I might see. It was time to face the music…

My head was throbbing, already pounding while my eyes were closed. I wasn’t looking forward to what this headache would turn into when I opened them. I slowly opened my eyes, squinting into the dim light, scanning my surroundings. Soft candlelight flickered throughout the room, bathing the Victorian décor in its soft amber light, casting odd shadows onto the walls.

I sat up quickly, in a state of panic. Big mistake…an immense wave of dizziness and nausea rolled through me. I slowly laid back down on my side, closing my eyes against the waves, breathing deeply to halt the bile in its path up my throat, my cheek resting against the cool hardwood floor.

As soon as that horrible feeling faded, I opened my eyes, pushing myself up into a sitting position. Some auburn escapee curls hung in my face. I blew the renegade hairs out of my face and looked around the large room. ‘Where the hell am I?’ I didn’t recognize this place at all.

Oil paintings of people in period clothing hung on the walls sporadically throughout the room. There were no windows at all, but there was lush drapery hanging throughout the room. There was a staircase in the center leading to a large landing. There were two doors that I could see. One of those doors was cracked open.

I slowly stood up, a little wobbly on my three inch strappy heels. I used the wall to steady myself, spotting a mirror across the room. I walked toward it, slow and steady. I muttered to myself, "Ugh…these heels need to go." I looked into the mirror.

I stared into my aqua blue eyes. I had applied heavy mascara and liner prior to going out; now, it looked a little worse for wear. I carefully wiped away the black smudges at the corners of my eyes. My hair was in an up-do with tendrils of hair escaping strategically and lightly brushing against my cheeks and neck. The blush that I had used had just a hint of fine glitter in it and made my cheekbones more prominent, giving my face a more exotic look.

My lips that had started off the night painted a deeper shade of red now were very faded. I was wearing a black halter top that displayed my already abundant cleavage with its plunging neckline, and a black leather mini-skirt that looked painted on. I adjusted my top, making sure I was covered. No nip slips here. I tugged my skirt back into place and smoothed it.

I sighed, shaking my head, and thought, ‘God, I would give anything to be in an old sweatshirt and comfy jeans right now. How the hell did I let Danielle talk me into wearing this?’ Remembering the black cashmere long-coat I wore out last night, I turned and looked toward the corner where I woke up. Sure enough, the coat was lying on the floor.

I walked back to the corner and picked up the coat, shrugging it on over my shoulders. I used the wall to steady myself as I unbuckled the strappy three inchers and took them off. They may look nice, and make my ass look great, but they were killing me.

I straightened from my crouch against the wall, heels clutched in one hand. I needed to get a feel for the place. I would use a skill I learned during my stay at James’ house. I closed my eyes and opened myself to the house.

I sensed two energies in the room next door. I didn’t sense any other presences, but there was a feeling to the house. I didn’t quite know how to describe it…I just couldn’t pinpoint it. I slowly opened my eyes and walked toward the door that was cracked open.

“What is that smell?” A faint rotting, or what I would recognize as a necrotic scent, was emanating from the doorway. It smelled like a really bad bed sore. The closer I got to the door, the stronger the stench became.

Under normal circumstances I could handle this smell, but right now, after a night of heavy drinking, my stomach was doing flip flops. I covered my nose with my free hand and leaned against the doorjamb peering into the room beyond.

It was a really medieval looking banquet hall complete with food, rotting food, spread over the center table. Ah, the source of the nasty smell. There were two men standing in the middle of the room. They were both tall men, both over six feet making me feel really small.

The man with blondish hair lit a cigarette and stared at the flame for a bit. His eyebrow raising as he looked to the other darker man in the trench and fedora, he said, “I'd venture I know the answer to this, but do you have the foggiest idea as to what the fuck is happening here?"

The guy in the trench looked toward the man, then past him looking at me, raising his brow. The blond man turned to look at me. I straightened from the doorjamb, walking further into the room, looking into the blonde man’s storm gray eyes I said, “If you know the answer to this, please, enlighten me…My questions is, what the fuck is happening here? Better yet, where is here? What is this place?”

I looked from one man to the other, “I’m Alyssa by the way. Who are you?”

“I'd venture I know the answer to this, but do you have the foggiest idea as to what the fuck is happening here?" Blonde asks

I'm about to answer his question with the expected answer when the female that I borrowed a bobby pin from earlier peeks out from behind the doorjamb, before when I borrowed the bobby pin from her she was covered by shadows and therefore her features were not noticeable.

