Edward sat in his cell on a cot set up across from the bars. He stared straight ahead, staring into the empty cell across the way from him. His long hands hung limply at his wrists, his forearms resting on his thin thighs. His figure was still, except for the almost imperceptible twitch that had developed in the weeks of his imprisonment; a twinge in his neck that jerked his head to the right every five or six minutes. If you didn't look at him at the right time, you would miss it.

He imagined Logan sitting across from him, behind bars just like his. Logan the coward. He'd always been a coward. Edward didn't know how he'd missed it before. Logan didn't have the broadness of mind to appreciate Edward's plans. He was too small, too insignificant. Yes, insignificant he was--but still Edward wanted him dead. His cowardice had ruined everything, and Edward wanted him to pay for it. He wanted Logan to die for betraying him.

But he couldn't die. Edward still needed him. The spell was sill imperfect. Edward despised Logan, but he was necessary. Edward didn't know how to proceed on his own, and if he was going to be honest he didn't have the magical talent. Cal couldn't be understood half the time when he went on his theoretical tangents, throwing equations helter skelter like a madman. Edward needed Logan because Logan understood Ferox's gibberish and could put it into practice. There was work yet to be done. Being imprisoned was just a small setback, the resolution of which he would address after he'd finished plotting Logan's death (to be enacted once his usefulness had expired).

Edward moved, his hands moving to his knees and squeezing tightly. His jaw clenched. He hated to be interrupted when he was in the middle of something, and this was the worst sort of interruption. But he would return. He would have his revenge on all of them: on Ian Fry, on Lucinda and Derry Ballantine. He would make Logan Fletcher wish he was dead but withhold the repose of death. And Ivy...he began to laugh, a high pitched, sharp laughter. He would have Ivy, and he would teach her respect. She thought she'd finally won--foolish woman! He may have been caged, but not for long.

He stood up and walked to the bars of his cell, white hands tightening around the metal. She should be arriving soon.

Azkaban. Shallah stood on the dock while the guards checked her pass information, shuffling through the pile of parchment that she had painstakingly required to be able to step foot on this sad little island. It was interesting, the way that the prison mimicked the country who owned and ran it. Like Britain it was island bound, dank, and overcast. Spray from the sea came up between rocks, flecking icy water in ever direction and she felt and echo of impatience rise up.

One of the two gaurds, a woman looked up at her, as if trying to place exactly what she was but finding it difficult. The woman was young, wary looking, Shallah wondered if this place was some sort of badge of honor for them, why else would they choose to dwell here. The dementors had been a more practical guard force.

Now the man was looking at her, committing the cutting plains and angels of her face to memory. He would fail in his endevour, the memory powder laced on the paper both of them held would ensure that much. Three hours from now and her image would be gone from there minds, and the paper they held would bear new names and a new cell block destination. Really these wizards shoudld be more careful. Garrow had been easy to get to. Humans respected titles even when those who held them had sullied themselves in a heinous way. Even with the knowledge of his crime the courts had tried and sentenced him with his high ranking title sill very much in mind. His sentence had been harsh, life in Akzaban prison, but not overly so. He had his life, and Azkaban was not the experience that it once had been. The two had finished with their inspections, grudgingly they led the way into the building proper.

The Dementors were gone but the effects of what they had done remained. Little lines of magical energy sparking along like static electricity. The humans felt it, low level feelings of unease and dread, that feeling that something was watching you. Shallah not only felt it but saw it, flashes of mimetic resonance seeping from the very walls. It would take its toll if she were to remain for too long. She had no intentions of staying in this stone fortress for too long, only for the duration of her purpose here, whatever that turned out to be. She had her escorts wound down the corridors and hallways followed by the ghosts of screams and shouts from the other prisons, past and present. She did not look at them, they were half lives, inconsequential.

They walked for a time, deeper and deeper into the place. The calls of other prisoners died away, fading completely to silence by the time they reached their destination. The guard stopped her at the beginning of the hallway and strode down it a ways, “Garrow, your visitor is here.” There was a short hushed phrase in return and then the guard beckoned her forward.

It has been years since Shallah had seen Edward Garrow, the sharp faced and malicious man who had a strangely odd capacity for cruelty. Never overly fond of him she took a moment to relish his current accommodation's. Her lips curled up into a smile as she watched him behind the bars. The powder should have begun to take its affect by now. She clasped the bars with her own hands, positioning them right above Edward's then she looked sidelong at the two guards. “You may leave us now, I would like privacy for what is to follow.”

