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When Melissa realized their audience was getting out of hand she snapped her fingers and pointed towards the ‘Staff Only’ door off to the side of the bar. The gathering made a token effort of breaking up their party only long enough to get to the door. It was a disorderly shuffle of half-naked bodies and stumbling laughter as they disappeared one by one into the club’s back room. Melissa kissed Ms. Silver one last time and whispered something to her. Then she made sure that the other woman’s mask was back in place and gently pushed her towards the door. The young woman gave Michael a jealous look as she walked away but went with the others without complaint. The four guards who had been blocking the crowd moved with her, two of them following Ms. Silver inside while the other two took up positions outside the door. The guards didn’t belong to Melissa. They were here with Ms. Silver. That was interesting. ‘I appreciate the cookies, even if it wasn’t what I ordered.’ Melissa said. He. You kill my brothers. You see us. You will tell DarkFyre that Grassmen visit the Flyers. This cannot be.” Something flittered, ever so briefly, across Rael’s face; a flash of confusion, or perhaps curiosity. Then his jaw set in that expression of unbending will. “Then it seems we are at an impasse,” he said in a voice as calm and soft as a looming and patient death. “Yes,” the Haruke agreed. Then, his eyes flickered to where Silmaria perched up in the rocks. “Your woman?” Rael bristled, and he bared his teeth in a snarl. “Don’t look at her.” The Haruke gave the ghost of a smile. “She kills like a man. A good woman. She does not try to kill again, we will let her live.” Rael’s eyes narrowed. He stepped to the side, circling to the left. The Haruke followed his example, and the two men began the slow, purposeful steps of a dance that would end in death. “But we have seen you. We cannot live. You said it yourself.” “You cannot live,” the dark haired man corrected. “You are a Daleman. A.
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