Out in the light however I realize that she looks painfully like Jessica, inhaling sharply I catch the stench of rot in the room and struggle to hold back tears from both the rot and the woman who could pass as Jess's double.

“If you know the answer to this, please, enlighten me…My questions is, what the fuck is happening here? Better yet, where is here? What is this place?” She asks, the question sounds like something Jess would say. Firmly shoving the ghosts of the past from my mind I begin to turn away from her but not before she says “I’m Alyssa by the way. Who are you?”

Jessica, Alyssa I can't take it anymore...she's only been dead a few weeks. Turning away I grunt out "Munroe" in what I hope to be a non emotional voice, for the sake of my own sanity I can't have either one of these two asking me if I'm "okay" or "alright" I just can't or I'll snap.

Neither one of them says anything so I begin to scout the room the same way as the last one, using the horrible stench to actually focus my mind on anything other than Jess. I'm still poking around when I hear a pricing scream from the next room followed by a mighty crash, drawing my Walther I snap it up at the door that leads to the next room.

Moving silently, my legs a little bent I approach the door and put my boot to it. Not only does the door refuse to yield but I get a stinging pain in my foot, ignoring it I slam into the door repeatedly until on the fourth swing the door swings open before I can hit it.

Stumbling into the room I tilt forward, going with the fall I turn it into a decent combat roll and come up on my left knee with the Walther up and scanning. I don't encounter a hostile, all I find is a bloodbath centered around a single chair. Strapped into the chair is a little girl, blood spills out of her empty eye sockets as she turns her intense glare on me, accompanying it is an intense buzzing that gets so bad I grip my head with my free hand. The buzzing abruptly stops and when I look back up again the girl is gone and the pristine chair sits in the center of a pool of light in contrast to the rest of the pitch dark room.

I let out a long exhale before holstering the Walther.

"Jack." I said calmly, appraising the new participant in this little joke we'd all been subject too. I turned my eyes towards the girl and raised both brows appraisingly, and almost choked on my cigarette. I'm a sucker for a pretty lady, descendant of a god or not.

Then the scream came. I could of beat the guy who called himself Munroe to the door without much effort. I was a bit faster than most. Better to let him get decapitated than me.

I came in a moment later behind him, and was bombarded with the same image. I shook my head, taking a stagger step back, hand bracing me against the doorjamb. I groaned, as waves upon waves of sickening deaths washed over me. It may have been an illusion, but what powered it was real. A lot of people had died here, and almost on instinct I could feel the lineage of a long dead god inside me begin to take hold. My hair, normally blonde, starting to lengthen towards my shoulders, becoming and almost inky black. My skin, normally pale, bronzed considerably and began to emit a faint aura of light. My eyes began to take on a very inhuman amber shade. I stopped it, reigning it in and working my way back to my normal, everyday appearance before it got any furthur only through an effort of will.

"Fucking hell."

I looked down at my cigarette, crushed between my fingers, the blister from the ember already healing. I discarded it on the floor, and surveyed the room, the chair, then up towards the light.

I cut my eyes to Munroe, then back at the girl in the other room. I didn't say a word for a long moment before I walked towards the chair and reached out tapping my ring against it. It was made of iron, for a reason. Ever since I had dealt with the big bad wolf, yes THAT big bad wolf, I tried to keep cold iron on my person.

There was a near explosion of green sparks, as the iron band struck the chair. Slivers of light exploded off of it, dropping to the floor like molten metal.

I groaned my displeasure audibly.

"Faeries...of some sort."

I plopped into the chair, looking between the other two, trying not to let me irritation show.

"I'm open to useful suggestions?"

After I asked my question, I looked over at the man in the trench coat and fedora. His eyes briefly met mine, and then dropped to the floor as he turned his back to me. Barely audible so I had to strain to hear him he grunted, “Monroe.” Alright, either that’s his last name or he had some very unique parents.

I shook my head and turned my attention to the other man. He looked at me, raising his brow as he exhaled a plume of smoke curving outward from his lips. He simply said, “Jack.”

As soon as the name left his mouth a piercing scream and a loud crash echoed throughout the room. I jumped, my head turning toward where the sound came from, my heart beating in my throat, eyes widening.

