Ice clinking against crystal sounded from the kitchen, ringing through the small apartment like a tiny bell.  Raizel carefully dropped the last few cubes into the second glass, and then recapped the bottle of arak, returning it to its place in the cabinet.

For as little time as she spent here, the small apartment in Tel Aviv still felt remarkably like home.  She was never quite sure if it had grown to suit her, or if she had simply grown up in it, but the flat had been her base in between adventures since a year or two after she had graduated from Beit Gaddol.  Even several years later, it had a comfortable, homey feel to it.  During the day, it was light and airy; once the sun set, as it had several hours before, the living room felt much more relaxing and cozy, the warm glow from the electric lamp casting a soft light across the small interior, the muffled laughter and chatter from the Florentine bars drifting in from outside.

All in all, it had been a good day.  Goblins and Gringotts and curses and doomed visions felt a world away when she was in Israel, and Raizel felt far happier and far more relaxed than she had in ages. Even a quiet Shabbat here was better than an average day in England.  When the sun had finally set, the day had given way to the ten year reunion of their graduation from Beit Gaddol. 

Raizel had been plotting to coerce Adon into attending the reunion with her for ages, if only to get a rise out of their former classmates.  The executed plan had gone off without a hitch.  She had been extremely pleased to see the looks of trepidation that they had gotten in response to their joint arrival, even more so than she had been to receive compliments on her carefully selected dress and recently gifted white shoes.  Even the fight that they had staged near the punch bowl had gotten the reaction that they were looking for, although Raizel had been left feeling slightly wary that Adon's side of the script had not been meant in mere jest.  But in the end, she had enjoyed herself.  The feeling was rare enough these days that she intended to savor it for as long as she could.

The Cursebreaker gave a quiet laugh as she returned to the couch, passing Adon one of the two crystal glasses filled with arak.  It wasn't often that she had company over, but she hadn't let it faze her tonight.  If Adon wanted to comment on the sunflower-covered sofa, the photographs of brightly colored flowers artistically placed on the walls, or the well-worn romance novels that were oddly interspersed with the giant tomes on forgotten languages and ancient spells that lined her bookshelves, then he could do it outside of her hearing.

"Where did you even get the idea that I was interested in Elias Scholtz?" she asked bemusedly as she settled herself to sit next to him.  She arranged the skirt of her dress over her knees, balancing her glass in one hand.  "He asked me to one dance, Adon.  One.  Well, two.  But I told him no both times," she added, smiling at him.  "It was just like how Adi Weitzman was always interested in you.  But I never complained about that," she pointed out nicely, raising her glass in a salute.  "L'chaim."

She had never complained, but at seventeen, she had certainly kept an eye on it.  Adon had been widely accepted as the most handsome, most charming, and most popular boy in school.  Even when she'd been furious with him, Raizel had not cared to let that get away from her.  Adi Weitzman had been part of the competition, though she had done her best to keep the other girl from becoming any sort of threat.  She might not have appreciated Adon back then, but she had certainly been protective of him.

"Adi certainly seemed to think that you are just as good looking now as you were in school, though."  Raizel wrapped her hands around her glass, fingers interlocking with each other except for the one noticeable interruption.  "If it hadn't been for her husband, I think she would have been happy to hear more about all that you've accomplished with your life."  She laughed quietly, giving the other mage a small, nearly fond smile.  "Auror.  Segen mishne," she teased lightly.  "So respectable.  You make the rest of us look like we've barely done anything since Gaddol."

Adon gave a groan at the mention of Scholz as he accepted the offered glass of arak.  It had been a very pleasant evening--pleasant enough--without bringing that up.  "Oh, I wonder," he muttered in a low tone, giving her a devious, knowing glance.  "You only liked to bring it up every time we had a rough patch to get me going..."  He shook his head and gave a sudden, bright peal of laughter.  "It's good we did not have the heart to disappoint them and let them know we are much more civil, now..." Who was he, Adon Eleor, to dash such high expectations for barbarous displays of tempestuousness?  He gave a wolfish grin.  "The looks on their faces--Ha!  They were terrified."
 
He gave a belated "L'chaim," before taking a sip of the smooth drink.  He swallowed and cleared his throat, considering something as he eyed the play of light through the ice.
 
"Respectable," he repeated, trying the word out with a crooked smile.  "I admit: that is not something I hear about myself very often."  He grew quiet, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling.  He inhaled deeply, exhaling it through his nose as he considered.
 
Should his life be considerably shorter than his colleagues', it was still reassuring, at least that others would feel he'd accomplished something in that time. Sometimes, the all-too-easy comparison to Eleor One cast any of Adon's accomplishments in a paltry light.  Adon had had a leadership position in the military.  But he'd left.  And his older brother was a head of an entire Ministry office.  Adon, sure, was attractive and had had a steady stream of interested girls.  Dreogan had found a catch that his mother was enamored with, and they had already started their own little family, not even two years later.  Adon didn't envy his brother his life; he was proud of Dree.  But it did, especially recently, make Adon wonder how he might be remembered, or what he would leave behind.  Still. Adon felt rather certain he'd at some point or another saved a handful of lives--however much that had worn his own thin, or complicated it. And that was something.

