No. No. No. No. No.

The word echoed in her head dully as she stared at the muggle test in her hand.

It couldn't be. It had to be a lie. It had to be. It was just wrong. That one, and the other six. And the spells. And her body. They were all wrong.

God. This can't be happening to me.

She tossed the thing in the trash and put her head in her hands. Very rarely did Carmen ever feel vulnerable, much less look it, but as she leaned against the bathroom wall and contemplated how quickly she could kill the thing, she looked exactly that.

It would have to be killed. That's what it came down to. There was no other option. It would ruin her plans with the paper, and her plans for Christie, and the Ministry...in particular it completely destroyed her plans to get back at Sinistra for what he had done to her. As she thought of that name, a flash of red hot rage filled her and she clenched her fists so tightly that her nails drew blood. She stared at the ring of crescent shaped cuts that seeped blood.

Knockturn Alley.

That would be the quickest route. There were poisons there. And she had heard of a squib who procured such things as could kill a child, if there was nothing in the alley that could help her.

How had things gone wrong so quickly? One moment she had been publishing the biggest story of her journalism career, the biggest story in the twenty first century, and the next she was hiding out in Sinistra's basement, getting raped, hounded by Ministry officials and obscure thugs who wanted her for something...it's the price you pay, Carmen, said her grandmother's piercingly cold voice in her head, It's the price you pay for being yourself.

Carmen stood up and wiped the blood off her hands onto her robes. There was only one choice. Go to Knockturn Alley now, kill it off, and get back to writing articles. She still had the pictures from Christie, multiple copies of them hidden in various places. She could work on that. She would kill the child and write. Destroy someone else's life. But not hers. She had to survive.

With a ringing pop she disappeared from the bathroom.

But rather than reappear outside of the Leaky Cauldron, as she had planned, something else had happened. Halfway through apparating, something steely wrapped itself around her waist and yanked her in another direction. It happened so quickly that her surprise didn't get the chance to sink in until she was already in her new destination.

A hallway. A house. No windows. Where was she? Immediately she whipped out her wand and pointed it at whoever had grabbed her--but no one was there.

"Come out!" she shouted, her voice sounding oddly cracked in her ears, "Show yourself or so help me I will burn this place to the ground!"

She asked for it. A thug appeared out of a door--he was laughing at her!--and took her wand and yanked her in the direction of a doorway, all the while Carmen cursed him and threatened to unleash all the furies of Hades upon his head.

"Let. Me. Go!"

Shallah looked up as soon as she felt the ripple of apparition in the hallway and registered the sound a second later. That had been exceedingly easier than she had at first anticipated. Snidgeton had all but vanished after the publication of her stirring article and much as Shallah loved a good chase after a full two weeks of searching even she had grown weary. The woman had all but delivered herself; apparition was something that, given the proper means and talents could be easily tracked, they had just had to wait for Snidgeton to make use of the ability.

Come out! Show yourself or so help me I will burn this place to the ground.. Pursing her lips Shallah rose from her seated position on the floor and nodded to Fritjof, who gave her the briefest nod in return before exiting the room. She lifted a hand to straighten a few stray locks of wispy hair and cast a brief glance into the large mirror on the other side of the room. The importance of first impressions was something that both cultures shared, and she had no intention of making the wrong sort. Another shout from the hallway, this one sounding more frantic, slightly panicked, but above all of it there was seething rage.

Some of the curses Shallah could recognize, others sounded odd and unfamiliar. She committed them to memory, making a note to discover there meaning later. Finally the curses pettered out and were replaced with an order as Fritjof turned the handle and escorted the journalist into the room, “Let.Me.Go.” .

“Honor her request.” Shallah intoned quietly and Fritjof obeyed immediately dropping his grip on the woman’s arm. Before she turned Shallah listened, heavy breathing, increased heart rate, then she frowned, blood. Pivoting on one ankle she looked to Fritjof barely regarding the woman seething next to him. “I gave strict orders that she not to be harmed.” Looking down at the reporter, she saw no injuries, her eyes traveled down. All the while Fritjof babbled in his broken Scandinavian that he had done nothing. She waved him away. “Leave us.” He hesitated and she inclined her head. “I will not make the request twice, her wand, then leave us.” She waited until the door was firmly closed and she heard his footfalls receding.