I watched as Monroe drew his gun and ran across the room toward a door that was barely visible from where I stood. He tried to kick it open, but to no avail. He kicked at it three more times in rapid succession, then when he was winding up for the fourth, the door swung open and Monroe stumbled through the door.

I moved closer trying to catch a glimpse of what lay behind the door. All I could see was blood, lots of blood. My brain clicked into nurse mode. I ran toward the blood and gore, hoping that I could help when my view was blocked by Jack as he stepped into the doorway.

That was when the voices flooded my head, pleading voices. The voices were effective in stopping me in my tracks. I shook my head, but the voices wouldn’t stop. I strained to look around Jack with my hand to my forehead; my breathing shallower, chest heaving.

Jack staggered against the doorway, my attention turned to him. He grabbed onto the doorjamb. His hair lengthened and darkened, his skin bronzing with an ethereal glow. He quickly transformed back. His hair shortening and returning to his original straw color. His skin paling out to what it had been prior to his perplexing transformation.

He looked down to the cigarette between his fingers and cursed, “Fucking hell.” He threw the butt to the ground and looked back to his fingers.

The voices in my became louder, screaming. I curled in on myself, elbows to my knees, my hands to my temples, pressing. One word came forward in my mind loud and clear…Death. As soon as that revelation came to the forefront the screaming stopped; just stopped. I slowly stood up from my crouch and looked toward the room.

Jack had left the doorway and walked into the room. He stood next to a chair. I walked toward the room, eyes scanning. No blood. Monroe was just inside the room on his knee with his gun drawn. His eyes a little too wide, showing a bit too much white, he exhaled loudly and holstered his gun.

I looked back toward Jack who was tapping his ring on the chair in the center of the room. The action sent an explosion of green sparks into the air, they quickly dissipated toward the floor. I was a bit taken aback when he groaned aloud and said, “Fairies…of some sort.” He walked in front of the chair and flopped down into it.

His brow knitted in frustration, he looked from me to Monroe, “I’m open to useful suggestions?”

I walked forward into the room, clutching the open ends of my jacket and wrapping it around myself. I shivered, though it wasn’t cold in the room. I looked toward Monroe and raised my brows in question. He quickly looked away from me. I narrowed my eyes at Jack, a veritable explosion of questions immediately came into my mind and instead of reigning them in, I let them fly out of my mouth.

“I certainly don’t know anything about faeries. You must though…to even have mentioned them. You must know something about them. What do you do when you’re up against the fae Jack? Or rather, up against fae magic…What aren’t you telling us?”

My hands waffled in the air, “I saw your little transformation back there Jack. What the hell are you? Cause you sure as hell aren’t human! Please...enlighten us.” I stood there, hands on hips, waiting for him to answer me.

I tuck my head to my chest and scrub it intensely with my hand, lifting my head I see him tapping some sort of ring against the chair at the center of the room only to have luminous green sparks fly off at its touch. What the fuck I look on in stunned fascination “Fairies... of some sort” mutters before collapsing in the chair.

“I’m open to useful suggestions” he hints, his gaze boring twin holes in me. Yeah me too buddy I think drily, in truth I’m a little but swamped with all this too. I’m just a small town detective turned insanely successful PI who’s dealing with the death of his wife and child with booze, supernatural happenings aren’t exactly my area of expertise.

Breaking my train of thought for a second is the woman Alyssa, she raises her eye brows in question and looks so much like Jess it hurts. Turning away I’m about to suggest something half assed when Alyssa inadvertently saves me from doing so, “I certainly don’t know anything about faeries. You must though…to even have mentioned them. You must know something about them. What do you do when you’re up against the fae Jack? Or rather, up against fae magic…What aren’t you telling us?”

She waves her hands in such a comical manner that it almost brings a smile to my face, her words do the exact opposite “I saw your little transformation back there Jack. What the hell are you? Cause you sure as hell aren’t human! Please...enlighten us.”

As she puts her hands on her hips I draw the Walther but leave it at my side “What the hell is she talking about Jack?” I demand

“Look its complicated and you-“ He tries to cover it up but I cut him off when I raise the Walther and take aim at his head

“You will give me a straight answer or so help me god I’ll give you a third airhole!” I grind out as I rack the slide.

I sighed.