He gave a mere shrug at the mention of Adi knowing that, though they may be more civil now, some things never changed, and this was no doubt some sort of conflict that Adon was fated to fail if he engaged in it.  Adi was as beautiful as she'd been back in school.  Dark hair and a dusky complexion.  And a good body, even post-baby.  He gave a pointed, second shrug--to show how much he was not thinking about how much she'd laughed at his jokes.
 
"Adi has a family--a... clearly overprotective husband," his lips twisted in amused recollection, "and a daughter," Adon informed, pointing out her own accomplishments. "Very respectable. And you--" he added quickly, sensing any overemphasis on Adi would create a maelstrom that not even the purchase of shoes could get him out of, "you have the exotic career.  Though," he said, casting a hesitant, sidelong glance in her direction, "I noted 'the rest of us' seemed much more interested in hearing about it than you seemed in talking about it..."
 
Adon didn't mean to--he knew that Raizel did not like it when he looked worried... like he wante to talk--but the sight of her, blissful on her straight-from-the-sun sofa threw in stark contrast the woman he'd been getting to know again in England.  Adon was prone to falling into a pessimistic comparison with others--but there were no doubt ways in which Raizel could do the same.  She'd also served in the IDF--the only other in their graduating class--and recently had spent more time with the Aurors... She'd spent three times long enough in getting ready to make sure she was still the most attractive girl at Gaddol...
 
But Adon didn't know if this was at all what this was about.  The only thing he could compare Raizel against right now was England-Raizel and... sofa-Raizel, bringing him to the realization that Israel--and that loud decorative couch--suited her.  "Raizel," he began in a concerned voice, looking anxiously at her.  He paused, shifting.  There was no way this was going to carry on without her getting defensive.  Sighing, he looked at the opposite wall and took a moment to sip from his glass.

It had been a pleasant, enjoyable, relaxing sort of evening, and Raizel would have been content to leave it at that.  They could spend the rest of their night fondly recounting old fights and almost-forgotten memories, until the hour was too late or the arak started to run too thick.  But of course Adon Eleor could not simply leave a pleasant moment be -- she heard the change in his voice, saw the tentative, uncertain look on his face, and she knew there would be no ending to tonight but whatever he had suddenly decided he wanted to talk about.

There were times when Adon was as stubborn as a hippogriff, as unswayable as a camel set in its ways.  Raizel tensed at the words, her body language stiffening as if she could avoid this entire conversation through sheer force of will.  But she knew.  The long pause.  Something was coming.  And then he said her name, and Raizel glanced at him miserably, pressing her mouth tightly shut as she tried to swallow past the knot that was suddenly growing in her throat.

She gave him an unhappy look, just to make certain that he knew that she didn't like the direction that this was going, and then looked away again.  She pressed her fingers tightly against the cool glass, feeling the droplets of condensation that were beading on the outside.  To Adon, this shouldn't even be a discussion.  He did what he had to do -- what he wanted to do -- and the consequences were dealt with in the aftermath.  But she wasn't Adon.  She wasn't the younger scion of a wealthy mage family who didn't need to worry about things like food or money or paying rent.  He only worried about how things might affect his friends and family -- and she did too, which was what made her present situation feel so overwhelmingly impossible.
 
"There is plenty that you do not like to talk about either," she snapped.  But as soon as the words were out, she regretted them.  Instantly, her gaze shifted over to meet his again, and Raizel swallowed hard, shaking her head in obvious frustration.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.  "I didn't mean that." 

It was too much -- all of this.  That was the awful, frightening truth of it.  She wasn't sure which ending terrified her more: the one where something finally went wrong and all of this play-acting at putting down roots permanently came to its sudden, inevitable conclusion, or the one where it didn't matter because Adon was dead and she didn't need to worry about coming up with excuses to keep her in London.  The thought of her friend dying like he had in his brother's vision left her with a horrible, sick feeling, but the idea of walking away from this now made her feel even worse.  If that was the price of keeping Adon alive, she would choose eventual betrayal any day.  And if suffering through the daily, miserable grind of Gringotts was the price she had to pay to stay in London, then she was determined to do that too.

But Adon was not going to let her make her own decision, and now he was forcing the issue.  Raizel rolled her shoulders in a defeated shrug, giving him another unhappy look as she shifted defensively to face him. 

"I think I am going to quit Gringotts."  The words came out in a sudden rush.  Saying them aloud made them feel too real; saying them to Adon meant she was now committed.  Raizel shrugged again, shooting him a resigned, miserable look.  He had gotten what he wanted; she hoped he was happy.

"But I am trying to figure the rest of it out." Her eyes flicked towards him briefly, and then away again.  She did not want to see him when she said this.   "I want to stay in London," she confessed quietly.   Her gaze was fixed solely on her hands as she kept them wrapped around the glass of arak.  "To help.  At least until I know that you and your brother are -- all right.  So it isn't as simple as just leaving."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"It would be fair if you did," Adon stated with a glum shrug.  He hesitated.  "I'm sorry to bring it up. I just don't like seeing you unhappy," he said.  "I want to do something, and... I don't know what. It just makes me feel," he made an expansive gesture with his hands before puffing his cheeks and deflating in defeat.  Helpless.

He rested his foot up on the sofa, resting his chin contemplatively on his knee as she spoke.  Leaving Gringotts.  Adon wanted to question her--really question her if that was what she was so unhappy about.  Sometimes he wasn't so sure.  It could have been any number of more important things.  Benny's investigation.  Being separated by family by more than just geography.  A lack of friends and familiar company in England--Adon doubted he was much for company most of the time...

