He had been tracking her for half of the night, following the woman from bar to nightclub to bar again, not finding the nerve to actually speak to her. Paul, old mate, he thought, one of these days you'll have to grow yourself a spine.

He watched as she swayed up a red canopied walkway, past two leering bouncers and into the blue murkiness of another club. Outside, thin, beautiful people smoked thin, fragrant cigarettes, speaking of stocks and Michaelangelo with tinny, flippant laughs. Paul hadn't seen anything quite as wonderful as this in his life.

He waited in the shadows until a properly boisterous and pretty throng made their way drunkenly to the entrance, then joined them with a properly disdainful smile. Only those who cared to notice would see that the boy's thin face was a shade too smooth to be an adult's, and the practiced cynicism of the group he followed didn't quite reach his sparkling eyes. He wore a silver-gray shirt with a dull sheen, black pants creased deadly sharp, and a death black coat that hugged the youthful lines of his body and brushed his thighs. Paul looked sixteen like the dream woman he followed looked like Mother Theresa. He put a friendly arm around a woman's waist and sauntered past the bouncers.

"Lovely to see you again," he murmured in her ear. The stranger only giggled in response, a little startled but quite happy to have a handsome thing like that with his arm around her. As soon as they were inside and she had paid his cover, Paul took his arm away and put her right hand into his. With a "Good-night, sweet lady," he kissed the hand, then wended off to find the elusive lovely he had followed there.

If only Jon could see me now, he thought impishly, for once glad to be separated from the soceress. The sweet humidity of perfumed bodies dancing did nothing to keep his mind on the demon he was seeking, but the pulsating music didn't completely distract him from Jon's orders.

"This is seek and capture," she had told the entire Circle. "We want this demon back in one piece. Knights: visors and armor on at all times. James, this means you." A voice protested but was smacked into silence.

"Mages: keep your energy levels down. We don't want this thing smelling us and running. We're in a populated area, so capture but don't engage. I repeat: do not engage unless lives are in danger. And no flying in the city, sorcerers!"

Knights and sorcerers had split into their regular pairings and made off into the New York night. As usual, Paul accompanied his older sister, until Jon reasoned that they could cover more ground if they split up. He had quickly agreed to patrol downtown while she went up. Jon had given him only the hint of a suspicious look before acquiescing.

With a promise to "Be good" and a pinch to his cheek, Paul had dutifully made his way off, fully intending to do Jon proud. But then he had run into something much more stimulating than any old demon: a group of girls. Entranced, he had watched as they giggled their way into a building throbbing with mega-bass. They shouldn't be alone with a demon about, he had thought bravely, then followed them in.

Paul had felt a sharp pang of guilt when he had entered that first nightclub, but thankfully it hadn't lasted too long and besides, what was the possibility that he'd run into either the demon or Jon? It wasn'tlike the others couldn't handle one little wolf by themselves. And anyway, Paul rationalized he was still patrolling. Granted, in a nightclub while chasing after a ravishing redhead, but he was still patrolling.

He skirted around the edges of the main dance floor, wading through the sticky, humid air and the pounding noise. Couples and groups thrashed and gyrated to the beat of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, the techno version. A slender hand pawed at his chest and he brushed it away gently with an apologetic smile. The woman he was following had disappeared into the heaving crowd. I'll find her, he thought, passing the woman who had paid his cover without so much as looking in her direction. She made an obscene gesture at Paul's back that he also didn't see as he dodged a downy brown arm reaching for his waist.

Paul assumed that the main reason the High Council had sent all of them out was so the whole lot could work off excess energy and the Council could get some peace. Even he had to admit that twelve knights and twelve sorcerers, all under the age of twenty-five, could prove taxing, especially after the oh-so-little thing the Circle had done the previous night.

So the knights had thrown an impromptu party (mostly at Paul's insistence, a fact he hoped none of the Council knew). So some unnamed person and two of his unnamed friends had challenged some of the younger mages to a fight. So they had totally destroyed section 314 of Demon Containment, allowing a class D canus diablos to escape. They were young. Exuberant. Effervescent. They were alive, for goodness sake, and who could expect them to be the epitome of chivalry and honor at all times? It wasn't like they had meant to let the wolfie loose and besides, weren't they all making amends by chasing the blighter down? A school of girls with glittering faces shimmered by Paul as the lights flashed blue and green with the music. He was certainly atoning for his misdeeds.

The glittering girls tried to crowd him onto the dance floor. He sidestepped them gracefully and glided towards the bar, the only place he could look sophisticated without breaking a sweat.

What passed for dancing appealed to him about as much as a fish on a bicycle. Though he didn't drink, there was something quite romantic about sitting by the bar and chatting up the desperate lovelies who hung about there. Not that he'd actually ever do anything with those ladies: to become inebriated before a lady was inelegant and he somehow didn't think the Council would approve of him taking anyone back to his room. And, of course, Jon would kill him.

