Kevin Ryan - Nightscape

Now she just wanted to protect Max, who had risked his entire existence to save an innocent girl who had been

shot in a diner, who had spent his whole life trying to protect Isabel. She had never quite believed that she deserved what he gave her freely.

Max was better than her, and stronger. Every time he healed someone, he gave them some part of his power. And every time he did it, it made him stronger. That paradox was the secret of Max's strength. Suddenly, she felt petty and selfish. She had complained and whined for too long about her desire for a normal life. Max had long ago put away those desires and concentrated on protecting her and Michael. And then the friends that had joined their circle.

"Vilandra, it's time…," Nicholas began.

"My name's not Vilandra, it's Isabel. And you hurt my brother, you son of a bitch," Isabel said, reaching out with her weakened powers. For a moment, she had more strength than she'd ever had, and she imagined what it must feel like for Max… to do something for someone else, to draw power from that effort.

But it was for just a moment. Nicholas recoiled, then recovered and saw the point of the collision of their energies begin to shift from the middle of the room… and toward her.

Max had fallen, then Liz had tried, then Michael. Nicholas was too strong, and it disgusted her to know that he had taken most of the strength he carried from her brother's healing touch. Isabel knew her own strength would fail in a moment and there would be no one left to pick up the fight.

Death would come again to this house. It seemed… unfair. Isabel thought of the Bentons, living, laughing, loving, and then dying here. Then there was a subtle shift

in the energy of the room again. Suddenly Isabel had the feeling that she and Nicholas weren't alone anymore. She had had the feeling before in this house, and she knew where it came from… she felt where it came from.

They were not alone. The house was still full of life. It had always been full, even in the dark days since a mother and children had succumbed to a terrible disease here, since a father had grieved here. They had all left something of themselves in this place.

Isabel felt her strength return, then grow. The tide of the battle was changing again, and Isabel knew she wasn't the one doing it. Someone understood what Nicholas was, and didn't want him in this house.

With a single burst, Isabel pushed with all of her will and there was an explosion of light that illuminated the room. Before it could dim, she could see Nicholas flying backward, across the room and through the great windows and the sheet of plastic that covered them.

Then it was silent, and the room was dim.

She felt exhausted and was tempted to just let herself fall to the floor, but she had to make sure…

Isabel stumbled to the open window and saw the place where Nicholas had landed on the ground. The overgrown grass was bent down, but he was gone. Then she saw his dark figure stagger across the field toward the garage and it disappeared.

She considered going after him, but Isabel knew she would not get far, so she just stood and waited. A few seconds later, headlights that illuminated the darkness and an SUV crashed through the gate its way out. The taillights faded as it headed down the road.

Nicholas was still alive, but she knew he wouldn't bother them again tonight, or anytime soon. Though she was sure they would see him again, she had the feeling that he would never return to this house. Had he felt the other presence in the room? Had he felt its judgment?

It was crazy to think it, but Isabel was certain chat it was true. She had had help in her fight against Nicholas, in her fight for the only family she had ever known. And that help had come from someone who knew something about loss and had seen enough of death.

Unable to stand anymore, Isabel felt herself drift down to the hospital bed nearby. Then she closed her eyes and slept.

Sometime later, someone came to get her. Strong arms picked her up off the bed and carried her to another bed. It might have been Max, or Michael, or Kyle. She wasn't sure, but it was someone who cared for her.

It was one of her family.

It was less than four hours until sunup, and more than once in that time, Liz was not sure that Max was going to make it. There were cuts and scrapes on his body, but they were superficial. His problems were deeper, impossible for her to see. He was hot, and she knew that was not good for him. Healing Nicholas… bringing that monster back from the brink of death… and then fighting him had cost Max a part of himself.

Isabel and Michael were depleted as well, but Liz saw that they would be all right. Isabel slept peacefully in the double bed next to Max's. Her color was good, and Liz did not think there was anything wrong with her that rest would not cure.

Michael was another story. He didn't have much strength, and he had a number of cuts and bruises, including a long and deep one on his back. Max would be able to take care of them easily, if he recovered. When he recovers, Liz thought. She couldn't help but think of the irony of the situation: The person best able to help someone in Max's

condition was Max, but he could not heal himself… at least not until he was awake, and himself again.

During the few remaining hours of night, Michael had insisted on sitting up and watching over Max and Isabel, which he did from a large, winged-back chair near the door. He's standing guard, Liz had realized. Maria sat on the floor, resting on Michael's leg. She was standing guard, too, Liz saw. Maria had thrown a blanket over Michael and had brought him food, which he refused, and water, which he took. Kyle had paced continually, never straying far from Isabel.

Liz tried to keep Max cool with cold compresses, and by the time the first rays of light shone through the window, his temperature was normal. He was still unconscious, but he would take small sips of water through his dry lips, and Liz started to relax. By the time the sun was up fully, Max's color was back to normal, and he seemed to be only sleeping.

When that happened, Michael finally fell asleep in the chair. They had tried to move him a number of times, but he had shaken them off. Finally, they left him in the chair. Then Maria climbed into the chair next to him and fell asleep there as well.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Liz," Kyle suggested. "He's going to be fine," he added, gesturing to Max.

Liz nodded and climbed under the blanket that now covered Max. Within-seconds she was asleep, and she didn't wake again until it was dark. By then, Isabel was up and she, Liz, and Maria managed to maneuver Michael into the other bed. A couple of hours later, Michael woke up.

Max slept through the night again. Liz fell asleep sometime later. In the morning, Liz felt something on her face. A soft touch. Her eyes opened and saw Max looking down on her, smiling. Then he kissed her. She gave in to the kiss, then broke away to examine him. He looked a little worn and still tired, but he was alive. Liz clutched him tightly and said a silent prayer of thanks.

"I'm okay, Liz. I'm okay," he said, then he kissed her again.

Maria's voice broke the moment. "Okay, break it up, no public displays in the creepy old mansion."

Liz smiled and looked at her friend. Maria was beaming. She was also dressed and clean. So were Isabel, Kyle, and Michael. And so was Max, for that matter. Both his and Michael's cuts were gone, and Liz assumed that Max had healed them. He really was better… almost himself, she could see.

"Come on, Parker," Maria said. "Chop, chop, we don't get out of here until you get yourself ready."

"Actually, I was thinking we could stay a while, at least another day," Isabel said.