But she wouldn't talk about that.  But she was talking about leaving Gringotts--which nearly brought a smile to his face, had his emotions not been tempered by the knowledge that she was still unhappy.  "If you feel like that's the right thing..." he began haltingly.  The goblins were no good. That went without saying.  It was a fundamental truth--and Raizel had known it for some time; maybe even longer than he had.  "...to stay in London, I mean," he added quietly.  "'Figuring the rest out'..." Adon echoed quietly.  "You mean a job." He knew that she wanted to be independent. Raizel was clear enough in that, but if she really wanted to stay, Adon would find a way.  "There are ways we can work that out.  There's the contract work with the Aurors--I'm sure they could use some more.  The Aurors in Jerusalem have Thea on a full-time, and she has similar expertise in artifaccts..." he hesitated.  He didn't know, exactly, how much she knew about Thea.  And then there was the fact that they did not, in so many ways, have similar expertise... or backgrounds.  That could be problematic towards full-time employment.  Cart before the horse.

"And, I mean, even the Krav Maga gym in London has offered me a job at least three times. I could suggest you--you are already teaching self-defense..." He shrugged.  But if these weren't enough to keep her there... if she decided that the flowers and friends and sunshine in Israel were more important...

"Well, it is clear we need to consider all this carefully," he stated.  "I mean, we have not even analyzed which country has the better shoes."

This was not the way that she had expected this conversation to go.  Adon had backed her into a corner -- knowing him, he would push and press until he got the answer he wanted.  This sudden change of tactics -- backing down, apologizing -- were not what she would have expected of his normal strategy. 

Raizel shot him a quick, suspicious look, but her expression grew slowly less guarded as he spoke.  This talk of finding a job -- she had expected much more resistance or doubt at the thought of her staying in London, but he wasn't arguing with that.  Instead, he was offering suggestions, real and valid suggestions, and while she filed away the first name reference to a Thea as something to investigate at a later time, he was even joking about it.  Raizel gave a sudden surprised laugh, smiling as she glanced back at Auror.

"Does that mean you want to go shoe shopping in Mamilla tomorrow?" she asked nicely, favoring him with a warm smile.  She laughed again, tossing her hair back over her shoulder as she settled on the sofa, this time turning more openly to face him.  "That is not the only criteria," she said chidingly, still smiling at him.  "And we live in the modern age, Adon.  You don't have to live somewhere to buy shoes there.  There is always the owl post."

Her mood felt considerably lighter as she regarded him again.  This was the surprising side of Adon that she liked much better -- when he made her laugh; when he unexpectedly decided to act like he cared; when suddenly it seemed, if only for a moment, that she might not be tackling a problem all alone.  Raizel took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she gathered her thoughts.

"Part of it is the job.  I have a little saved," she admitted.  "But it is not enough to pay rent in two cities.  If it's only for a month or two..."  She shrugged.  There was no way to tell how long the current stalemate might go on.  "Maybe consulting," she agreed, giving him a slight smile. "Or teaching.  If it pays, that would help."

It felt much more manageable, much less insurmountable, to think of this as only a temporary thing.  She could buy time, find something, and once this entire nightmare was over, she could reassess.  Raizel set her glass of arak down and slipped her feet out of her shoes, drawing her knees up onto the sofa. 

"You're a very good friend, you know," she said, smiling faintly as she wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them tightly.  "You've already helped a lot, Donnie.  Don't feel like you need to do more."  But that was only part of it.  She swallowed hard, letting her gaze drop.  They never talked about it, not directly; that was the unspoken rule whenever they went out.  It was more for Adon's benefit than for her own, though Raizel didn't particularly want to think about the prophecy either.  There was still a raw, painful, empty ache in her chest whenever she thought of Benny, as if nothing she could have done would have ever have helped, but she had still failed him anyhow.  She didn't want to be left feeling that way when she thought of Adon, too.

She gave a helpless, uncomfortable shrug, glancing tentatively back at him, as if she weren't sure whether or not he'd snap at her in response.  "I just want to make sure that I am around to help you, too, if you need it," she added quietly.  "I don't want you to die."

"Alright, alrightl, alright," Adon grumbled.  "I misspoke.  You have not analyzed it.  I do not need to know," he said, waving a tired hand and resting his head along the back of the couch... Which left his throat vulnerable if she felt like laying a retaliatory strike.  He rolled his head to the side, glancing at her suspiciously.  She seemed pleased enough.
 
Resuming his position, he spoke, his voice hitting the ceiling. "Dree didn't want to pay for rent in two cities--when he was coming here so often.  He would crash at my place... I only charged him a little," he said, giving a sly smile.  "The Ministry covered it, though, so I did not really feel bad." Off-point.  "You could see--if it looks like you will be in England for longer--" he still did not want to take that for granted, "if you could sublet. You have a nice place." Though he didn't know of anyone in the market for a place.  Yon needed a new place, but Adon doubted very much if he'd put himself out the least bit financially, if he was perfectly happy to sleep on sofas for the rest of his life.
 
It was fortunate, really, that they hadn't stayed with Yon.  Sure, it was closer and more convenient, but Adon had no idea where they'd keep two more bodies.  At least this way, Adon got an entire sunny-flowered couch to himself tonight.
 
