Finally showered and fully clean again, Bronwyn flopped down on one of the lower bunk beds. The room was tiny and utilitarian, but it was protection from the sun, and that was all she cared about. She didn't normally have to sleep, but the stress and fatigue from the last several months caught up to her and sent her into a doze.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Screams filled the night, nearly drowning out the sirens approaching from all directions. Smoke gusted by, billowing out from the three-story building as flames crackled and raged inside. <br/>Bronwyn searched frantically for her companions, the ones still alive. David had been torn to pieces by the initial blast, as he had been standing not three feet from Drexler when the explosion happened. Who would have guessed that Drexler would have wired himself with a bomb? Who could have known just wrong the operation would go? A mix of semi-religious fanaticism and close-minded hatred had set off an explosion that ripped apart most of a Chicago city block. Hundreds of innocents lay dead or dying, and most of Bronwyn's group, some of the closest friends she'd had in centuries, were either missing or dead. <br/>Her heart ached for those who were now gone. David, the sweet, shy werewolf, deaf since birth, with a warrior's heart and an iron-clad mission to wipe out the organization responsible for the mess that his life had become. Ivan, the tormented vampire turned reclusive monk, staked out for the sun by Drexler and his minions. Kitiara, who had sacrificed herself during a desperate rescue mission to save her young apprentice, who only ended up committing suicide once he realized his beloved mentor was gone. <br/>The weight of these deaths bore down on Bronwyn's conscience. She felt responsible for not protecting those she held dear. She had been the oldest, one of the leaders, charged with the safety of those who had trusted her, and now they were gone forever. <br/>Lex might have gotten out... she had no idea. He might be among those who were scattered around in pieces, or he might have succumbed to the wild beast within once more and abandoned civilization. Knowing the vampire as she did, though, Bronwyn was almost positive that he had not. Another dear friend of hers who was most likely dead. <br/>Mikhail was no where to be found. Bronwyn raced around the building, panic growing as she failed to sight the unaging doctor. Firetrucks, ambulances, and police cars had arrived on the scene, paramedics spread out, assessing the wounded and the dead, while firefighters did their best to try to contain the flames and police started securing the scene. <br/>Bronwyn headed for the gaping hole in the side of the building, the only place she hadn't searched. Police and firefighters ran to intercept her, shouting that the building was going to collapse and she couldn't go back in. One bulky firefighter stepped into her path, arms spread as if to catch her and restrain her.<br/>"There's nothing you can do! Whoever is still in there is gone!" He shouted at her.<br/>"Not yet!" Bronwyn screamed desperately, knocking him aside as if he were made of paper. He flew several feet before landing on his back and sliding across the pavement. <br/>She stopped breathing once she was inside to avoid choking on the smoke. It was everywhere. Support beams and debris crashed all around and on her, but she shrugged it aside and kept moving. Her clothes were on fire, but Bronwyn barely felt the heat. Her skin healed almost as soon as it burned, not slowing her down at all. <br/>She raced up a flight of stairs, vaulting over gaps where the stairs had already collapsed, and began searching the second floor. Twice she nearly fell through as the floor started to collapse under her feet. She found Mikhail crumpled in a corner, unmoving as the flames blazed all around him. <br/>Bronwyn searched frantically for a pulse... but he was already gone. Bloodred tears filled her green eyes as she slowly lowered the doctor's eyelids, whispering an ancient Gaelic prayer for his soul.</span><br/>"Bealtaine Ã¡thas agus sÃ­ochÃ¡in timpeall ort, contentment latch do dhoras, agus a bheith sonas a bhfuil tÃº anois, agus tÃº bless siadsan feasta."<br/><br/>Bronwyn's eyes snapped open and she bolted upright, nearly slamming her head on the bunk just above her. The nightmare replayed over and over in her head, memories of the disastrous night and the aftermath that had followed. She stood and dressed quickly, her inner sense telling her that dawn was still hours away. She had to get out. If she stayed locked in this room, she would relive one horrifying experience after another, and she had no desire to spend any more time locked in nightmares. She left the small inn and lost herself in the darkness of the night.