Chapter 1

Tuesday 3:31 A.M. Under the Loop, Chicago, IL

The News Stand at W. Van Buren St. and Wabash Ave. appeared like any other Chicago street scene. The young man who ran it with his father looked third or fourth generation Irish-American.

But looks, as the saying goes, can be quite deceiving even at the very best of times.

The dividing fabric between all five worlds was, tenuous here at best and the guardians that had gravitated to this site; made the security at Cheyenne Mountain, seem like an open park playground.

Tuesday 3:32 A.M. Alleyway, one block west of Wabash Ave.

Pushing at The Portal, the Demon Scout, Hazkor, could feel it begin to give way. Just a few more seconds and he would be free to rape the world of living men. 'Delicious, ' the thought coursed through what passed for his soul.

But as his essence impinged on the realm men called reality, he felt himself diverted off course.

His titanic struggles were finally reduce to rage fueled quivering and the last thing he felt was his absorption into non-being, his last scream of rage dying stillborn in his throat.

Tuesday 3:33 A.M. One block west of Wabash Ave.

Elnore, Third Lord of House-Elman, broadcast with a sigh of contentment, 'Well done my folk and thank Danu that these stupid Demons never pass Intel back up their chain of command. Back to Grant Park Grove now, it's Miller Time.'

He simply loved the endless creativity of humans. No Clan member that ever lived would have thought to name a celebration, after a beverage. He also sent silent thanks in passing to his Grandsire for having the foresight to mix human blood in the family. Otherwise his branch of Faery would never have been able to work around this much Iron and Steel 'Death-Metal'.

'Three incursions this week alone and it was only Tuesday. Wonder what's stirring them up so badly?' he mused, while turning to head back toward Lake Michigan.

Tuesday 3:34 A.M. News Stand at W. Van Buren St. and Wabash Ave.

Mike Kilian received Elnore's mental report while setting out the early morning edition of the Sun Times.

'Three more off Wabash in less than a week?' he pondered. 'Could these have just been wayward incursions, or were they scouts? I'd best keep a sharp eye out in any case.'

He'd certainly never sought the post of Nexus security coordinator. The responsibility of it had fallen on him like a ton of bricks out of a clear blue sky. Some days; it was like Anaconda wrestling and some days were better, but he would do the job to his last breath if need be.

'Strange how powerful a motivator and stabilizing factor, love can be, ' he thought.

Tuesday 3:34 A.M. Hell, Upper level 1.5

Alzor was not just upset. His rage and fury - like a miasma of pain - lay waiting to strike any target of opportunity and could be felt throughout the entire region. Lesser Demons scurried to avoid his path and even those who almost matched his power level were extremely careful in his presence.

'That miserable excuse of a slime mold Hazkor, has failed, ME! If only he had survived his failure. I could have made his screaming last for a minor eternity. But enough of these pleasant daydreams there was work to accomplish.'

'Summon the Council, ' the thought flashed through his domain and in the space of a human heartbeat they stood before him. His gaze swept over the twelve, and his voice followed seconds later, "We need a new plan, get on it," he hissed at them. The chamber instantly emptied like a soap bubble bursting and he returned to his own thoughts of mayhem.

'There has to be a way into the Realm of Men and I will find it, ' he vowed, as grinding fangs played their counterpoint to his total frustration.

Tuesday 3:35 A. M. News Stand at W. Van Buren St. and Wabash Ave.

Something about today's skirmish seemed to trigger long buried memories in Mike's mind. A smile slowly slid across his face as he remembered his first meeting with the Elven Clan.

Michael Shaun Kilian had grown up in and around the Grant Park area of Chicago, reveling in the park's secret trails and hiding places. Some of his earliest and happiest memories were mingled within the environs located there.

One of his favorites was Buckingham Fountain. He could literally sit for hours on end, watching the play of colored lights in the leaping waters.

Perhaps it was this affinity for water that led to his initial contact with the Elven Clan. Then again, perhaps it was just his destiny. The vivid clarity of that first meeting still reached to the depths of his soul.