Vopros had left first.

He had arrived under Irissa's house right on time and the girl had come out with the dignity of a queen. She was wearing a red dress that exalted her perfect skin and raven hair, let loose like a river of black gold over her pale naked shoulders.

She moved towards Vopros's car and stopped a second to look at it.

«If you no like car, you go alone.» said Vopros, after three good minutes of her staring at his precious Simca. She snapped out of it and put an apologetic smile on her face. Vopros grumbled and extended himself over the passenger's seat, opening the door to her from inside.

Cautiously, she sat down in the car. She checked that her dress wasn't caught in the car door and slammed it. Twice before it closed properly. Then she fastened her seatbelt. Or at last, she tried, because it had been broken for years. As much as Vopros liked to make changes and improvements on the Simca 1000, he never worried about the details. Like seatbelts. Or airbags.

«I still no understand why you asked me to bring you.» he asked, revving up the engineì.

«I just wanted to spend time with you. That's all!» she said, sitting very ladylike.

«I can be grandfather to you.» he stated, going back into the traffic.

«I know, but you're... interesting.» she looked down at her hands collected in her lap, with a sudden rush of rosy color to her cheeks.

«I old man who blows up stuff. You find it interesting, you read storybooks.» he suggested, following the slow evening Boston traffic.

Irissa bit her lower lip.

«May I ask you a personal question?»

Vopros darkened. Then sighed. The road was long and blocked with traffic.

«You may.»

«Are you truly an anomaly?»

Vopros kept his eyes forward, didn't even flinch, maintaining the most perfect and awkward silence. For five minutes. Then, she decided to speak again.

«Well?»

«I say you may ask. I never say I answer.»

«Oh, come on! I won't tell anyone!»

«You won't. Because you not know.» his tone was blunt. His lack of eye contact was a very good dissimulation of the clenched jaw she could guess under the cured beard and mustaches. His eyes had slightly narrowed, and his grip on the wheel had tensed.

«I don't ask to judge you, or to make fun of you, or whatever you may think. I just want to know...»

«Why you want to know?» asked Vopros, after five other minutes of complete silence. «So much you ruin your evening asking old man to be your plus one?»

«I just wanted to hear your story to... better understand.»

«Why you care?»

She bit her lower lip to the brink of bleeding.

«Because... I am one. I am an anomaly.» she said, in one whisper.

«You strange power, you just young, you learn to use it, no problem.» he minimized, without even looking at her.

«I can't control it. Because my power is not a problem. The other... Irissa, that comes out, she's a completely different Irissa. We're two, in this body.»

«That happens a lot with mages. Magic is no good with head.» he said, with a darker tone now. «You just remember who is real Irissa and she stays under control.»

«That's the point!» she blurted out. «We don't know who's the real one!»

«What?»

«When I woke up after my magic manifested... I couldn't remember... we couldn't remember who was the familiar and who the personality. We don't know which personality is the starting one.» she moved her hands nervously as Vopros's expression grew grimmer by the moment. He knew a thing or two about memory problems with magic. And he didn't like what Irissa was saying, one bit.

Again, five minutes of silence. Vopros looked at the road, but every now and then let the corner of his eye slip to catch a glimpse of Irissa's face. The girl was looking out. Her face was serious and, somewhat, sad. Vopros tried to ignore the sensation kicking him in the back of his head for as long as he could.

«Magic is strange. It is not science. Science has few anomalies, and you know science is good. In magic, you have many anomalies. If Order don't discover you, you can still do bad. So, you just have to ask you question: am I safe for others?»

«And... what was your answer when you thought that question?» she dared to ask, as they turned another curve and the concert hall appeared in the distance. Vopros didn't say a word more. He looked for a parking lot, parked the car with just one, swift movement, got off, went around and opened Irissa's car door with the gallantry of a true gentleman. They started to walk, in silence, towards the entrance where people were already gathering.

They were but two steps from the wall of people, when Vopros's voice, not louder than a whisper, reached Irissa's jeweled ears.

«I am.»

But they had already gone up the stairs and entered the foyer.

Irissa was immediately reached and sucked in by a group of her Academy classmates who were squeaking compliments aplenty on her beauty and her dress. She looked back to try and remain with Vopros, but the old Russian had already moved towards the buffet table.