“You will give me a straight answer or so help me god I’ll give you a third airhole!” Munroe said, and leveled a gun at my head. So my attempt at diversion had been half hearted at best. Still, a normal....pulling a gun on me...Jesus. Christ.

I quirked a brow and stood taking a few slow, measured steps away from the chair. I'll give him this, there wasn't so much as a twitch in his hand. He kept the gun leveled between my eyes with a deadly precision.

My eyes cut to the woman, and once again, I let them blatantly roam her curves. She seemed perfectly content to let this guy shoot me if need be. Granted, it wouldn't kill me. It'd hurt like hell and take me outta the fight, but it wouldn't kill me. I heal quick. Real quick.

"Allright, no need to get all hostile." I said my voice rather bland and monotoned. "You wanna know about faeries, we can do that."

"We're waiting." Alyssa said.

"Faeries are..." I paused, turning over words in my head. "Well it depends on the fae. Wild fae are ideas, given shape. The Seelie, which aren't that bad, are dreams...then there's the Unseelie...

I stopped, letting my voice trail off as I noticed the shadows in the room. They were darkening, seeming to grow and crawl across the floor like puddles of ink. Like heartbeats, they throbbed, pulsating.

"And we're the nightmares and bad things." A woman's voice said from behind me. "Though, that's all a matter of perspective."

whirled around, ignoring the gun trained on me and looked towards the chair. Seated on it was perhaps one of the most unearthly beautiful creatures I had ever seen. She was smiling, revealing a set of perfectly white, perfectly pointed teeth. Her hair hung around her in a massive cascade of coppery glowing red. A dress did little to hide her, shall we say magnificent curves, clinging to her like a second skin. Her eyes were what got me the most. Solid black. No white. No color. Just two pools of utter darkness.

She stood and it was all serpentine motion, slinky and sexual, and looked the three of us over. Munroe had relocated the barrel of his gun, training it on her now. Still no shake. The guy was a professional.

I put myself in front of Alyssa, just in case. My body tensed, power practically thrumming through me. It was an almost effort of will to keep from changing again, and freaking out the natives.

"Oh, how rude of me. I'm Morgan le Fey...or Morganna, or Morgaine. Doesn't really matter which. Perhaps you've heard of me. I was in a few of those silly books about some king named Arthur. They really didn't do me justice."

I quirked a brow, looking between Munroe and Alyssa. We didn't say a word but the unspoken communication was clear. Shit was getting deeper and wierder by the minute, and not a one of us was fond of it.

"So since you three will be the entertainment for the Unseelie Court on this Midsummer's Eve let me get a look at you." She continued, eyeing me. "We have the descendant of a god." She grinned.

They both looked at me now, and I shrugged, a 'Who? Me?' gesture.

And then her eyes drifted towards Munroe and Alyssa. "And what praytell makes you two so special hrm?"

I was impatiently waiting, my hands still resting on my hips. Jack was too calm, even with Monroe’s gun pointed at his head. I widened my eyes at Jack, giving him the ‘go on’ gesture, I said, “We’re waiting.”

Jack looked toward me, his storm grey eyes shining in the dim light of the room, “Faeries are…Well it depends on the fae. Wild fae are ideas given shape. The Seelie, which aren’t that bad, are dreams…then there’s the Unseelie…” his voice trailed off as he turned his attention to the shadows, eyes shifting to the floor.

I looked toward what had caught his eye and noticed that the shadows had grown; pulling down off the wall and swirling over the floor toward us. I took an involuntary step back. The room had filled with malevolence. I looked toward Jack inquisitively. That’s when I noticed her. She was sitting in the chair behind him.

My eyes widened, heart rate quickening. She was beautiful but there was something about her. Everything inside me screamed powerful, evil. Her eyes were a fathomless black, teeth shiny white and pointed, her unnaturally red hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. Her dress was painted on, leaving nothing to the imagination.

I remembered what the voices had conveyed to me earlier before abruptly stopping the pleading and screaming in my head…Death. This woman seemed to emanate death in waves. I was suddenly cold. I grabbed onto the edges of my coat drawing it around me tightly, huddling into it. I exhaled a long ragged breath; a white haze escaping my lips. It reminded me of Minnesota, home, in below zero weather. I opened my mouth to warn Jack about the creature behind him but was quickly cut off.