They offered no resistance as she knew would be the case, they simply turned and began retracing their steps down the hallway. Her eyes swept back to Edward, “I think we're alone now.” She leaned a bit, looking over the cramped cell behind him. “My Edward, look what has become of you.”

The typically oppressive silence of the place suddenly roared to life with a variety of sounds: cat-calls, pleading, shouting. Edward's grip on the bars of his cell tightened and he grinned strangely. You see? he wanted to scream. I can't be beaten, because I have connections everywhere. No matter where you throw me, there will be someone there to help me. Because he had the power and the glory that common people aspired to, and they saw him and loved him and served him, so that they could come close to such greatness even though they knew they could never achieve it--poor, sad souls as they were.

“Garrow, your visitor is here.”

"Don't you think I know?" Edward hissed back. Foolish man. Edward knew. He had known, had always known. He'd been expecting her. But it wasn't guaranteed just yet, no, not yet. He would have to barter with her, since she was only there because she wanted what he had--or at least, what he was master of. The guard retreated and she came forward, her steps light and almost silent against the hard, cruel rock of the prison. Edward's pale hands were dead white around the bars and he struggled to hide his grin.

He'd heard stories of her, back when he lived in Ireland. Cormac and that prick Damien Reed had both been quite taken with her on many levels. He had met her only a few times when she came to Cormac to discuss matters of war, and she had always intrigued him. He had always wondered: what was a beautiful woman, a veela, doing bothering herself with the affairs of wizards? But he had been young, and only reaping the benefits of the action, little concerned with the workings of things...and she was elusive. But she stood before him now; tall, almost as tall as him, her skin aglow even in the dankness of Azkaban, her golden hair swept back gracefully from her face. She smirked at him, and Edward felt some tugging at what was left of his heart...but he ignored it. He'd never felt much for blondes.

“I think we're alone now. My Edward, look what has become of you.”

"Is it not the mighty who are persecuted, Shallah?" Edward asked, surprised at the calm tenor of his voice. He twitched. His voice lowered. "I am here because they fear me...because they once trusted me," he said, his pitch rising to normalcy once more. "And would trust me still, if not for a few meddling Irish blood-traitors," he spat, forgetting himself for a moment.

He didn't wait long to talk, she had an idea that Edward rather enjoyed the sound of his own voice. His tone betrayed little of his surroundings. He spoke with the same calm and collected confidence that he would have used in his office, to the public, it was the voice that had gotten him into office. It had been unable to save him. For a brief moment Shallah wished that she could have attended Edward's trial. She wished she could have heard his voice then, how different it must have been to have assisted in bringing him here. Is it not the mighty who are persecuted, Shallah? She smiled with her mouth but not at all with her eyes. Edward's voice went soft, a child imparting a secret and she ducked her own head closer to listen.

I am here because they fear me....because they once trusted me, Maybe it had sounded like that, still him but just a little bit cracked. Just a hint of what was beneath. She leaned back, still gripping the bars as he continued. And would trust me still, if not for few meddling Irish blood traitors,. There was a narrow list of possible candidates with which to apply meaning to that statement. The woman was the first and most likely of those candidates. “Always the women isn't it?” She rocked back, the spindly muscles in her forearms jumping underneath the skin with each swinging motion.

“Though the one until very recently who belonged to you, she is most exceptional. But I must disagree with your reasoning for your current predicament. Respectfully of course. They are afraid Edward but less of you than of what you created. You are fortunate to have escaped with your own body and soul intact. They are content to let you live to death.” Her hands slipped away from the bars and with them flecks of paint and rust, she wiped his hands together to dislodge them. “What a creation it is, they have a name for it now, surely you know it. The fourth unforgivable, capable of cleaving a human soul from its body and leaving it intact.”

“Infuriating.” She remarked finally, and then. “Why Edward? So much time and energy, and effort, your reputation. I have always had difficulty discerning the motivations of your species but this has caused me a particularly high amount of consternation. Your fellow conspirators have merely remarked upon your mental state, but it wouldn't be something so simple.”

“I have been collecting up your strays. Asking questions, but I felt the need to come and see you for myself. What's the phrase....” She lifted her thumb and bit it idly. “Oh yes. 'How the mighty have fallen'.”

“Always the women isn't it?”

Edward granted her a weary, ironic smile. Always the women...if it was always the women, he shouldn't be trusting Shallah to get him out of prison. Not that he really trusted her, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to get out without doing any work himself. But back to the point--Shallah wasn't really a woman. She was a demon wearing a woman's face. She wasn't human. Obviously. She was a veela. Which was another reason Edward shouldn't--and wouldn't--trust her. Hadn't England classified veela as beasts rather than beings? Not that it mattered. England couldn't find the right way to do anything on her own.