Adon was just testing the softness of the sofa with the back of his neck pressed deeply into it before Raizel continued .  He gave an awkward sort of smile at the compliment. Adon certainly had tried to be a good friend, but he'd learned himself he was not always successful in it.  His help thus far had been little more than offers--though he supposed, in ways, that was what Raizel needed to have the courage to face certain realities.  Anyone who had had a chance to test Adon's resolve in his word had found, rather quickly, a stubborn consistency. And he supposed, really, that his offer--of just being there--were taken as good as an Unbreakable.
 
Simply not being alone--that was such an important thing, which Adon could not ever underestimate.  Don't feel like you need to do anything more, she insisted.  He gave a small smile, shaking his head.  "No. I know I don't need to. But I want to," he said quietly before he felt a tightness in his throat that made it hard to swallow.  Straightening, he looked away.  There was little enough he could say on the topic--particularly in the face of such a small, hard, damning word: die.
 
"Yeh," he gave a pained laugh. 'Well..." there was a weak feeling, like ice in his blood, leaving him drained and exhausted.  "I don't really want me to, either."  He dug the base of his palms into his eyes, crushing out the stinging sensation.  He half-hissed, half-uttered curse trailed off as he once more lifted his head.  "It will," he began, ducking his head slightly so she wouldn't see the red eyes, "...work itself out."  This sounded more like defeat than reassurance, but he forced a smile anyhow.  "You will see."  Fate always did.

Something caught in Raizel's throat, and she quickly folded her arms against her chest, shifting her gaze away.  She knew Adon -- knew there were some things that he didn't want anyone else to see.  Seeing him so unhappy made her feel so helpless, and having it go on for so long made it a thousand times worse.  It had been six months since their paths had crossed again, and in all that time, she had never seen the Auror without this specter hanging over him.  Adon had taken the weight of his future unto himself, and even though they never talked about it, somehow the ghost of the prophecy never really went away.

The Cursebreaker gave a quiet sigh, letting her feet slip back to the ground.  Casting a wary look at the Auror, she bent down to pick up her drink and then shifted closer, putting her right hand on his arm as she cradled the glass with her left. 

"Well, it will help if it all works out," she said quietly, glancing at him long enough to give him a slight, strained smile. 

That was one of the few ways to continue this conversation at all.  If the subject turned to how this would affect his friends, sometimes Adon would get angry enough to talk.  It was a trait she hadn't appreciated enough back in school -- that the other mage was so fiercely loyal and meant it when he said that he wanted to help.

But she wanted to help too, and she couldn't.  Not in this current state of indecision.  She knew that Dreogan had been trying for the past few months, testing things to change the dream, but he hadn't said much about his progress so far.  It was an exasperating, frustrating sense of endless purgatory, and the longer it went on, the more melancholy and unpredictable and unhappy her friend became.

"I know that you don't like to talk about it," she said tentatively, casting him a nervous look.  This was usually when the Auror exploded, or threw chairs, or started shouting loud enough that all she could do was shout back.  That was the only time when she felt like she might want to go back to hating him.  "But I just --"

She gave a heavy sigh, looking up at the ceiling in visible frustration as she rubbed angrily at her eyes.  "It is stupid," she informed Adon unhappily, a tightness in her voice.  "It scares me, and I hate it, and I don't know what to do.  I don't know how to help, and I want to.  Because it's always there, and you don't deserve this, Adon.  You should be happy," she added vehemently, as if daring anyone in the room to disagree.  She set her jaw stubbornly, giving him a fierce, protective look.  "How do you think we would fix it, if the person in the vision was someone else?  Like your brother, or Jonas?  Or me?"

Glancing down at the hand on his arm, Adon gave a flicker of a smile to Raizel, which vanished with surprising speed--even for one named Houdini.
 
There was really, very little point in discussing any of this.  It was stupid, and the fact that it was simply how it was made it much, much worse.  There was a deep pang, a sort of knawing feeling in his stomach that curled his lips as he thought about it--about what Raizel had been going through, about the thought of her dying bloodless in the Dream, the thought of anyone in that position that he cared about.  And Raizel showing she cared--that she worried and that she... somehow that made the thought of this worse.  He didn't want that for her. He didn't want her to be unhappy. Moloch, wasn't that why they'd started this conversation in the first place? How did they get to this?!

"Dree is in the vision," he pointed out unhappily.  "And I would like to do everything I can to keep him out of it.  To keep you and Jonas out of it."  His jaw tightened stubbornly.  That was not the question.  He gave an irascible sigh.  "There is no... there is no one easy way to fix it," he said with a dramatic sigh.  "There is only..." He looked down, throat tightening as he considered the real question.

What had he been doing? To help Dree? Or his friends through this? As afraid as he was for his brother--for himself, he had done nothing, but that was not the path that his friends were taking.  He knew they were meeting.  He was not blind. He'd just decided to look the other way because dealing with it was...

Facing the disappointment when it didn't work was simply too painful.  But they wanted to try.  And Adon'd been letting them.  He hadn't asked much from them, and certainly hadn't contributed, but whatever they were up to...

"Why..." he asked with a quiet suspicion, evaluating her carefully.  If they were doing this for him... if that was what it took to make even 1 person feel better about this, regardless of how he felt, regardless of his skepticism... it was at least worth hearing what they were doing.  "What have you been doing to try to fix it?"