But the dream woman would be at the bar, too, as she had been inthe other spots: aloof, calm, and curvaceous, picking through the crowd with a wolfish eye. Not at all insecure or desperate, not with that hungry, almost haughty look in her eyes which had gone right through Paul when he had first attempted to talk to her.

"Ah," he had said, his hands in his pockets and his eyes slightly widened with uncharacteristic fear and embarrassment. In the presence of her sex appeal, Paul felt as gawky as a sixteen-year old could feel. The woman had brushed past him, her bare shoulder touching his coat, leaving him open-mouthed and breathing in her musky perfume.

"Ah," he had said again, his voice an octave higher. Of course he had to follow her. And not only because her perfume had dragged him along by the nostrils, but also because she had left her purse on that first bar, and, being a gentleman, Paul was obliged to return it. Eventually.

It's just a purse, he reasoned to himself, Just another girl. Just another night. What's there to be nervous about? The purse rubbed against his hip in the inside pocket of his coat. It was made from a supple leather, dyed deep red like the woman's strapless, hugging dress. And the purse had smelled just like her. Paul's mouth wrinkled into a grin as he walked straight into a dancing couple.

"Oh, so sorry!" he said, stepping back out of his reverie. The couple barely noticed him as they continued their dry hump to the techno Beethoven. Paul moved on with a disgusted shake of his head, then stopped. He turned back towards the couple with horror. The man's face was buried in the woman's breasts, but his lanky, neon purple hair was unmistakable.

"Shit!" Paul swore, yanking the man off of his companion. The blue-tinted shades slipped down on the dancer's nose. The whites of his eyes were as pink and flushed as his skin. Confused, the dancer blinked at Paul then waved his hands in front of him with limp-wristed karate chops.

"Hai! Heeyah! Hee!" the boy said with a slur, "Baka! Omae o korosu!" Paul sighed and slapped the young knight back and forth across the face with gentle cuffs.

"Do shut-up, James," Paul said, mortally embarrassed at the sight of the drunken boy. He pulled James from the dance floor and away from his dancing partner who had started shaking her hips at Paul.

"You wait right there, sexy mama!" James cackled as he was dragged along. Paul shoved the now giggling James up against a wall and leaned on him, ignoring the looks people gave them.

"What are you doing here?" Paul hissed, "Where's Jesse?" James' response was a drunken giggle followed by a "Hey, P-chan! How's it hanging?"

At fourteen, James was too young to be wandering about without his sorceress, so that must have meant that Jesse was probably somewhere nearby.

Just my luck, thought Paul miserably. Jesse was sure to kill them both. Along with Jon.

Paul took a hesitant sniff at James' breath then wished he hadn't. The boy reeked of cheep beer and cheap perfume, the victim of his own poor taste in dancing partners. How immature, Paul thought as he scanned the crowd, seeing neither Jesse nor the dream woman. James' condition seemed to indicate a prolonged period of debauchery, something the frighteningly strict Jesse would never allow. The sorceress was, for some reason, absent, and if she had been around, Paul's visor would have alerted him. Paul patted James on the head, his disgusted face becoming angrier.

"James, you're not wearing your armor or your helmet," Paul scolded the boy, who was now falling asleep.

"Yeah, well, you ain't either," James mumbled, feebly trying to push Paul away.

Oh shit, Paul thought, then reached to his head with an apparent mime of pulling something down over his eyes. Despite Jon's orders, Paul had turned his armor off, not wanting to explain why he was surrounded by an invisible energy shield as he was patted down upon entering the club. Plus, the thing was damn hot and he didn't want to sweat in his outfit. The helmet (invisible, too) was on his head, but he had pushed the visor up to properly ogle the redhead.

Oh shit, he thought once more, realizing he now probably had to care for James instead of chasing his dream woman. The DJ had mixed in "Don't Cry For Me Argentina". Somehow, the song seemed highly appropriate to the suffering Paul.

He adjusted the filters on his visor and saw that James was glowing red, a sure sign of Jesse's work. She had cast a protection spell over James, wisely realizing he'd eventually turn off the stifling armor. They too had probably split up to cover more ground. The spell would keep James from being eaten by the demon and, as Paul's visor continued its analysis, would warn the mage of any danger to the boy. However, the spell wouldn't keep young James from the dangers of getting drunk and dancing with women twice his age.

"Let's go, James," Paul said with true sorrow in his voice, pulling the drooping boy towards him and truly feeling Eva Perinea's loss. A step later, Paul shoved James back against the wall and quickly pushed his visor up. James crumpled to the floor, passed out and drooling.

"Wait here!" Paul commanded, giving James a friendly kick as he made off again, adjusting his jacket and quickly checking his breath against his hand.

The dream woman was standing in front of Paul, her back turned to him, her bare skin caressed by her cascading red hair.

Thank-you God! Paul thought, and cleared his throat grandly. The DJ switched to a techno Hallelujah chorus and the joyous voices sang out as he touched the woman's naked shoulder.

"Ha-ha-ha-hallelujah!"

She turned to face him, her blue eyes cool and inviting. Paul felt his mouth go dry and heat rise in his chest.

"I," he started, "Ah." She smiled and shook her head, not understanding.

