Redfern Manor is a large, red-bricked building that stands tall and wide, four storeys in height and spanning one acre. It is hidden behind walls just as tall, and strong, iron gates, camouflaged deep within the forests of New England by thick crawling ivy that has made of itself a cocoon in the centuries it has had to grow.

It houses within its walls a wide array of runaways, most of them Supernatural, a few of them mortal. Each of them are running from something, or someone, but they are all bound together by a fear so bone-deep that the high walls do nothing to soothe their worries.

Kushial Carrington glanced up at those walls, her home, and bowed her head.

She loathed this place just as much as she loved it. It was her shelter and her prison, as it had always been and would always be, and within it lived her friends and her guardians. She called it home and was content enough to do so, for Kushial was not a hard person to please, but the feline in her called for something more.

It called for freedom.

You gave that up a long time ago, she scolded, and shook the idea from her thoughts. She turned sharp eyes towards the setting sun and watched in quiet fascination as it cast out its russet fingers to play along the surface of the lake. Shadows trailed after them, nipping at its tips like a restless puppy, and Kushial felt the same restless stirring beneath her skin.

Scowling, she turned away and reluctantly dragged her aching feet up the driveway.

"Lookin' good, KC," came a lazy drawl from her right and she turned to see Reed Redfern, her best friend, heading towards her, his beloved Harley rolling beside him. He paused in front of her and sprang the stand on his motorcycle. Brushing blood-red hair out of his eyes, the lamia grinned impishly at her. "Been running yet?”

Kushial shook her head and felt her hastily-made bun grow loose. Wisps of shocking white hair fluttered against her curved cheeks.

"No, I--"

She swallowed. What could she say? That she had been having the dreams again? That she didn't know if it was natural intuition or paranoia that was whispering for her to stay away from the forests because somewhere among the shadowy trees he was waiting for her?

Stupid, she thought, but when she blinked electric blue eyes snapped across her vision.

She smiled tightly at her best friend, knowing full well it was fruitless. Reed often feigned indifference, but it was a well-crafted act that led most people to believe he wasn't all that bright. The mood-swings, the scowls, the short-temper; behind the pale-green eyes of a spoilt little rich boy no one caught the sharp, knowing glow. He watched and he learnt and he chose his friends well.

He knew fear when he saw it and why Kushial tried to pretend otherwise, she didn't know.

"I'm not crazy, Reed," she said, glancing over her shoulder towards the forest. "My instincts have never been wrong. Except when--"

"--except when he made them that way," the vampire finished. His face was soft but no longer elfin-like. His boyish features were grim now and his eyes were solemn. He moved to sit sideways on the Harley and pulled Kushial against him. She leaned back and turned her head into the crook of his neck.

"That was a long time ago," she said softly. "I couldn't even change then because of what he did. But I'm better now. I am."

She knew that was a lie. Her skin still felt too tight sometimes, her body too awkward. She didn't know how he had done it but convincing the feline part of herself that it didn't belong had caused irrevocable damage. What had once been natural had become unnatural and she had spent months trying to regain her ability to shapeshift, forced to hone old senses that had been stripped away.

So long spent trying to trust her body again, yet old insecurities still managed to creep through sometimes; doubts that maybe he had been right and the animal in her was not a natural part of herself but an abomination.

Like any animal that sensed fear or apprehension, the tigress in her retreated when her trust in it wavered and Kushial was left alone and a little less whole.

But those moments were few and far between these days. She had rediscovered her natural enthusiasm for the hunt and the restlessness in her bones was more animal than human.

The fact that her instincts were calling again was also a good sign, but the terror that lay pitted in the bottom of her stomach was not. The tigress in her was afraid and Kushial knew that it had nothing to do with paranoia.

She shifted in Reed's arms, feeling his hands in her snowy hair, pulling pins out so it fell loose around her shoulders. He knew she liked to wear it free but she refrained from doing so when off-grounds. People stared when they saw a girl with long, curling hair the colour of icicles and sharp, black eyes gliding down the street with a fluid grace no human should possess.

Kushial didn't like attention and thought her beauty made her more freakish than attractive. But it was not something she was overly aware of, until others grew aware of it.

"I wouldn't let him, you know," Reed suddenly said. His voice was quiet but the intensity behind his words hung heavy in the air.

"Wouldn't what?" She turned and brushed his hair from his pale eyes, dragging her fingers through it because she knew he liked it. He half-smiled and closed his eyes.

"I wouldn't let him take you."

It was said in such a matter-of-fact tone that Kushial merely accepted it. If Reed said he wouldn't let him take her, then he would do everything in his power to make it so.

But she heard the loss in his voice nonetheless and knew what he had neglected to say.

Kushial had never met Abigail Hart, but she saw the girl through Reed's eyes. A mortal, with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes, round, pixie-like cheeks and a contagious smile; looped earrings in her ears and bangles spiralling her wrists like twisted rainbows.

Reed had called her his walking kaleidoscope. She was prim and proper, with a short fuse and a stubborn streak to rival his own, and a vocabulary as colourful as her wardrobe. Abby and Reed's friendship had been explosive but unshakeable.

She'd had that spark that some mortals were privileged to have. It drew Supernaturals in, people like Reed. It had led to Abby falling in love with a witch who had passed on to her his magics; a farewell gift made in good-will but a curse that had driven the hippy-girl mad.

Untrained and afraid, Abby hadn’t known how to let the magic out.

Her parents had panicked, dragging her away from her home, from Reed. He had been helpless and he hadn't seen her since.

But sometimes Reed woke screaming from nightmares about a dark, secluded hospital and a blank-eyed Abby, no longer vibrant with colour but dull and still and silent.

Settling against her best friend, Kushial closed her eyes against the glow of the sunset and prayed her fate would not be so cruel.

---

She opened her eyes to darkness.

Scrambling to sit up in bed she called out for Reed, alone and afraid.

He didn’t answer.

Had she fallen asleep? Had Reed carried her to her room?

Had to have done, she thought, and took a deep breath. She slid a hand across her face and rubbed at her eyes.

She slid from her bed and padded across the floor. It was cold and hard and didn't she have a carpet in her room? A plush, cream carpet that glowed even in the dark? And there should have been a bay window to the left of her bed, pouring in heavy moonlight to light her way.

But there was no cream glow and there was no window. There was only pitch black darkness and a solid grey outline in front of her that told her she was near the door.

She sprinted for it, sweaty palms grappling for the door handle, and stopped short.

Not my door, she thought, staring wide-eyed. Not my door.

Her door didn't have a small square window looking out on to a dark corridor. Her door was thick, polished wood, not heavy, cool metal. Her door--

She finally grasped the handle and wrenching downward.

Nothing happened. She pulled again and heard the faint sound of locks protesting.

Notmydoornotmydoornotmydoor...

Panic set in and Kushial froze. Her hands slid from the handle and she stared blankly ahead, chest heaving.

Notmydoornotmydoornotmydoor...

Then, suddenly, her eyes registered something in the gloom of the corridor. She leaned forward, hands slapped against the glass pane, and watched.

Electric blue eyes flashed across her vision.

Kushial screamed.