The hurt showed through the Cursebreaker's expression for only an instant.  She quickly drew back, turning her face away from Adon as she rose to her feet, clutching her glass tightly in hand.

"I've been trying to find out what I can about Seers.  How visions work," she said in a tight voice, not looking at him as she set the glass down on the coffee table in front of the sofa.  "Your brother's dream has been changing.  He stopped taking the Dreamless Sleep potion to see if it would be any different now, and I know that you don't die in all of the new visions.  You weren't even in the last one that he told me about.  But I think there are ones that are not so good, too."  The line of her jaw tightened unhappily as she headed for the armchair where she'd stacked the extra sheets earlier that evening.  "He said that it's better not to know too many details because it might change things for the worse."

That was the code that Dreogan used when he didn't want to try and talk about things.  Raizel had let it go -- she was willing to give her friend's brother his discretion, and anything she dreamed up would be far, far worse than whatever Dreogan could say anyhow.  What was important was that it was changing.  The future wasn't set in stone. 

Raizel gave a nonchalant, businesslike shrug, still not looking at him as she gathered up the sheets in one arm.  "And I know someone who found Topuluk before for me, after Benny died."  She grabbed for the corner of the pillow with her free hand, swinging it onto her load, and then started back for the sofa.  "Dreogan knew him too, so I got them to talk.  He is going to try and find Gözde again for us."

The rest of it didn't need to be said out loud -- what would happen if they tracked down the Turkish mage, how far she was already intending on going.  Adon would just get angry anyway.  Raizel swiped at her eyes, giving a sniff, and then jerked her head sharply to motion him off the sofa.  For someone who insisted so intently that he wanted to do more to help, all he ever seemed to care about doing was keeping everyone else as far away as he could.

Raizel gave him a hard, hurt look, the line of her chin set.  "I would do anything, too, you know," she said tightly.  "I know there's no easy way to fix it, Adon.  But a lot of the time, it seems like you've already given up, and that makes it even harder."  She shrugged carelessly as she tossed the folded sheets and pillow down onto the coffee table, one after the other.  "If we all tried, maybe we could fix it.  And even if we can't," she added in a hard, stubborn voice that almost masked the breaking note underneath, "trying would still be better than knowing that someone else that I cared about died and I didn't bother to do anything to stop it."

Adon gave out a sharp, stuttering breath, sounding something like an inverted gasp.  The dreams changed. He blinked more rapidly, looking down as he tried to process what this could mean for him, and the life he had already determined was drawing to a close.
 
No sooner had Adon received more hope than he had for months, for long, dark gruelling months, than Raizel barrelled through.  He was not, definietly, going to die in that manner, but there were worse possibilities.
 
He held up his hand, begging for a moment to register, to try, before they launched into a further discussion of the particulars, to feel some relief and hope. It was fleeting, dim, and complicated, like a sputtering flame, but it was there.  And he was troubled.  He gave a slight sigh as he dropped his hand.  Raizel was already anticipating his next question--why he was not informed--and he gave a quiet, swallowed groan.
 
"I wish he would trust me--trust everyone--with knowing..."  But his brother was afraid.  Mostly, afraid of optimism and disappointment.  For someone who had a habit of determinedly--perhaps even a little naively--seeing the best in people, it was a frustrating contradiction.  Silently, Adon rose to his feet to join Raizel at the armchair.  His hands reached for the topsheet, but Raizel brusquely dropped the pile of linens onto the nearby coffeetable top.  Pursing his lips into a frown, he stooped over their new location to take one end of the spare top sheet, and tug it open. 
 
Adon couldn't help but feel, a little, that Dreogan was keeping this from him because he didn't trust Adon to do the right thing with what he knew. He couldn't--he wouldn't--exactly blame Dreogan.  If he was routinely seeing worse dreams, it was likely that his older brother was undergoing some sort of self-flagellation in which he determinedly put on burdens to protect others...
 
But they could be doing something with that knowledge right now.  It seemed Raizel already was, and Adon felt stupid, very very stupid for not having done anything about this.  For not even noticing, or caring, what they were planning.
 
"But that was before," he said abruptly as he shoved the corners of fabric into the cracks behind the couch, ignoring the metallic touch of several dropped shekels--or perhaps knuts as his fingers jabbed deeper.  "I had no idea--I didn't believe, and I really didn't know any of it could change..."  He straightened, letting the sheet drop into place before reaching for the other and carelessly throwing it on top, throwing his hands up as the fitted sheet bunched awkwardly over the makeshift bed.  "Moloch," he muttered between his teeth with a bitter laugh.
 
He didn't even know if that was a relief.  There were worse fates than death, and there were worse deaths than his own.  But he couldn't say any of that--he couldn't, wouldn't tell her that she was risking far too much for far too little--because, he thought in a realization that stung his eyes, that this wasn't too little.   It might not have been even as much about him as it was about Benny, but it was all Raizel could do now.
 
"Ok. Ok, ok, ok," he said abruptly, waving his hand in concession.  "I will try it.  Whatever you and Dreogan have planned.  I'm," he turned to look at her, giving a forced--though not quite pained--smile.  "I would be happy to."  A brief smile flickered across his face and he jerked his chin up.  "This plan--fixing it--involves giving them hell, yeh?"
 
That was a plan he could get behind.