“And we’re the nightmares and bad things.” She cocked her head to the side, “Though that’s all a matter of perspective.”

Jack immediately whirled around; she smiled at him, standing up in one fluid movement looking from Jack to me to Monroe, studying us. I glanced at Monroe; he had shifted his gun from Jack and was aiming it at her. He must have sensed the same thing about her I had. Jack tensed up and stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the mysterious woman. I moved to look around him; I wasn’t going to let her out of my sight.

Her brow raised and then she spoke, "Oh, how rude of me. I'm Morgan le Fey...or Morganna, or Morgaine. Doesn't really matter which. Perhaps you've heard of me. I was in a few of those silly books about some king named Arthur. They really didn't do me justice."

Jack looked back at me briefly.

"So since you three will be the entertainment for the Unseelie Court on this Midsummer's Eve let me get a look at you." She continued, eyeing Jack. "We have the descendant of a god." She grinned.

I knitted my brow and looked at Jack who shrugged in response to my unasked question.

Morgan’s eyes drifted toward Munroe and I. "And what pray tell makes you two so special hrm?"

I was somewhat shocked by her question. There was nothing special about me; nothing special at all. I pulled my coat around me tighter as she stalked toward me. The air seemed to get colder the closer she got. I glanced at both Jack and Monroe before my attention returned to her.

She stopped about a foot in front of me. Cocking her head to the side she said, “Hmm…there is a familiar air about you. I just can’t put my finger on it.” She stood there looking thoughtful. She narrowed her eyes and sucked her teeth as she stood in front of me, studying me.

She lunged toward me. I flinched and took a step back. “I know what you are! I cannot believe that I couldn’t tell right away…I can taste it in the air.” She shook her head from side to side, her red locks sliding around her shoulders. “You taste and feel the same as my old mentor.”

I just stared at her incredulously, “I’m nothing special. What the hell are you talking about?”

Her eyes roamed my body, making me shudder. Her eyes finally met mine, licking her lips she said, “Cambion, you are cambion.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

"And what pray tell makes you two so special hrm?" Morgan la Fey asks

"Nothing makes me special, I'm just a washed up PI who's neither a father or husband" I think drily however I say nothing.

As Morgan paces around Alyssa I notice her wrap her coat tighter, almost as if the temperature is dropping however I feel no change. Unfortunately that's not the biggest of my worries right now, according to Morgan this Jack character is actually the descendant of a fallen god. If that's the case and he really was transforming back there then I'm gonna have to keep a very close eye on him and keep my distance, tuning back into the conversation I manage to catch Morgan saying

"Cambion, you are cambion"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she asks, before Morgan can respond I jump in

"A cambion is a half human child resulting from a succubus and a human male or an incubus and a human female," I answer, angry about the fact that it seems like there's no one I can trust here "It means that you're abnormal just like the two of them" I say gesturing at the other two with the Walther.

Morgan laughs "It seems like you've done your homework-" she starts to move towards me but I bring her up short

"Don't you take another step," I command my voice full of contempt "I've studied Arthurian legend Morgan, I know you were nothing but a traitor and a snake to King Arthur and Queen Guinevere"

She lets loose another laugh that grates on my nerves and sinuses "Well it appears you seem to know quite a bit about me and a fair amount about the supernatural in general despite your low tolerance for it," she says with grudging respect and takes another step towards me this time I make no move to stop her "I can sense that you'll be important in ways you'll never even imagine, I don't know how or why or even when but I can sense that you will be important in the future"

"Fuck you," I say evenly "I take bullshit unsupported fortune telling with a grain of salt"

Morgan laughs again and now its really starting to annoy me "Oh its been so long since I met a human like you, usually they just stand in awe and fear but not you...I like it"

"Oh well then I'm glad I could amuse you," I reply testily "Now if you'll excuse me I've got a building to escape from" I say and turn to the door.

"Oh you humans," Morgan calls condescendingly "You know you won't be able to get through that door don't you?" Morgan asks mockingly. Pissed off as it is I wind up and kick at the door knowing that I've already made myself look like a fool but much to my surprise my foot connects with the door and it flies inward with a shower of splinters. Hiding my surprise I turn around and give the surprised Morgan my best Go fuck a potato smile before grabbing the pocket flashlight I carry and flicking it on.

