In the middle of the intimidatingly grey and cold Police interview room Rani huddled forward over a featureless table. The small Hindustani woman shivered but whether that was due to the ambient temperature or as a reaction to her recent… trauma she couldn't be sure. Where was Katinka?
       Rani had watched the top half of her apartment building explode but she was sure – almost sure – she'd seen something streak away from the carnage and up into the night sky. She'd been numb with shock but just for a moment the flash of nebulous light had appeared to look vaguely dragonish… The woman closed her eyes tightly: the shock was thinning now and the terror had almost left her, leaving room for the grief. Where was Katinka? Rani couldn't quite bring herself to believe she'd actually seen her lover transforming into a dragon. It was impossible! She hunched further in on herself: but then, when she'd been attacked by that monster outside the cemetery, that had seemed impossible, too, at the time, and it had been Katinka who'd saved her...
      The door opened and Rani looked up expecting to see another grim-faced uniformed member of the Police saunter in to have another go at getting her to tell her version of events. In light of what she thought she'd experienced Rani had chosen to feign memory loss. She didn't think the 'truth' would be acceptable and was as likely to get her bustled into a straight-jacket as a cell. Rani eyed the newcomer warily. The thin, confident man striding into the room didn't look like a cop, the quality of his neat suit was a dead giveaway he wasn't on the City's payroll. He closed the door carefully behind him then turned to smile up into a corner of the room. Rani looked also, blinking when she saw the discreet camera. Of course there'd be electronic surveillance in the interview rooms, wouldn't do for any untoward activity to go unnoticed.
      "Miss Sahani." the man, still standing, held out his hand to her. "My name is Francis Weller. I'm your solicitor." He indicated one of the chairs opposite her own. "Mind if I sit?"
      Rani shook her head, then swallowed and found her voice.
       "My solicitor? I didn't ask for one."
       Francis Weller's smile was indulgent.
       "An oversight that has been dealt with."
       He leant forward on his elbows, hands clasped loosely before him. The cultured, smooth voice dropped to a level that had Rani leaning forward, straining her ears to catch his words.
       "I know this evening has been quite traumatic for you, Miss Sahani, but you're not to be concerned. The Police won't be asking you any more questions and there'll be no charges brought against you."
       Rani blinked dazedly.
       "Charges?"
       Weller waved a negligent hand.
       "They were looking at destruction of property, endangering life, that sort of thing."
       "But why? How could they?" the woman was caught between bewilderment and ire, "I didn't have anything to do with it!"
      "Listen to me, Rani," the solicitor maintained his calm, even tone. "Shortly you will be allowed to leave. There will be no follow up and the investigation will show this was all an unfortunate accident, not uncommon in old, run-down buildings of this type."
       Rani stared.
       "You're making it sound like a foregone conclusion."
       Weller shrugged, the picture of modesty.
       "I wouldn't put it quite like that…"
       "What about Katinka? Has that been taken care of as well?"
       The solicitor's smile faded at her belligerent tone, became momentarily sympathetic.
       "Forget her, she's out of your reach." He stood up and made for the door. "Go back to your parents, get on with your life, put all of this out of your mind."
      Rani sneered.
      "As easy as that?"
       "In your own interests? Yes." Weller inclined his head. "A pleasure doing business, Miss Sahani."
       "Wait!" Rani swivelled in her chair to face him. "Who sent you?"
       He paused, long enough for the young woman to think he wasn't going to answer.
       "Vadim Bodrov."
       "That old Russian guy? ''tink's friend?"
      "The same." Weller smiled again. "I must go, Rani. Your parents will be here shortly."
       Rani murmured a distracted response, her mind already occupied with the questions of why 'Uncle' Vadim had provided her with the legal representation to smooth this over and how he'd known so quickly it was needed.
      Rani hugged herself tightly and forced back tears. Weller had advised her to forget about 'tink, but how could she? The artist had been part of her life for so long she was twined deep in her heart and Rani couldn't, wouldn't, consider just… cutting her adrift. She loved the woman and somehow, somehow she would find out what happened to her. There wasn't much to go on, but… Rani squared her shoulders: she had a suspicion now that the unassuming art-dealer uncle of Katinka's would be a good place to start.