At last Adon was doing something, even if it was only taking the sheets to make his own bed.  But that was the metaphorical problem in all of this -- Raizel gave an unhappy snort, very clearly showing her displeasure by turning away from him as he continued to talk.  The issue didn't seem to be that Dreogan trusted or didn't trust them with knowing.  It was that Adon was allowing his brother -- allowing his enemies -- to frame his destiny without even putting up a fight.  Goats and sheep were docile enough that they permitted themselves to be led quietly to their deaths; mages weren't supposed to be, let alone a Gibbor graduate whom she'd spent most of her adolescence bickering endlessly with.

She didn't want him giving in to Dreogan.  She didn't even want him giving in to her, not if that was the consequence of all of this.  She wanted him angry, just as angry as she was -- battling, fighting, refusing to let this extinguish him.  But he wasn't.  Somewhere along the way, her friend had given up his fire. 

But maybe -- maybe -- there was an ember still burning.  Adon's words might have been forced or halting when he'd begun speaking, but they had quickly and suddenly changed into what she had been wanting to hear.  Raizel's gaze shot back to meet her friend's, her expression at first suspicious, then cautious, and then wary.  It was only at his second, briefer, and far more genuine smile that she let the tension begin to ease in her shoulders.  Giving them hell -- yes.  She allowed a smile at that, her teeth flashing.  This was the friend that she remembered.

"We have always been good at that, I think," Raizel replied, flashing him a pointed, fierce smirk.  Extending a hand to his elbow, she tugged him forward.  It was not everything, what he had said, but here in this moment, it was enough.  Adon was willing to fight instead of going along quietly to his own slaughter.  Whatever the reason for it, she was happy to take the change of heart.

Snorting quietly, she shifted to face him directly.  "Thank you," she said earnestly, giving him a warm, grateful smile.  "Hearing that -- it helps, Donnie.  I don't know about giving them hell," she added with a smirk, squeezing his arm.  "But putting them there -- I would like that very much, I th--"

A sudden, intense buzzing cut in suddenly from Adon's pocket.  Raizel jerked back in surprise, starting at the sound, and then shot the other mage an intensely annoyed look.  Huffing loudly, she turned away, jerking her head at him impatiently.  Adon sighed and pulled out his phone, holding up a finger for her to wait while he pressed the button to turn on the screen.

"What, now you miss me?" Adon gave an amusedly exasperated sigh before his face dropped, and Raizel's eyes immediately shot over to regard his expression. "Slo--sloooow, Yon. Where are they?"

There was a momentary pause, one that stretched on for far too long. Raizel bit her lower lip, her eyes locked on Adon's, though he wasn't looking at her.  "How many?" Another pause. Her heart skipped another beat.  [/i]"Okay,"[/i] Adon said at last. "Stay inside. Stay away from the windows--do not look out again. You know Psalm 18?"

The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer -- the words came back unbidden to her mind, the recitation an almost unconscious response to the invocation.  At Beit Gaddol, that particular psalm, the basis of so much defensive magic, was drilled into each and every mage student.  Raizel stared back at Adon, her nostrils flaring, the obvious alarm growing on her features as she watched her friend grit his teeth.

"Well, get it out and read it then!" Adon was barking. "Keep on reading it until I arrive, okay? And salt. Kosher salt across the doo--nevermind. Don't bother with the door," he said sharply, impatiently. "We'll be there anyhow." Yon's voice was loud enough that it carried through the speaker. "But when?" "Now," Adon replied.

The last word was spoken to Raizel.

She had known what was coming.  Raizel had already started for her bedroom when he gave the command.  The blond mage's eyes flickered to meet her friend's gaze for the briefest of moments, and then she swallowed hard, giving him a fierce, determined nod.  There would be no wavering tonight. 

"One minute -- I'll change," she said curtly, her words clipped.  She brushed past him, disappearing into her room as she called back over her shoulder. "You know where we're going, Donnie?"

Adon turned sharply on his heel, arm stretching out to wrap his fingers around her wrist.  "There is no time.  Six men in the courtyard outside Yon's flat. Apparated. We go now,"  He stated in a clipped, precise tone that betrayed he was used to giving instructions.
 
He only gave her a sidelong glance--an implied command to stay--before lumbering over to the corner of the room that contained his black nylon duffle.  Ripping open the zipper, he dug through its contents before pulling out a pistol and its magazine.  A brief inspection and a metalic click, and the Jericho 941 was loaded.  Not time for the holster, either.  Adon rose to his feet, tucking the gun into his waistband. He cleared his throat as he curved around the sofa, to Raizel's side. Adon was oblivious to the brightness of the room, the cheeriness of the decor, the contrast of his mood.  All business. All, now.  "I've not been there-- but he gave me the address." When they had both thought that they would be staying the night there.  Adon wondered if that was why this was happening.  But then Yon had canceled.  He wished he hadn't.   "We will Apparate a block away. Ok," he said in a low, preparatory whisper as he bared his wand arm, gripping the olive wood, "wand at the ready."
 
Adon waited for the light touch on his arm before making the jump--several cities away--though Adon had done more, even with a few drinks in him.  When the swirl of dark and light solidified, they were within sight of a bright illuminated dome of the Hurva Synagogue. Adon could still hear the echoes from their Apparation.  Somewhere, a dog barked.
 