Crossing the doorway I proceed down the stairs and into the dark, dank, crypt like basement. As my puny flashlight cuts a swath of light through the darkness I try to put out of my mind what Morgan said "I can sense that you'll be important in ways you'll never even imagine, I don't know how or why or even when but I can sense that you will be important in the future" since when I kicked the door I didn't feel stronger, the door felt weaker...almost like some higher power was giving me a way out.

My eyes bounced towards Munroe, just briefly as he kicked the door down. I didn't bother to hide the impressed look that crossed my face, nor did I miss the slight look of agitation that crossed the faerie's features when he gave her that smile.

"Looks like you missed the mark on that one lady." I said calmly, and turned to Alyssa.

"We can stand here with her, or follow him." I said.

She nodded, already on her way to the door. I looked back to insert a rather snarky remark to Morgan, only to see the place she once held vacant.

We caught up to Monroe rather quickly, standing at the bottom of the stares staring at the scene before him with grim determination. When I spoke, he held up a silencing hand, pointing to the scene in front of him.

I turned, taking in and felt a look of slack jawed awe fall over me. Somehow, by going down, we had managed to end up outside. Not just outside but in a forest as far as the eye could see, bathed in shadows. The trees, towering oaks held cobwebs like lace draping lazily towards the ground. A heavy blanket of fog had settled over the ground, weaving through vines and underbrush like a sentient creature, moving despite the lack of a breeze.

More disturbing were the skeletons, the bones of animals and humans...well humanoids, half buried or lying atop the thick coating of dead leaves that covered the ground.

It dawned on me then, what Morgan had said. We were the entertainment. More than that, we were the prey. It was a hunt, a Great Hunt. The faerie of the Unseelie were using us as sport. More so, this kind of landscape, I didn't think we weren't holding the home team advantage.

I stepped forwards, looking at both Munroe and Alyssa, preparing to speak when I saw it. A simple flash of color against the darkness out of the corner of my eye. Rather than say a word, I lunged, knocking the poor girl into the detective, sending them stumbling to the side.

My leg erupted, just above the knee, in a wash of mind numbing pain. It was like someone had injected red hot shrapnels of rubbing alcohol coated glass into my thigh. I dropped to one knee, fighting to keep moving as another arrow thumped into the grass behind me.

In the distance, a horn sounded. It was a long, hollow note that seemed to reverberate off the trees, even the air itself.

We were all just standing there staring out over our new surroundings trying to figure out how the hell we were in a forest. We had taken stairs that should have led to a cellar or dank basement. This place was creepy as hell.

The forest reminded me of the cliché graveyard in the middle of the night. You know, filled with low-lying fog and bathed in shadows. That wasn’t the worst of it though. The trees were draped in what looked to be cobwebs and there were skeletons, animal and human, littering the leaf strewn ground.

I remembered what Morgan said, “So since you three will be the entertainment for the Unseelie Court on this Midsummer's Eve let me get a look at you.” Entertainment? What kind of entertainment?

Jack turned his attention to Monroe and I, looking as if he was about to say something. Instead he lunged toward us, sending me stumbling into Monroe hard; we fell to the ground in a heap.

After the initial shock of falling to the ground, I looked toward Jack to give him a piece of my mind, when I noticed that he was on one knee with a grimace spread across his face, he was clutching his thigh. I heard a whir and a thunk, as what looked like an arrow landed a foot away from me. Someone is shooting at us! A horn echoed through the woods around us, a long sorrowful note.

I instinctively ducked my head, some auburn wisps of hair fell into my face, I blew them out of my way and got closer to the ground. I looked over my shoulder toward Monroe, who was on his stomach with his gun drawn. He seemed fine, so I turned my attention to Jack who was now lying on the ground. I started to low-crawl toward him.

I was half-way to him, when I remembered that Monroe was the only one of us who is armed. I turned back to Monroe and asked, “Do you think you can cover us while I figure out what is going on with Jack?”

He just stared at me, as if to say, “What do you think I’m doing’ chicky?”

I continued my crawl to Jack. When I finally reached him, I grabbed on to his pant leg only to find that it was bloody. Jack looked down at me, sweat glistening on his forehead and upper lip. He looked very pale; all the blood had drained from his face. His fingers were wrapped around an arrow that was embedded in his thigh. “Jack DO NOT pull that out!”

His hand fell away from the arrow, “God! It fucking hurts!”