She toyed with the wand, holding it up in the light, feeling the magic throbbing around it. “You, are a very difficult woman to track, even more difficult to obtain.” Now she looked at her, and was surprised. Shallah wasn’t an excellent judge but this woman seemed young, small, and fragile, then she looked into her eyes and a part of her understood. “Although,” She walked to one of the side tables along the long couch at the center of the room and lifted Carmen’s article into her hands. “I suppose you had no choice but to cower.” Her eyes peaked at Carmen over the paper. “Have you been harmed? And is there anything you require beyond your immediate release?”

“Honor her request.”

The thug let go of her arms as the woman spoke. She had an Eastern accent. And she looked...strange. Even with her back turned there was something strange about her. Carmen analyzed her and for a moment she forgot the poisonous little nine month time bomb waiting in her stomach.

“I gave strict orders that she not to be harmed. Leave us. I will not make the request twice, her wand, then leave us.”

The thug babbled in some language and finally left. Carmen glared daggers at him and made a mental note to find out who he was, where he lived, and how much he was worth. Then the woman turned around and it became perfectly clear what was so strange about her.

Veela. Her defenses, which had already been more than raised by her sudden appearance in the strange house and the thug, now locked down as tightly as if she were a CIA agent who just heard the words 'Russian Spy.' Merlin! Sometimes Carmen really hated her life. This is the price you pay. This is the Price You Pay, Carmen...

“You, are a very difficult woman to track, even more difficult to obtain. Although, I suppose you had no choice but to cower. Have you been harmed? And is there anything you require beyond your immediate release?”

Cower. That wasn't the word Carmen would use. Save her own skin, yes, but never cower. She was just smart enough to know when to lay low. No! Pay attention! She pushed away her disgust at the word, the situation, her 'situation,' and gathered her wits about her. She was dealing with a veela who somehow had control of the apparition bug. She was in a house, probably in a foreign country, and she didn't even have her wand on her. Whatever money was in her pockets would probably be useless. Her words would be her only weapons. And the woman was already holding some of those.

"Tell me who you are and what I'm doing here," replied Carmen in a flat cold voice.

The woman was overconfident, that much was obvious. But she supposed that if she were a women possessed with the power of ageless beauty, the ability to transfigure into a bird, and spit fireballs from her hands, she'd be a bit cocky too.

Wait.

Her article. The apparition bug. Her thoughts organized themselves suddenly as she examined the woman. Missing pieces fell into place. Either she had been working with Garrow on the fourth unforgivable, or she wanted to know more about it. She very well may be the person responsible for the disappearances, if she could control the apparition bug, if she were even the source. And if that were true, if any of it were true, then the woman could be immensely useful. A-ha! Not such a wasted kidnapping after all, is it?

"And tell me where you're keeping Harry Potter," she added.

Why not? She already broke the news of the fourth unforgivable, it would do her reputation good to herald the return of The Savior of The Wizarding World.

She just had to escape first.

A kind of realization came into Carmen's face and then the whole of her features shut down, as if lowering a steel shutter. So she had deduced the truth? It wasn't very difficult really, and it would save Shallah the time of explaining it at some other time. Did the woman think she would attempt to use her 'veela wiles' on her? It was always an option but from what she had learned humans had a definite problem with being manipulated. It was a sort of boundary for them and when Shallah could avoid it, she tried to respect that boundary. It was an especially important line to avoid crossing when one was hoping for some sort of civility in a situation. Carmen was sharp, that much was obvious, she had to be in order to have gone so far, and learned so much about something so secret. Shallah had had no idea of this curse, she had heard rumors floating on the smoke and booze soaked air in pubs about people showing up in hospitals with no souls, and no signs of dementor attack. She had brushed them away, humans were unthinking fools, anyone could have started such a rumor and dementors were hardly the only threat to a human soul. But Shallah had been wrong and the knowledge of how wrong she had been ate at her. The feeling had ate at her the whole time that she searched madly for the reporter who might be able to give her the answers that she needed. With all this in mind she was making a point to try and be as delicate as possible.

