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"Shit shit shit shit shit," mumbled Victor and propelled himself down the straw roofing faster. Doriac did the same, but without the obscenity. Suddenly the older man's leg went through the roof and a moment later he was wreathed in flames. Angel tried to turn and get back to him to help but the straw parted and he fell two stories to the ground. "Ow."

"How do you get yourself into these messes?" Shaper demanded, half laughing.

"And you can bite me, Shaper," Angel said pleasantly, rubbing the small of his back. "It's not like I ask for them."

"The fires have stopped." The creature turned away looking at the house that stood beside the burned wreckage where the carpenter had been rebuilding, "And after par-boiling your crusty friend, the fire in the thatch let itself get put out by the fire department." He looked back at Victor. "So how does this fit into your theory. I know you have one."

"It fits fine, thanks."

"Are you going to tell me it?"

"Hell no, you know I never explain anything to you till after the fact. How are you going to learn anything if I explain what's going on every time we turn a corner."

"I hate you so much."

"I know." Victor stood up and put his jacket back on. "Have you seen Amy?"

"No."

"Do you know if she was in The Last Candle when it went up?"

"Can't say."

"As ever, Shaper, you're so useful." He settled his jacket and winced.

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, just going to be stiff for a bit." He moved to the door of the guest bungalow the Mayor had loaned them.

"Where are you going? Doing some recon?"

"Yep."

Shaper grabbed his jacket and rushed after Angel.

"Where do you think you're going?" demanded the black haired drifter.

"Doing... recon...?" Shaper suggested.

"No."

"Okay no." Shaper ducked his head and sat back down.

With a small smile, Victor lifted a clove to his lips and headed out into the town.

A dark patch in the night shadows; Victor sat staring in the windows of the small whitewashed cottage that Cayce and Finn shared. As Shaper had said, he had his basic theory, now he had to back fill it with facts. And one escaped him. He frowned. Cayce had, from his observation, trouble lighting one candle off another. But he was carefully taking the time to do so. He'd lit four and them moved about the room. Victor slipped off his perch and moved closer, under the window, so he could hear the herb-witch's voice.

"... into the pool of water Finn... it'll help you concentration."

There was a deep childlike sigh. "Don't like water."

"It won't hurt you Finn," came Cayce's smooth voice. "Just gaze into it, and empty your mind."

"Can't I use a candle?"

"The dish Finn...." Having directed Finn to his meditation, Cayce began to softly repeat something. Then he blew out the candle. As the last half-wisp of smoke drifted away from the wick - it ignited. Cayce nodded, still speaking softly. He extinguished the wick once more, this time with a damp sponge. And once again it ignited. Victor leaned forward, trying to hear what Cayce was saying, but couldn't quite manage to catch it. With a sigh, he decided that subtle was not going to work.

He knocked on the front door. From behind it he heard mumbles and grumbles, much like anyone who had a task interrupted. A few moments later however, Cayce answered the door.

"Who's hurt?" he asked brusquely before he saw was there.

"No one's hurt, as a rule, they all died. I thought of a few more questions that I wanted to ask."

"Finn is busy at the moment, but if you come back later..." Cayce started to say, but Victor by stepped him and came inside the house.

"Actually," the drifter said, hands loosely in his pockets, "these questions I wanted to ask you."

"Oh really."

Victor made a small circuit of the room, and paused by the doorway that led to where Finn was sitting. "For one, when - and how did you find out about Finn's abilities."

A flick of the eyelid. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"No, I'm sure you don't," Victor eased the door open, and saw Finn, kneeling on the floor, gazing into a bowl of water, surrounded by a rough circle of four pillar candles. On a nearby table, where Cayce had been standing, was another candle, along with a now shut plain leather book. "You probably have no idea about Finn's pyrotechnic abilities." He reached out and pinched out the flame. Finn's eyes flicked up and the wick burst back into flame. "And you wouldn't know if that had anything to do with the recent rash of fires in Chandler's Pass."

Cayce's face twisted into a deep frown.

"You are accusing me of doing this?"

No. I don't need to. Your face just confessed."

Another flash of deep emotion. "I don't believe you."