They are afraid Edward but less of you than of what you created."

It took all of Edward's will to suppress his anger at her words. Stupid, foolish creature! She didn't know what she was talking about. They were afraid of the spell but it was he alone who could wield it! He alone had the power and will to use it. Calixtus couldn't. Logan wouldn't. But Edward...Edward could and would and that was what England was afraid of. A spell alone did no one any good; neither could it do any harm without a caster. Edward was that caster. Edward had the power. It was Edward they were afraid of!

Shallah just didn't know.

“Why Edward? So much time and energy, and effort, your reputation."

"Sacrifices must be made sometimes, Shallah, to get what you want. And I--want--power," Edward hissed, trying to not lose his temper. "I want absolute power, absolute control--and I have it. Despite all my losses, I have my spell, and they can't take it from me." He laughed, high pitched and sharp. "My mental state? Ha! These fools, they don't understand. They just can't comprehend my plans, and so they call me mad. Ha ha! The smallness of it, the stupidity! It makes me laugh," he said, trailing off into hiccoughing chuckles.

“I have been collecting up your strays. Asking questions, but I felt the need to come and see you for myself."

Edward stopped listening after strays. He stared at Shallah's moving lips without focusing on them, trying to remember who he had left behind, who knew anything more than what the press had printed. It was only Cal and Logan. Only those two. He'd killed everyone else. Cal and Logan. He stared at Shallah, focusing on her now. Did she have both of them? He no longer cared what happened to Cal--Logan was the important one. Logan could do the magic. Did she have Logan?

"My strays?" he repeated, quietly. "Logan? Do you have Logan?" He straightened up and got as close to her as the bars of his cell allowed, peering into her awful cold eyes with his, equally icy. "I haven't fallen yet, Shallah. I've only stumbled. I have plans yet, and I mean to see them enacted."

Sacrifices must be made sometimes, Shallah, to get what you want. And I—want--power. And wasn't that just what they all wanted? I have my spell and they can't take it away from me. This fact was annoyingly true. Calixtus's hesitancy to divulge any of the real specifics of Garrow's work, even with the promise of sanctuary in place he had remained steadfast in his expressed client confidentiality. But there was always the other man, the one from Diagon alley, there was a chance his own research would lend Shallah some insight into the monster Edward had created.

Not to say that the spell placed them on equal ground. Sh still had her own secrets, and her own spell. Not that Edward need know that at this juncture. Their eyes met through the bars and she knew his expression. An assessment was being made, one that was almost certainly unfavorable. She listened to the litany coming forth from his mouth, watching the shapes that it made, catching up on the important sections allowing the others to fade into the air.

His confidence was admirable, even in this place he lorded over his 8 by 5 cell as a king. This was merely a set back, imposed upon him by the idiotic and pathetic public. This was how he thought and would think forever. Ingrained down into him, there was no other way for him to function. But the exile to this lonely little island had done its own sort of damage. The fasad that he had worn like a second skin had frayed around its edges and for the briefest of moments 'his' people had seen the true Edward Garrow. In his mind it had seemed unnecessary to mend these tears, it was possible that he could not even see them, let alone acknowledge them.

His eyes went wide and then hard. My strays?. She nodded solemnly. Logan? Do you have Logan? He drew close, enough that even in the darkness she could have made a game of counting the veins visible in the whites of his eyes. When he spoke his breath assaulted her senses, she flared her nostrils in mild annoyance but said nothing. I haven't fallen yet, Shallah. I've only stumbled. I have plans yet, and I mean to see them enacted..

“I've no doubts about that Edward, but might I inquire as to how you mean to see these plans realized? From here? Your means are sadly limited.” She ran a hand along the stone on the side of the cell, observing the sludge that clung to her skin, threatening to drip down. She flicked it away. “You have no recourses, no allies, and from the intelligence that we have collected your spell isn't entirely workably complete.”

“Logan is a reference to one Logan Fletcher? No. I did consider it. But his recruitment would have likely been unwilling, I couldn't have used his fear of you as an incentive. He seems rather,” She searched for a word, composed from only shreds of evidence. “Self destructive? Though you are more intimately acquainted with him. My assessment could very well be incorrect. Fletcher's disappearance could have sparked more investigation than my employer was currently comfortable with. No, I was making reference to Calixtus Ferox who I must say has commendable client confidentiality. Did you know,” She drew close to the bars, rested an elbow on one and propped up her chin in the palm of one alabaster hand. “He wouldn't impart the more delicate details of your project to me, commendable you should be proud.”

“You have no recourses, no allies, and from the intelligence that we have collected your spell isn't entirely workably complete.”