Chico had already arrived. After a lot of thinking and pondering, he had decided that it was time for Carlos to live a little. He had polished up his faithful apprentice and brought him with him. If, one on hand, he was hoping that the poor boy could have a dreamy night, lost between fairy-tales dresses and fancy food, on the other hand, he really hoped that exposing him to the powerful aura that all those mages had around them could help with his development.

Garaham and Francesca were already there as well. The Enforcer had never been so tense in years. He had to admit that he didn't miss the rush of adrenaline at all. It was gnawing at his stomach so much he had taken up a glass of white wine as they had arrived and hadn't drunk a drop of it, while Francesca had already downed two.

She was gorgeous, in a siren-cut peach dress with a bow on her perfect bottom. Her curly hair was let down and perfectly framed her delicate features, her blue eyes gleaming with the enthusiasm of finding herself surrounded by her favorite people: everyone who mattered in the Order.

Thanatos hadn't lost the occasion to come near, to compliment Francesca in his usual slithery way. Now the two were talking sparklingly beside him, who in comparison was a silent rock entirely composed of stomach acid.

It was an illustrious absence that was plotting against his blood pressure and gastric health right now. He was very sure he had said "right on time", and it was quarter past seven already.

He didn't have to wait for long.

River in a perfect black tuxedo, with his tie slightly slacking on one side and its knot loosened, his hair artistically tousled, his face gleaming and his eyes glistening was even more stunning than the usual.

Banshee paled in comparison, but she was perfectly aware of the fact. She was noted just because she had a hand wrapped around River's arm. But to at least one person in the room her hair carefully curled around the face, her black dress, with a high neck, naked shoulders, a deep back neckline and a half-thigh slit that showed way more muscular leg than necessary, didn't pass unnoticed. As they entered, River was literally snatched away by three people.

With his eyes already glaring hate, he left Francesca to his chitchat with Thanatos.

Banshee felt her arm being grappled by a grimly-faced Enforcer.

«Oi! Mind the arm, ye'll leave me signs, me skin's delicate!»

«Didn't I told you, very precisely and more than once, to be on time?»

«I know! There was a lot of o' traffic, and I mean a lot!»

«You came by car?» asked Garaham, puzzled.

«Oh, the car came, all right. Don't know about her though.» chimed in River with a dashing smile, winking towards his ever so enraged brother. Banshee shot River a glare, and he laughed merrily.

«I don't think I understand.» Garaham hissed through his teeth.

«Well, he doesn't have a car, and I don't have a car, so he turned into a car and I had to drive, and I hadn't driven fer so long...»

«I told you I was sure you were still amazing in driving stick!» River commented again, with the full happiness of someone who has found a bottomless pit of jokes, while Garaham just wished for a bottomless pit.

«River, shut yer pie hole!» Banshee exclaimed.

Garaham shot a murderous glance at his brother and dragged Banshee some step farther.

«How, in the whole realm of truth and reality, would you have ever thought that to ask our target's Enforcer to be your date, and thusly to sit beside you during the whole happening of tonight, would be a good and fair idea?» Now he didn't even open his teeth to hiss his rhetoric questions.

«Because I didn't want to be the dorky wallflower arriving without a date. I still have pride! And it's hurtful and medieval that all of ye seem to think that a woman could be reduced to one of two stereotypes: hopeless tomboy or femme fatale with nothing in-between!» she rose up her chin, looked him straight in the eye.

«There is absolutely no way to express an apology that wouldn't precipitate me and the entire masculine gender in a bottomless pit of contempt, is there?» said Garaham, crossing his hands behind his back. «However, I can rebut to this statement, pointing out that a proud and independent woman wouldn't feel belittled by the lack of a companion on a social event, but rather empowered by the notion of her rebellion against this society's chauvinist lifestyle impositions.» he added, with a sudden seemingly benevolent little smile on his face.

Banshee's eyes closed down to a slit.

«So, I did piss you off, didn't I?» she smirked.

«Banshee! I would have never recognized you if I remained on the other side of the room!» chimed the phoniest cheery voice, as Francesca appeared beside her husband, with the third glass in her hand, a shiny fake smile and an absolutely hostile body language. «My my, this dress is such a step up, it suits you wonderfully. Black really makes your skin shine even more than usual.»

«Thank you, uh, Mrs. Chief.» it looked like a failed comeback, but under her apparent respectful look, the slight slur in the pronunciation left that mischief quite audible. Francesca smiled at her. Banshee smiled at Francesca. Garaham felt the urge to duck under a table.

«Callme Francesca, dear, after all, I won't be Mrs. Chief for long.»