She rose slowly to consciousness, becoming aware of the chill permeating the left side of her body and that discomfort more than anything helped move her forward to waking. As violet eyes fluttered open and she got a look at her surroundings she connected the chill with the fact she was lying naked on a marble floor. She rolled onto her stomach before levering herself to hands and knees. The floor was patterned, small pieces of coloured marble set together to make pictures. What was the word? Mosaic…
       She spent an unknown amount of time gazing enraptured at the patterns, crawling to follow the twists and loops formed from the painstakingly placed chips of smoothed stone. It was beautiful, just beautiful…
       "Elga."
      She dragged her gaze away from the floor to look up into an angled, ruthlessly handsome face. A word stirred in her foggy memory, a word that had… uncomfortable vibrations but as she couldn't pin anything down she dismissed her unease.
       "Father?"
       "Yes. Good girl." The man smiled and Elga's guts twisted with a sharp surge of lust. Again, this wasn't a comfortable sensation, something felt wrong about her reaction to the compelling blond but again the reason danced out of range as she reached for understanding.
       "Welcome home, my child." He held out his hand. "Come with me."
       After a moment's hesitation Elga put her hand in his and was gently helped to her feet. She shivered, biting back a moan as he pulled her in close. She could feel the heat of him radiating through the layers of silvery grey cloth elegantly draping his body, could feel the stirring hardness at his groin. He lowered his head to nuzzle her neck, nipping slowly along her bare shoulder.
       "I am so very glad you are here, where you belong, with me."
       Elga nodded mutely, unable to speak for the clashing urges to submit to him, now, and yet at the same time to get as far away as possible.
      "Orst." She felt as if she was falling – or being sucked – into glowing amber eyes. "Your name is Orst."
       "Yes." A strong finger traced the line of her cheek and she quivered. Almost against her will Elga turned her head to capture the digit between her lips, twining her tongue around its blunt tip. Orst growled deep in his throat, a sound of frustration, and pulled his hand away. "No, you're not ready yet." He brushed an oddly chaste kiss over her forehead then pushed her away to arm's length while still holding her hand. "Come. I will take you to your new home."

Her father's dwelling appeared to be enormous. Hand in hand they wandered in silence down seeming miles of corridors and through spacious halls. Rich, polished wood floors alternated with more patterned marble and the occasional grand old carpet was soft beneath Elga's bare feet. They saw no one but the young female was subliminally aware of the presence of others. The majority were scuttling, hurrying motes of life, exuding anxiety like hunted rodents. They were weak, insignificant, and Elga knew instinctively they were here to serve. Others were stronger, more determined, but still none of them had the same sort of brutal strength she could sense in the male strolling beside her.
      They came into an airy, high-ceilinged room flooded somehow with a bright illumination though there was no source of light that Elga could see. There'd been no windows either, she realised, anywhere. Elga had a dim idea that the absence of windows should make her feel uncomfortable, but it didn’t. Like so many other little things that'd occurred to her since waking in her father's house, the lack of sky wasn't important and therefore not worthy of worry.
      There was art work on the walls of the room. Paintings, sketches, oils, pastels, watercolours, all carefully framed and displayed, and dotted about the floor-space on plinths were varied statues and figurines ranging from roughly realistic forms to eye-twisting abstracts. They were all familiar.
      Dominating the space - though it was by no means the biggest canvas exhibited - was a portrayal of a silver dragon. No, not a portrayal, a portrait. To Elga's eye the creature's scales shimmered as it flexed the muscular coils of its body…
      "I did this!" Elga blinked.
      Orst's smile was proud. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers.
      "You are very talented, my daughter."
      "I did all of these…" Elga glanced around at the assembled objects. She frowned as more nebulous memories stirred. "I gave these to someone to sell."
      "Vadim Bodrov."
      She turned her puzzled gaze on her father.
      "You bought them all?" There was a vague sense of deceit nagging the girl. Orst lifted an elegant shoulder.
      "You would not accept my help directly so I had to be… indirect. It was I who gave Vadim the idea for you to sell your work as a way of 'making ends meet'."
      Elga shook her head, trying to marshal her thoughts.
      "Uncle Vadim – "
      "Is my creature, yes." Orst said with indifference. "After you orphaned yourself I could not leave you to the care of simply any mortal." He half-smiled. "What sort of father would that make me?"
      Elga had no reply to that. Orst kissed her fingers again.
      "Come. We are almost there…"

The door was like countless others they'd passed except for a barely noticeable ring of silver thread inlaid into the dark wood. Elga watched, fascinated, as Orst placed his palm over the sigil. There was a surge of energy, the silver flashed intensely bright for a moment, then the door slid open. Orst smiled encouragement then ushered her in to the revealed room.
      Elga stared about at the impression of opulent luxury. Silks and furs and rich, rich fabrics in shades of red and gold and antique silver filled the space, draping the walls and covering the floor. The air within was comfortably warm, heavy with pleasing sweet and spicy smells. There was little furniture she could see save for a few low tables surrounded by plump cushions. Off to one side though it looked as if an entire wall of the sizeable room had been given over to an enormous alcove, draped with more silk, strewn with more furs. It was like a chamber within the chamber and Elga had no doubt at all the space served as a bedroom.
      They weren't alone. Clustering around them was a selection of naked exotic females – 'exotic' being the operative word. Fighting a sudden urge for sleep the girl couldn't make much sense of what she was seeing. She got the impression of milling beauty, a rainbow of different skin and hair colours, wings, tails, multiple graceful limbs…
      "This is Elga." Orst rumbled to the assembly. "Make her comfortable."
      A full-breasted female with long, long silver hair and large eyes the colour of night smiled at the bemused newcomer. She swept her arms wide, revealing doubled rows of finger-long pearlescent spikes running down her sides the full length of her body.
      "Welcome to the Sisterhood…"