I looked up into his storm gray eyes and said, “No shit Sherlock! Ever felt pain before? Just don’t touch it, we have to stabilize it.”

I ripped his jeans from the cuff up so I could get a better look at the wound. I was being careful not to wrench the arrow as I tugged. The fabric ripped with ease.

Monroe yelled, “You know we’re sitting ducks out here right? I hope you don’t plan on treating him right now. We need to get some cover.”

I looked around, “The door is gone…shit!”

Monroe looked toward where the door had been, “Then we’ll get to the woods and get behind one of the trees for cover.”

I looked back to Jack, “You think you’ll be able to at least stand so I can help you into the woods?”

He was breathing shallowly, he nodded, “Yeah I think I can.”

I looked back to Monroe, “Have you seen anything?”

“No.”

I got up into a crouch, helped Jack to a sitting position. I put his arm around my neck, my arm around his waist, “Monroe you ready? Jack?”

They both answered in the affirmative. “Okay let’s go then.”

I hoisted Jack up from the ground in one smooth movement. His eyes widened and he sucked in a hissing breath. “Try not to put pressure on it Jack. I know it’s easier said than done, but try.”

We ran as fast as we could toward the woods. My bare feet were getting pretty beat up by the bones and rocks. Jack and I were leading the way; Monroe was covering the rear. When we reached the edge of the woods, I leaned Jack against a huge oak tree and helped him ease down into a sitting position. Monroe was near enough to see the wound and arrow sticking out of his thigh. I glanced from him and Jack, “I need to stabilize this.”

Jack shook his head, “No…you have to take it out. There is something coating the arrow.”

I looked at him incredulously, “How the hell do you know that there is something coating the arrow? You want me to pull this out? No way. It is way too close to your femoral artery. You’ll bleed to death.”

His lips curled up into a smirk, “I heal fast, really fast.”

“Oh yeah, descendant of a god and all that, I forgot. Alright this is going to hurt like a hell. I have to break off the arrow tip so we don’t rip your wound wider.” He nodded in response.

I wrapped my fingers around the shaft of the arrow, placing the side of my hand firmly against Jack’s thigh, “On the count of three: one, two, three!” I quickly broke off the arrow end. His back arched against the tree, he gritted his teeth, but didn’t say a word, didn’t even scream.

I looked him in the eye, “Now I am going to pull out the arrow.” I wrapped my hand around the fletching of the arrow and stabilized the base of the arrow with my other hand. I inhaled loudly, looking Jack in the eye, I said, “Take some nice deep breaths and close your eyes for me.” He did as he was told. I yanked the arrow out in one smooth movement. Blood spewed from the wound in bursts; spraying the leaves around us.

“Shit! I fucking knew it!!!” I threw the arrow to the ground and pressed the hand that was stabilizing the arrow against the entrance wound and my other against the exit wound. I put as much pressure as I could onto his wound; leaning my body into it.

Blood seeped around my hands in streams. I looked into Jack’s eyes. He looked back but he was doing the long blink, as if he was going to pass out. “Stay with me Jack, look at me dammit!! Do NOT close your eyes!”

He closed his eyes and I screamed my frustration. I had to remind myself to stay cool in this situation; then and only then could I think. I looked back to Monroe who was looking at me with a question in his eyes that said, “What can I do?” I shook my head, closed my eyes and concentrated on the wound, on the pressure I was exerting in order to keep Jack’s life blood from leaving him completely.

My hands became warmer against the wounds, I continued to concentrate. Thinking, “Heal, heal, heal.” Someone gasped, breaking my concentration. I opened my eyes and looked into Jack’s now open eyes, his color was better, and he was smiling.

I glanced down to my hands which were emitting a soft white light against his wound. I pulled my hands back quickly. Jack was completely healed; the only thing remaining was the new shiny pink skin where the wound had been. I had watched someone heal like this before, but I had never been able to do it. I raised my hands up in front of my face, “What the hell?”

“Um…guys? We have company.” Monroe had his weapon trained on something. I turned to look and gasped at the sight of it.

There stood a goblin-like creature. It was about two feet tall with green tinged skin, widespread bat’s ears, two horns on its bulbous forehead, a tuft of black hair stood up on the top of its head. His yellow eyes were trained on Monroe, the eyes looked wild, feral.