"Goleya!" Adon stiffened at the instantaneous spell-casting and looked across to his companion.  It was a good precaution, and Adon could see at once that nothing seemed immediately out of place. in this narrow, limestone corridor they had landed in.  Giving a silent nod, Adon kept his eyes sharply traced on the direction they were heading.  Adon tapped his cheek twice, then to the area behind them as he began to move down one of the narrow by-ways of the Jewish Quarter.
 
Quieting his breathing, Adon cast nothing--wanting to be fully available for an offensive assault the moment he saw one of those bastards.  It was moments like this that Adon missed the security and coverage of one of Dree's wards.
 
Sighing through his nose, he read a street name from a tile in the limestone walls of the buildings and turned right, counting one, two, three doors, and pausing at a gated entrance to a large courtyard from which several homes and apartments extended--one of them, he hoped, still contained Yon.  Pressing himself against a wall, he glanced back at Raizel and gave a tight, encouraging smile.  They were rather good at giving hell together.

Once they crossed the gates of Hell, everything broke loose.  The limestone around them flashed with refracted light from a spell and, gritting his teeth, Adon threw open the wrought-iron gate with his wand, summoning what seemed, for all intents and purposes, a great pillar of fire in the midst of the courtyard. 

Illuminated by the flames, the courtyard was bathed in a bright, bronze light.  Adon could see only four figures--one which moved his arm quickly--and Adon flicked the flames quickly in his direction; Adon heard a scream and moved his gaze to the others.  Arm still sustained to support the flames.  "There are two more!" he called back to Raizel to warn her.  Two more either hiding, or already with Yon.

The bold crack of apparition was both herald and portend to the night's transformation.  Raizel couldn't hold back a shiver as the bright, cheery warmth of her apartment instantly gave way to the wintery chill that reflected off of Jerusalem's familiar white stone.   Here at night, the Old City's heart may as well have been abandoned.  Save for a lone dog barking somewhere in the distance, there was not a single sign of life.

The cold November night crystallized into reality around them.  Raizel stepped away from Adon, her wand already raised, alert and wary.  For all of its immediacy and usefulness, apparition was not a subtle spell.  If there were enemies here, even that simple act would have given their presence away.

Which meant they needed to be ready for a less-than-cordial welcome.  "Goleya," Raizel murmured, and the world shifted subtly around her.  Adon's blazing, on-guard presence was typically blinding, but beyond her friend and the dimming footprint from their apparition, there were only brief flickers of faded magic.  The Jewish Quarter, new as it was, did not have the woven fabric that penetrated deep into the stones of the other neighborhoods of the walled city.  If a spell had been recently cast here, it would stand out.

She looked back to Adon again, and caught his eye as he nodded.  Keep an eye behind -- yes.  He wanted her to watch their backs, while he kept his attention forward.  Raizel gave a brisk, curt nod, keeping close as she fell into step behind him.  It had been years since they had worked in cooperation with each other -- and no late night excursion at Beit Gaddol, no adventure within the bounds of the dueling club had ever shared the same deadly stakes as this.  Here, now, Adon was clearly in his element, and for the first time since her Knockturn Alley encounter with Tiresias Katsaros, she felt as if she might be, too.

She stayed quiet and alert to the streets behind them -- returned Adon's smile with a tight smile of her own -- as they drew closer to what was presumably Yon's address.  Adon threw open the gate, and it was as if the heavens had opened upon them.  A spell was fired; she ducked out of the way, and then a flaming pillar of biblical proportions suddenly sprung to life before them.  Raizel  nearly cried out, shielding her eyes as she instinctively turned away from the blindingly bright magic.  A scream sounded somewhere from the courtyard; and then Adon, calling out: "There are two more!"

She saw the light of the incoming spell an instant before it was cast.  Raising her wand, she pointed it at a nearby limestone brick and shattered it; with a jerk of her wrist, she summoned the dust from the pulverized brick, forming it into the shape of a five-fingered hand in the air before her.  A burst of orange energy hit it, and the makeshift hamsa exploded, sending crystalized glass shards flying.

Two more.  She'd located one, clearly, and Raizel had no intent of allowing her opponent to launch a second attack.  A furious feeling was growing in her chest.  Someone had done this -- had threatened Adon's friend, had tried to set up an ambush for Adon himself, and Raizel could imagine what the intended consequences for her friend were supposed to be.  Baring her teeth, she jabbed her wand in the direction of her attacker, and then stabbed it downward.

"Bitqu!" she shouted, and the ground under the other mage gave way with a rumble.  He let out a scream as the limestone collapsed beneath him, sending him tumbling into the sudden abyss.  Teeth bared in a nasty smile, Raizel jerked her wand upwards again and added a shouted "Eseru!"  With a groan, the limestone resumed its original position, cutting off her opponent's scream with a sudden, foreboding silence.

One down.  Raizel ended the spell with a gesture, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her bare arm, and regarded the remains of her handiwork. There was not a trace to be seen of the other mage.  Her heart was pounding with adrenaline, and it felt like fire to rival Adon's flaming pillar was coursing through her veins.  This was what it felt like to be truly alive, and after so many months of waiting helplessly, there was nothing more that she wanted to do than let loose.  The Group wanted to ambush her friend?  Let them try.

"One more!" she called to Adon as she turned back towards him.  She bared her teeth triumphantly in his direction, wand still raised in anticipation of the next attack.  This might not technically qualify as a plan, but it certainly involved giving the other side hell.