It was the Junior Editor who spoke first, ”Tell me who you are and what I'm doing here,. As far as demands went these were completely reasonable. Her first question would have thrown Shallah off had she not been living among humans for so long. They often asked things in such a vague way, and with no knowledge of what question like who are you? could mean to a veela. From long experience Shallah could tell what she meant and so she answered a complicated question as simply as possible. “I am veela, though I am sure you have already concluded that. Shallah is my name Kosa is my clan title you may refer to me as either or neither as is your will.” Now she leveled a look at her, approaching and placing the article in her hands, “I believe that both of us know the reason for your presence here. For the sake of cooperation I will speak it aloud. This article, what you found, what you saw, and what you did not include. My colleagues and I have questions.”

Another realization dawned in the reporters face, and Shallah frowned for a moment could almost here the brain in that thing skull working through something. Then Carmen looked up at her and spoke again, “ And tell me where you're keeping Harry Potter.. For a moment Shallah didn't move at all. Standing perfectly still and tall feeling both admiration and resentment toward this human who had figured things out so quickly. Dangerous her instincts hummed in rhythm with her slow breathing. “Do you think yourself in a position to be so demanding Miss Snidgeton?” It was neither a confirmation nor a denile.

“Edward is looking for you.” She said instead seating herself and smoothing out a few of the incidental wrinkles it caused on the skirt of her dress. “He means to kill you when he finds you. Is this the reason you are hiding?” A brief glance in her direction. “I am willing to extend an offer of protection to you but you and I both know these things come at a price. Your article is detailed but lacking where it counts most. I need details of this spell that steals a human soul.”

“Do you think yourself in a position to be so demanding Miss Snidgeton?”

She didn't respond, only offer her crocodile smile. It was an excellent sign that she avoided the question. The veela knew. The matter of whether or not she was keeping him, and where he was, were two things she would have to pursue at a different time. When she wasn't in an oddly precarious situation with a Potter-napping terrorist veela and no longer had an unborn parasite to deal with.

“I am veela, though I am sure you have already concluded that. Shallah is my name Kosa is my clan title you may refer to me as either or neither as is your will.”

"Shallah Kosa," repeated Carmen in a flat voice. The name was unfamiliar. She would have to look up as much as she could--though if she were veela and foreign, her chances of finding anything were slim.

But Kosa must have some sort of connection to Britain! Carmen knew that at the very least she kept up with the papers and knew who Carmen was. She was politically minded, if the article she chose to point out were any indication, and of course, there was the apparition bug. She had pinned it on Garrow in her last article but now apparently the concept belonged to the woman. Was she connected to Garrow? Some sort of foreign aid with his dementor's kiss curse?

“I believe that both of us know the reason for your presence here. For the sake of cooperation I will speak it aloud. This article, what you found, what you saw, and what you did not include. My colleagues and I have questions.”

She didn't respond, only blinked.

“Edward is looking for you. He means to kill you when he finds you. Is this the reason you are hiding?”

"Obviously."

She didn't add that she had really been trying to avoid various mysterious henchies for quite some time now, and she had no idea whether they belonged to Garrow, the Ministry, the Syndicate, or even this woman, and she had unfortunately been impregnated--eugh, the very thought made her sick!--by a certain Prophet underling. Her life was rapidly devolving into a tragedy.

“I am willing to extend an offer of protection to you but you and I both know these things come at a price. Your article is detailed but lacking where it counts most. I need details of this spell that steals a human soul.”

Kosa didn't know, then. Not that Carmen knew much, either, but at the very least Snidgeton knew the incantation and had seen the lock box device. The concept of Shallah's ignorance filed away in her mind. She could be lying to hide her connections or she could honestly not know--in which case, her connections to Garrow were flimsy at best. Then again, maybe he tricked her somehow. The woman's veela face made it difficult to gauge her emotions.