It had a sinister grin spread across its face that showcased very sharp pointed teeth that completely filled its mouth. The goblin’s body was thin, but man-shaped, not grotesque. It was dressed in nothing more than a loin cloth with a quiver of arrows lying across its back. He had his bow at the ready and pointed at Monroe. He was so still; you could barely see his chest rise and fall.

I heard Monroe ready his gun, the little goblin smiled even wider as three more goblin men walked out from the shadows, weapons trained, they surrounded us.

I looked at the goblin men, and then glanced from Jack to Monroe. I threw my hands up in the air and said, “Well this just keeps getting better and better. How the hell are we going to get out of this one?”

I only dimly hear Alyssa's question, my mind has already slipped into "combat mode" and so anything not having to do with the enemy in front of me is all but drowned out. My heart pounds in my chest as time slows to a crawl, the ugly little goblin like creature in front of me raises his bow and I can see his pudgy fingers tense as he draws back the bow.

Before he can fire I immediately squeeze the trigger on my own weapon, my shot hits him on the right side of his chest and he utters a gurgle as he falls to the ground, the arrow that he had on the strings goes flying. Diving to the right I draw a bead on the second hostile and mid dive I pull the trigger, a hole the size of a marker appears in his forehead while the back of his skull explodes outward painting the tree behind him with bits of brain framed by blood.

Landing on my side the air explodes out of my chest with an "oomph" coming up on a knee I scan around for the third one with my weapon, just as I spot the ugly little fucker the wind picks up ruffling my trench coat. We both fire at the same instance, the wind takes my shot wide with it landing square in his left shoulder, as he spins like a top his arrow lances out at me and penetrates deep into the area around my collar bone only being stopped from coming out the other side by the bone itself.

As it hits I get slammed by a wall of pain and my vision grays out, by the time it goes back to its normal tint Alyssa's dragged me to the base of a nearby tree and rested me against it while Jack moves from one of the goblins to the one I shot in the shoulder, a second later I hear a yelp followed by a gurgle before he falls silent.

Focusing more on my own predicament I see Alyssa about to tear my shirt off in order to get a better look at the wound, reaching out with my good arm I grip her wrist with my gloved hand and bring her up short "I've only got one set of clothes out here," I grind out through the pain "And I'd very much like to be able to wear them again"

She draws her hand back and I release my grip "Well then what am I supposed to do?" she asks looking annoyed

"Break the shaft down to size..." I gasp as a wave of pain overtakes me "...and then slide the sweater off over the tip" I get out before my head drops to my chest as I struggle to get past the pain. I feel the shirt getting taken off and when I finally bring it back up I see her staring at my chest, her eyes shifting over the various wounds I've accumulated before she settles on my newest one.

"Alright so I'm going to pull the head out and then heal the wound okay." She states before her hands move towards the wound but again I intercept her

"No, no healing...if you're going to do anything you'll do it the old fashioned way" I grind out as I fumble for my knife with my bad hand blinking back the tears of pain, slapping it into her hand she just stares at it.

"Look Munroe I can do this a lot faster with my abilities and-"

"No!" I bark reaching into my coat pocket on the ground beside me and pull out the lighter I carry around, I let go of her wrist with my good hand and put the lighter in her other hand "Either the old fashioned way or not at all" I hiss.

Getting a resigned look on her face I see her bring the knife up to eye level "Alright...well this is going to hurt" Alyssa warns with her voice wavering.

Not trusting myself to speak without my voice shaking I simply nod, without a seconds hesitation she digs the knife into my shoulder. Exploding in pain I bite my lip until I can taste blood in my mouth and clench my good hard enough to make it go numb but not once do I ever scream. Finally she stops and with a sickening squelch she yanks the tip out, throwing it aside she signals for Jack to come over and clamp his hands over my now gushing shoulder.

With him keeping pressure on the wound she stands back up and lights the lighter, holding the blade in the flame for several minutes I feel as though I'm about to pass out when she finally snaps off the lighter and squats back down with the glowing hot blade only mere meters away from my shoulder.

"Are you sure about this Munroe?" Alyssa asks "Because I can still use my-"

"No...just do it...now" I stammer cutting her off. Sighing she waits a second and then brings the blade down onto the wound, the pain is unbearable and after only a few seconds I let out a small scream of pain before it overwhelms me and I lapse into unconsciousness.