"Ha-haha-hallelujah!"

"Ah," he continued, pulling the red purse from the inside of his coat. He held it up to her, his eyes wide. The woman's eyes widened too, her shiny lips parting in a smile.

"Paul!" An explosion erupted behind him, followed by the enraged voice shouting his name again. In a move, he fell forward, shielding the surprised woman, then rolled off of her, a little regretfully. Energy surged around him as his armor came to life, and he flicked his visor down, ready to attack. Around him the club was in chaos, the Hallelujah chorus still playing amid the screams of the escaping patrons.

"Paul!" A gray-cloaked figure was speeding towards him, a flame of pure white streaking out of her gloved hand. "Get down!"

Paul dropped to a knee, then looked up for the all-clear. Instead, he watched, horrified, as the flame ricocheted back, hitting the cloaked woman in the chest.

"Jon!" Paul started towards the sorceress, his hand coming down hard on something squishy. He picked it up to toss it aside then realized it was the woman's purse. He blinked. With his visor on, he could see that the purse had the hard double-outline of a containment spell.

Oh, please, no, he thought, opening the purse.

"Tonto!" a voice shrieked, "No lo abres!" A red ball of flame flew at him, only to bounce off a shadowy shield. Paul barely noticed. A large, snarling wolf's head had popped out of the purse and was trying to bite his arm off. There's the demon_, he thought absurdly before panicking.

"Paul! Paul!" he heard Jon and Jesse scream as the wolf's head gnawed his armored arm.

"Bloody, bloody, bloody hell!" he yelled, the wolf's head throwing him back to the ground. And he had been carrying this thing close to his ... hip.

"Hallelujah!" the techno chorus continued. The red-haired woman was standing over Paul's head, smiling. Around them, a protective shield emitted a dark light, cutting the knight off from his sorceress.

"Didn't realize I'd lost that," the witch said, her blue eyes glittering evilly.

"Thanks for returning it." She started to laugh as Jon and Jesse resumed their attack, their bolts bouncing off of the shield.

"Let the boy go!" Jon shouted. Jesse was cursing in Spanish.

"What do you care?" the woman laughed cruelly, "He's just another knight." The wolf's slobber was dripping down Paul's cheeks and he could feel bile rising in his throat. The jagged teeth were pushing into his skin. The armor was going to give at any moment. _A little help would be nice_, he thought, then remembered James, still asleep on the floor nearby.

"James!" he shouted, then: "Jesse! James by the wall! Aah! Bad dog! Wake him up!" The magenta haired mage looked to the right of the shield and swore.

"Cono! He's drunk!" She fired off a red bolt at the snoozing boy and he was on his feet, sober and alert.

"Kusobaka!" James swore, his black armor wrapping around him, his sword in hand.

With a cry, James leapt at the shielded witch, sword raised high. The red-haired woman calmly turned to James, her eyes off of Paul, and shot a black flame at the boy. James fell back with a crash, his armor blinking off. Here goes, thought Paul, and pulled himself forward into a ball, the wolf's head breathing straight into his face.

"Just another knight," the woman said with a cackle, as if she had made a great joke, then turned back towards the sorceresses.

With a loud "Bugger! Paul shoved himself back and rolled over, knocking the woman to the ground and landing on her face. The wolf's head, slightly stunned, loosened its grip and Paul launched himself over it, snapping his arm free and landing in a crouch back where he had started. The slobbering head began to attack the next nearest thing. The red-haired witch screamed and the dark shield went down.

Paul rose slowly and gracefully, circling his left hand by his hip. In a swirl of light, a sword appeared and his gleaming white armor flashed into view. The witch struggled with the wolf, her protective shield now covering her upper torso and her head. With an easy swing, Paul loped the wolf's head off and it rolled away, still snarling. For a second, the shield dropped and the witch was open. In a beat, the point of Paul's sword was at her throat. She snarled with rage, black energy crackling around her eyes, but she did nothing. Jon was standing behind Paul, glaring down at the defeated witch.

"Don't move," Jon advised the woman, then turned with a disapproving look to her brother. To their side, a cursing Jesse was pulling a woozy James to his feet. With a smack to the boy's head, she pulled James away as he protested in Japanese.

"Paul..." Jon began sternly. From the sound of her voice, Paul knew Jon saw only one thing wrong with the destroyed club, the dead demon, and the drunken James: Paul. Without taking his eyes from the woman, he dropped his head slightly down and gave a weak, apologetic smile.

"Just another night on the town, eh, Jon?" His sister put a gloved hand to her head and sighed. Her dark skin was fairly glowing red with anger, but Paul knew that she'd drop it for now.

"Just another night," she agreed tersely. Paul winced as Jon cuffed him on the back of his shoulder. She moved off to help clean up the mess, growling to herself. The Hallelujah chorus was finally winding down.

Resigned, the witch crossed her arms and looked up at Paul with a hate-filled grimace. Paul smiled down at her, almost shyly.

"Lovely evening," he said, a smile curling around his face, "Fancy a date later?"