The thing with a grand entry was-- it tended to garner attention.  In the context of a party, or in more recent memory, a Beit Gaddol reunion, this was typically a positive effect.  In a firefight, this was potentially fatal.  Adon had scarcely had time to turn away from his first adversary--to register Raizel's exultant "one more!" and register that she was holding her own--before Adon had to duck from a hex hurtled at him.  It ricocheted off the limestone brick, sending fragments of shattered stone into the air.  Adon felt a sting on his neck and, hardly looking, threw a curse over his shoulder which, from the silence that followed, either hit its mark or.... didn't.  There was a bold blast of green light hurtling towards him from another direction, which Adon managed to narrowly avoid by quick Apparation.  By the time he'd settled eyes on the first opponent, Raizel had stepped between where he now stood and the man.  He looked nearly twice her size.

Another flash of light reminded him there was no time.  Turning sharply to face his opponent, Adon noted, with grit teeth, that it was not just one.  Not twenty feet from each other, and each poised to strike, Adon bared his teeth as he summoned one.  The forceful tug seemed to catch the mage unawares.  Adon heard his wand drop to the paving stones,  and continued to jerk the man towards him.  It was only moments before the man and he came face to face that Adon heard the second mage's curse; and Adon watched it take its effect on the hovering mage now directly before him as the man's eyes went wide, and slowly, his body crumbled to ash.

He cast a wolfish grin at the shaken mage. Adon hadn't even needed to kill the man--his companion had done a good enough job himself.  Adon lifted his hand, breathing in the first syllable of his spell when seven shots, in rapid succession, echoed through the courtyard.  Adon's attention was immediately drawn towards what he presumed to be the source--an apartment off the courtyard to the left which, if Adon was to guess, would be Number 207.  If Adon was given another guess, he'd venture to say he knew exactly where the "one more" had wandered off to.

The silence rang in his eardrums more fiercely than the bullets had.  And there was no time.  With a jerk of his arm, Adon lifted the second mage off his feet, crashing him with a shattering force against a courtyard wall.  Dropping his wand arm, the man fell to the ground, and remained still.

 

It took her an instant to realize that there was more than one more -- that Adon, for all his pillar of fire, had more than enough to handle on his own.  Raizel's breath caught at the rapid succession of spells; Adon apparated out of the way, and she quickly moved to take his place, baring her teeth as she faced off against the mage at her friend's back.

He was a huge man, towering over her, with round and robust muscles and a face that practically screamed Turk.  He leered back at her, his wand already in motion as he barked another spell.  Raizel caught the first fired curse on a defensive spell, and ducked out of the way of the second, shielding her head with the arm as it shattered a limestone brick behind her.  She couldn't afford to dodge like this forever.  Adon was far too close behind her.  Even if she managed to get out of the way of each spell, it would not take much in the way of luck for her opponent to hit him.

"Nabu eperu!" she snarled, and the cloud of desiccated limestone dust suddenly froze where it was in the air.  Raizel snapped her wrist towards her opponent with a forceful gesture.  "Habuditu!"

The limestone shards launched themselves back into motion with all the fury of angry bees, and a high-pitched buzz filled the air as the enchanted swarm rocketed back towards the big Turkish mage.  He let out a cry and automatically threw up both hands to protect his face against the unexpected attack.

An instant of distraction was all it took.  Raizel cast hard and fast, sending a burst of electric light slamming towards the big mage's chest, even as a series of gunshots rang out from somewhere outside the courtyard.

The fleeting sense of panic was instinctive.  Raizel shot a frantic look back at Adon, but the other mage was still standing behind her; there was no sign that he had been the target.  The Cursebreaker bared her teeth and then turned to coldly stare at her opponent for moment longer to make certain that he would stay down.  Letting out a huffed breath, she shook her head and turned her back on the Turkish mage's crumpled form, suddenly feeling shaky.

"You are all right?" she asked Adon sharply.  Raizel kept her wand arm raised, the muscles in her jaw clenched tightly as she turned to survey his handiwork.  Three down, and she'd taken two.  That still left one more by his count.  Raizel cast a glance over the nearby buildings, and then looked back at Adon, looking him over tightly in a silent examination. 

She was trembling with something between adrenaline and exhaustion. Raizel was suddenly very aware that she was still in her dress from the evening earlier, that the night was very cold, and that now that the pillar of fire had gone out, there was little warmth here.  Shivering, she scowled at the Auror, turning her attention instead to the crumpled man that Adon had left fallen by the wall.  His features were distorted, his body bruised and grotesque in the death that he'd made for himself, but it didn't matter.  She knew him.

Raizel clenched her teeth, her muscles tight as she turned once more to regard her friend.  Adon was radiating fury too, as frightening and awful as she'd ever seen him.  The burn scars stood out like flames despite the shadows cast over his face.  For once, though, she wasn't afraid.  Let Adon be angry.  Raizel shook her hair out, letting it fall back over her shoulders as she met the Auror's gaze with a cold fury.

"Topuluk," she pronounced icily.  It was as if the word was a curse; she glared at Adon, her jaw set dangerously.  "That one.  And I think that one too."  She jerked her head toward the Turkish mage that she'd left fallen, though her eyes hadn't left the other Israeli.  "Is there still one more?"