"I know as much as you do," she replied. "Garrow hardly invited me into his inner sanctum. But I may know a few things. What sort of protection are you offering."

Rather than sit down she continued to watch the woman move like a mist around the room, touching things but leaving no trace. She came and went like the apparition bug.

Watching the face of the reporter was very similar to looking into the workings of a clock. Gears and pendulums twisting and winding as the reported scanned and processed everything around her. The woman had a reputation for being shrewed, acceptably ruthless and very very clever. Shallah had been following her for some days and had marveled at the reporters efforts to conceal herself. She had almost succeeded at fading away completely, some outside force had driven her out. Shallah was curious as to what could be so important for Carmen to leave whatever safety she had found but there would be time enough for that kind of prying later. For now Shallah had to concentrate on Garrow and his apparent pet project.

How had she not known to look for him? A foolish and simple mistake, she had thought him as harmless to her plans but not she was quickly revising her opinion. A change in tactics was in order and confronting Garrow in person was out of the question, she had no way of knowing what he knew. If he knew she was in London, if he had seen a mark of her on the apparition bug, it was doubtful, but Shallah had come to far to allow her caution to fall away. She was aware of the human's eye combing over her features, looking for familiar tells, ticks, some way to gage what Shallah might be thinking, might be feeling. Humans wore so much in their face and eyes. When she began Shallah had made an effort to learn them all. Every new expression practiced in the mirror had delighted her but then she had learned what they could give away. Now she only took them out and displayed them when the situation dictated and this was not one of those celebrated moments. She returned Carmen's gaze evenly and straight on, her chin parallel with the floor.

I know as much as you do,. Lie or the truth? Camen's face was almost as impassive as any veela's but there were still base emotions that could be analyzed. Garrow hardly invited me into his inner sanctum. But I may know a few things. What sort of protection are you offering.. Negotiation then. Shallah considered a moment, tilting her head and scrutinizing the woman. Before beginning one of these conversations it always behooved on to try and look to the future. What could the person offer you in return? What would you have to give? Equivalent exchange. The veela had an idea that Carmen was largely accustomed to the opposite, people doing things for her while she passed small favors, like morsels to dogs. Strong willed people tended to me more difficult to work with but the reporter had witnessed it, and seemed to have no affection for Edward Garrow.

Shallah sat, pressing her skirt flat across her lap before offering Carmen the seat across from her. “You may know a few things? Humans love semantics don't they?” With the slender fingers of one hand she toyed with the lining of one of the throw pillows, a restless motion. “The level of protection I can provide will depend upon you. You posses my name and I have no doubt once I release you from here you will proceed to find all you can about me.” She paused, momentarily unsure of how to continue. “As a gesture of good faith I will save you the effort and the frustration. For the last forty years I have worked as a mercenary, all across Europe. I was in the employ of the criminal organization you know was the Syndicate for a number of years, I was a protector and should you or any possible contacts ask around you would find that none of my protectorates were ever killed while under my care. You might also look at the Death Eater salvaging in Russia, a year after the second fall of Voldermort, if you need further proof of my skills.”

“I offer that information to you as a competency marker, my credentials if you will. Be assured that should I take you under my care you could largely return to your life before the article. There would of course be inconveniences involved but surely nothing so awful was living in the home of one of your most hated employees?” Another pause in which Shallah allowed the fact that she had known where Snidgeton was hiding to sink into the reporter. “I have worked with Edward in the past, if it is clear whose care you are under he will certainly hesitate before making any harmful gestures toward you.”

“I would have to make my presence known to him. A potentially dangerous act towards myself and my organization, I am willing to do so should it result in gaining further information about whatever obscene things Edward has loosed. The protection remains as long as I continue to receive valuable information from you.” Shallah opened her hands palm up on her lap, a small offering gesture. “Are these terms acceptable Junior Editor in chief?”