Edward leaned back, took his hands from the bars and smoothed his hair back from his face. It fell right back to where it had been, of course--he didn't have any pomade here--but smoothing his hair was a nervous habit that the man wasn't even consciously aware of. He was thinking. He couldn't let her know that his attempts to escape had thus far been unsuccessful; he couldn't even let her know that he had made any. He was just biding his time--that was all Shallah needed to know.

It was partially true, anyway. He'd written a letter to Georgiana Reed, who now worked in the International Office of Law in the Irish Council. She was likely working on his extradition order at that very moment; their plan was for Ireland to extradite him in order to try him for his "war crimes" and for his escort to sort of...lose him on the way. That was the slow route, of course. It would take weeks for the Irish courts to approve the order, and even longer for the British courts to agree to it. But it was his back-up should everything else fail.

"Be careful what you assume, Shallah," Edward said smoothly. "I have lost puppets, but I promise you my friends are still loyal. As for the spell..." He looked her in the eye again. "It is complete enough. It killed Holywell, did it not? It needs fine-tuning; like anything else it can be improved."

Which is why I need Logan. It would be difficult, though. Shallah was right about Logan's tendency to self-destruction. He would have to be forced. Edward was loathe to use a spell on him for fear of it hindering his thought process. Logan was no longer afraid of Edward, which meant that blackmail would be more difficult--unless Edward could get Shallah on his side. He looked at Shallah with a different light in his eyes. Play nice with her now, Edward. This may be a profitable visit after all.

"No, I was making reference to Calixtus Ferox who I must say has commendable client confidentiality."

"Ah, Cal," Edward said, laughing fondly. "I'm not surprised that he wouldn't tell you. Information is the only source of power Cal has. He only gives it up for a substantial sum, and sometimes not even then. Good for me, but it must be frustrating for you." He smiled at her. "There are others with the same knowledge whose likelihood to divulge is far more reliable."

Hands released there grip upon the bars and Edward drew back into the murk of his cell. He fidgeted, running a hand back and forth through his hair, classic displays of agitation. It was the only sign that she was going to get of any sort of internal doubt because when Edward spoke next it was with the silken and forceful calm of a trained and bred politician.

Be careful what you assume, Shallah. I have lost puppets, but I promise you my friends are still loyal. She tossed her head at the delusion. Since his arrest an politician in the British Isles worth any sort of merit had all but disowned the man. They shouted from behind their podiums and in front of the gates of their sprawling estate homes that hey had always known that Garrow was up to no good. That his nefarious actions had long been suspected, that prior to the Ministry breaking the department of law enforcement had been 'closing in upon him'. All lies, every single one but so long as the lie was delivered with enough fervor and the right amount of emotional pauses anything could and would be believed.

There was the possibility that Edward had allies in Ireland still. That he would be able to call for help but any aid would delayed forced to crawl through all manner of bureaucracy on its way to his rescue. Both of them were aware of that fact. As for the matter of puppets, really that was a part of his problem. Mindset was key and people did so hate to feel as if they had been used. As for the spell it is complete enough. It killed Holywel, did it not? It needs fine-tuning; like anything else it can be improved. She expressed her consent to that fact with a nod of the head.

“I concede that it was indeed successful in felling the healer. If you had been quicker to dispatch the other interlopers present that night you would not have found your self in the predicament you are now faced with. Carelessness is inexcusable.” Some of her own annoyance was bleeding through. Apparent only in the stock way she stood and the occasional flaring of the nostrils. Edward was contemplating his options now, stalking back and forth as a cat would. Shallah followed the path he trod with her eyes considering her own. When he was back in front of her he stopped the sound from his pacing took a few moments to be swallowed up into the cell block. Options had been considered and his decision had been made.

Ah, Cal, She bristled protectively at the patronizing ring of his laughter. I'm not surprised that he wouldn't tell you. Information is the only source of power Cal has. He only gives it up for a substantial sum, and sometimes not even then. Good for me, but it must be frustrating for you. There are others with the same knowledge whose likelihood to divulge is far more reliable.. Smug it was an emotion embodied by no one quite so well as in Edward Garrow. Lamentably he had a point. It had been frustrating but Shallah was most hesitant to press Cal harshly for anything.

“You under estimate him Edward, I suspect it is a common problem for you. Wasn't it your former Ministers motto that 'it took all kinds' in order to make a society function? Loyalty is such a trouble some virtue, useful when it works in your favor, but as you said frustrating it all other situations.”

