While the others had wilted and died and come back and died again, Holly’s determination had grown, until she’d used her cunning to kill a vampire and then go for help. Hunters had come and eradicated the rest of the nest, and Holly had found her destiny. The girl had two sides, one made of anger, and one made of love. Anything that provoked the anger or endangered that which she loved was doomed. The old man approved.

She had come back to the site of her horror. The old man wondered if the hole seemed smaller to her now. Did it seem insignificant? Compared to the other things that she had faced without flinching, it must seem insignificant, this dark place. But then again, it must not, because she had sat next to the edge of the pit for hours, always remembering, hating the vampires that had taken her, sometimes crying, occasionally talking to herself, or perhaps to the ones that had died around her. The old man could have saved her the time. Those spirits had moved on. They were not restless, like him.

Holly was strong, stronger even than she or any of her friends realized. Coming back and facing again the test that had made her a Hunter would hone that commitment. She was an ideal choice for this task.

The only problem was that she wouldn’t heed his words. Your friends need you! He was practically shouting. Even with all of the excess magical energy leaking into the city from the rift, she wouldn’t hear his voice. Why will you not listen to me?

Because there aren’t very many living that can hear us good, his companion told him. The champion’s in tune with the dead. Most folks ain’t.

Then we need another alive person to serve as messenger. And that gave the old man an idea. The champion came from a special bloodline, prepared and honed over generations to fulfill a prophecy. That particular challenge had been won, but then he’d been drafted for another. There were no more prophecies, and fate would be determined by mortal choices. But the champion was not the sole inheritor of that prepared bloodline. Come, my friend. New strategy I have. Not a Hunter, but I know a man that will hear us.

I hope this works, Mordechai.

The spirits left in search of another. Holly, exhausted and emotionally spent, had finally had enough and decided to leave the warehouse. She contemplated setting the place on fire and burning it to the ground, but her conscience wouldn’t let her, on the off chance there were some bums sleeping in the neighboring buildings. As Holly made her way back into the light, she checked her messages and found one from Owen Zastava Pitt.

David “Mosh” Pitt woke up on his hotel room floor with an agonizing headache. He was no stranger to hangovers, but this one was particularly epic.