Nessa had watched the Hunters leap high in the air, that weird blue lightning trailing after their weapons as they struck. The fight had been brief, much briefer than Nessa had imagined, but it had still been the coolest flarking thing she had ever seen.

The other girls were still busy celebrating when Nessa darted back into town. She wanted to thank them, needed to thank them, but there would be time for that later. Right now she had to check on the boys.

As she slipped past the first building, someone reached out and scratched the top of her head. Nessa yelped and spun, her right hand fumbling with her bag, searching for her knife. When she looked up, she saw it wasn't a someone, but a something. Something made of feathers and bone, hanging from the gutters. As she looked down the street, she saw more and more of them.

Her heart sputtered as she wondered just how bad things had gotten, and what she would do if Spratz and Bratz weren't all right. She hurried home as fast as she could without running, because somehow running would be to admit that something was wrong.

She was circling toward the house from the opposite direction of the fallen God. Nessa could see that most of the town was outside, still looking in the direction of the fight. She scanned the crowd, a plummeting panicky feeling growing when she got to the end of the line and didn't see them. But then a tall man moved to his left, and there they were, two short, exasperating, lovely perfect idiots.

Nessa snuck up behind her brothers and threw her arms around the both them, awkwardly squeezing them together.

"Flark!" yelled both of the surprised siblings at once, and Nessa couldn't help but laugh.

They turned around and she saw relief in their eyes.

"You're not dead," said Bratz.

"Nope," she said.

"They said you were dead for sure," said Spratz.

"Flarking liars," she said.

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She hugged them both again, as hard as she could. After a moment, she realized something was wrong. They weren't squeezing her back like she was their conquering hero, and they weren't trying to squirm away like she was embarrassing them. They were just sort of there.

Nessa pulled back, and saw that the relief in their eyes had been replaced with worry. There was something they weren't telling her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

The boys wouldn't speak, but finally Bratz reached out with his arm and pointed. She turned her head, following the gesture, and found herself staring at one of the mounds of dirt.

Nessa hurried over, her fears taking shape, but not wanting to admit it. She stopped in front of the mound, and for a moment she almost convinced herself it wasn't there, but then it fluttered in the breeze. A tuft of shaggy hair.

She said a prayer that wasn't answered as she brushed the dirt away.

Anthony's dead eyes were staring at her. His mouth gaped open. It was filled with marbles.

Nessa opened her mouth to scream, but didn't make a sound. She just staggered dumbly backward, mouth still open, until her legs gave out and she fell down. The tears came, and so did a high pitched whine from deep in her throat, and she covered her mouth with her hands and bit down hard.

"He should have trusted us. You should have trusted us," said a voice behind her

The voice belonged to the Daughter, standing behind Nessa with Mrs. Sparkless at her side. The pair was flanked on either side by some of their hardiest disciples, the Danvers boys among them.

Nessa jumped to her feet. She didn't know the story yet, and she didn't care. This was their fault. That was all that mattered. She sprang forward and punched Mrs. Sparkless in the face as hard as she could.

The old lady crumpled to the ground in a satisfying way. Nessa had the briefest thought of balling up a brown paper bag. The Daughter gasped, and looked at her with a mixture of fear and contempt, but she backed up.

Four men moved toward Nessa. She didn't have a plan, but she did have her big knife. She grabbed the handle, intending to start slicing and stabbing until they stopped moving or she did. That was about as much thought as she was capable of right now.

She was about to take the first swipe when there was a loud click.

"Now this is no way to celebrate a victory," said the newcomer.

Her opponents had backed up, so Nessa risked a glance backwards and saw the Hunter they called Blaspheme. She was pointing her gun at the crowd in front of Nessa.

"Now I don't what's going on here, but judging from the general lack of eyeballs, I'm going to guess you're not the good guys. So pick up your witch and be on your way. Immediately. If I come back here, and I will come back here, and something has happened to Nessa or her family…. if things are anything but hunky and dory, I will blow your ugly faces right out the back of your empty skulls. And that's a B guarantee from a big ole bitch with a big ole gun. Got it?" Blaspheme asked, that blue lighting dancing along barrel of her gun.

No one said anything else, but Rory Danvers helped Mrs. Sparkless to her feet, and they all left.

Blaspheme looked at Anthony and back at Nessa. Nessa knew that Blaspheme didn't know who Anthony was, but clearly she could tell that he was somebody to Nessa. The Hunter reached out and put her hand on Nessa's shoulder. It was all too much, and Nessa sank back to the ground, and leaned against the mound of dirt.

Blaspheme stayed for a few minutes, probably to make sure the others weren't coming back, before moving on. Nessa thought she said something before she left, but she didn't know what it was.

Years later, she would tell Blaspheme that this was the moment that they became friends.

Nessa looked over and saw Anthony's blue eyes. The ones that always looked at her like she was the only thing in the world. She sat and looked into those eyes for a long time, because it was the last time.

Finally, she reached out and closed them.