“Others? Someone such as yourself Edward? Have I deduced properly? The 4th Unforgivable is troubling and even I do not understand it entirely. Was it meant to kill Holywell? Calixtus made mention of one of your experimental subjects surviving the spell but with the soul removed. She lives, soul and body rejoined. But which of these two options was the one that you intended.” She drew back up to the bars. “I am aware of the way you feel toward me. What reassurances do you offer that you will not make any attempts upon me or my associates?”

"If you had been quicker to dispatch the other interlopers present that night you would not have found your self in the predicament you are now faced with."

She had a point, but Edward gave no outward indication that he agreed with her. It was true; he had ignored the possible threat posed by Caedmon, Snidgeton and the Sinistras. He was aware of the mistake and didn't need Shallah pointing it out to him. He would rectify it at the first opportunity, and they would all end up dead--except for Artemis. He needed her alive long enough to get what he wanted out of Logan. He made a mental note to work her death into his ideas for Logan's execution.

“You under estimate him Edward, I suspect it is a common problem for you."

Was, Edward thought. He was the sort of man who learned from his mistakes and he had certainly learned his lesson here. But he felt confident in his assessment of Cal. The man was as slimy as they came, clinging to whoever was taking care of him at the time. He was entirely dependent on others and that was his weakness; provide for him, and his loyalty was secured. Edward never once doubted that Cal and people like him had their function in society, he simply believed that that function was to serve people in higher positions like him.

“Others? Someone such as yourself Edward? Have I deduced properly?"

"You are a clever woman," Edward said, smiling wryly at her. There; he'd established his usefulness to her. How much information he'd end up giving her was entirely based on how much she would be able to give him, of course, but the offer was on the table. He shook his head at her questions about the curse. "Not now, Shallah. Not here." He tried not to look pleased at the fact that his spell troubled her.

"What reassurances do you offer that you will not make any attempts upon me or my associates?”

"I'm an honorable man, Shallah, whether you consider it a fault or virtue," he replied, some of his old charm coming through. "I repay kindness with kindness and ill will in kind. You have my word that I'll make no such attempts...unless you or your associates give me cause." He smiled at her again. "It's far more profitable for me to have allies than enemies, you know."

You are a clever woman. The assertion was half true at best but Edward was not the type of man who enjoyed to be contradicted. Instead she took the statement as what it was meant to be, a compliment, laced with sweetness and a twist of the face. Her own lips quirked to mimic the expression but her eyes stayed steely and watched his every move, each twitch of the muscles in his face, the way his fingers curled and uncurled themselves.

His usual methods, his charm and silver tongue could do little to move her. She perferred facts over pomp and flattery. But Edward knew better than to provide all of his valuable information to her when he was still trapped in this place, behind steel and enchantments. That was the way that things worked here, nothing was for free and in order to obtain something a thing of equal or greater value would need to be traded.

Not now, Shallah. Not here. Her theory held true, she had learned.

I'm an honorable man, Shallah, whether you consider it a fault or virtue. Edward pressed himself to the bars again, all eyes and flashing teeth. Both were startlingly white considering the circumstances. It's far more profitable for me to have allies than enemies you know..

Shallah tossed her head back, throat working and created a sort of clicking sound. Amusement if Garrow recognized it. “Honor, the definition of the word changes with everyone I meet. Honor to the Romans was giving your enemy the opportunity to surrender, to the Russians its not shotting a retreating man in the back, to you? I have known enough of you to realize that your particular brand of honor is a stretch of the normal way that it is defined by your fellows.”

“I am aware of how you think of me,” Something scuttled between them on the floor, Shallah's eyes followed its meandering path down the darkened hallway. “Would that not be cause enough for you I wonder?” Eyes swept back up to him now, A decision needed to be made, she needed his spell for the sake of security, to assure that he did not interfere with her plans, to do any of this she needed to offer him something as well.

“I propose an alliance Edward. Mutually beneficial to the both of us. My employer and yourself have similar goals but it has been meddlesome to our efforts to have you as a free radical.” There was a need to tread carefully here, make Edward certain that the goals of her organization and his own were one and the same. Purity was such an easy button to press, present the right cause and so few questions were asked. “I have the means and the ability to release you from this place. You can disappear. I will extend an offer to assist you in capturing the means to complete your spell, but in exchange I have demands of my own.”

“No harm will come to Calixtus Ferox or Carmen Snidgeton, both are operatives under my personal protection. I will not have you sullying my name in the aim of revenge for your petty imprisonment. As for the others involved in that night. The Caedmon will be taken care of shortly, I can do no harm to the Sinistra's they are protected by their blood stauts. I would not preclude you however. Secondly I will have access and explanation of your spell. Are these demands suitable?”