"I don't suppose you'd tell me why you did all this?" Victor said, leaning against the doorframe, with a small smile. Cayce's face hardened.

"No," Cayce snorted. "Why should I tell you?"

"Not even how?" Victor said, not betraying any shock at the fact that Cayce had, as such, actually confessed.

"Not a chance."

"Then I'll have to leave it to the magistrate."

"He'll never believe you over me."

"We'll just have to see." Victor took Cayce's arm and the herb-witch jerked away.

"I don't have to do anything you say, drifter... in fact..." he glanced at Finn, who still sat includes in the four points of candles. The candlelight glinted across is pale hair. "Finn - remove him." Finn looked up at Cayce, then at Angel, then slowly shook his head.

"What?" demanded the herb witch. "Fine, I can take care of this snippet myself." Moving his bulk with amazing speed, Cayce gave Victor a ringing blow to the side of his head.

Okay, I won't underestimate people again, Angel thought, blocking the second blow - this one weighted with a heavy mortar, with his forearm.

"I think you don't like me, Mr. Abot." Angel could see reason leave his eyes. Cayce's face twisted into a snarl.

The kick to his knees was unexpected, and Angel stumbled back a few paces, blocking Cayce's strong overhead blow with both hands, catching the herb-witch's wrist. He pivoted sharply, and flung large man into a bookshelf, which caused the sturdy structure to fragment, and send books flying across the room. Blood pouring down his face from what looked to be a broken nose, the herb witch flung himself at Victor again, who calmly sidestepped, sending his attacker stumbling across the room. Cayce came up with a vicious smile on his face, and a wicked looking knife in one hand. He feinted with that, then threw the pestle at Victor's head. It struck him just above the temple, sending him reeling backwards.

"Ahhh," Victor hissed. In that moment of distraction, again with that surprising speed, Cayce rushed forward, knife flashing towards Angel's neck. Angel ducked and sent Cayce sprawling again, but was not unmarked. the large herb witch leaned against the whitewashed wall, where the bookcase had fallen from. He clutched the knife and his eyes were wild.

"I'll see you in hell." Cayce spat.

"Save me a seat." Victor said, and fired.

Cayce jerked backward as the bullet impacted, and hit the wall with a thump. Slowly he began sliding down, smearing a trail of blood down the whitewashed surface. Finn watched it with dispassionate grey eyes, then looked at Victor equally calmly. Victor smiled at the boy, and Finn tipped his head to one side, expression not changing.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Finn."

"It's not any more horrible than burning," the boy observed, still lacking expression.

"No," Victor replied, mystified by the boy's lack of emotion.

"My mother burned."

"I know."

"What's to happen to me now?"

Victor sighed deeply, and put up his gun. "I suppose we'll have to find someone else for you to live with... and someone to train your abilities." He turned towards the door. "Let's go."

"I wouldn't worry." There was a touch of emotion in his voice, and somehow it sent chill's down Angel's back.

"Why...?"

"I think I will do quite fine on my own."

Victor turned and was hit with a wave of heat.

"I don't have to wait until he gives me the order," Finn purred, heat shimmering around him.

"What?"

"I think I was clear, Angel. I will live quite happily without his confining and domineering presence."

"God..." Victor whispered at the waves of heat poured over him. Finn smiled broadly. Angel really liked it better when Finn had no expression at all.

"I like watching things burn... I like to hear people scream..."

Swallowing, Victor looked the boy in the eyes, grey eyes to grey eyes, and saw nothing but the truth, and homicidal joy in the thin boy's face. Snap judgments were what the hunter was good at; Victor fired his gun, and the bullets stopped in midair, melting in front of the boy.

"Aw shit," muttered Victor holstering his gun and turning to run.

"Don't run, Angel - don't you want to help me?" Angel whipped back around, grey eyes wide and disgusted. He was afraid - sorely afraid, but that voice - the sweet innocent voice with such evil and destruction lambent in it. It was more than he could take.

"Come now, Angel, come help me," smiled the youth. Furnishings around him began to smoke. Victor realized that escape just wasn't an issue anymore. He gritted his teeth. On his list of ways to die, burning rated a full ten points on his "please GOD not that way" scale. Right after getting struck by lightning twenty three consecutive times. In one storm.

"If it's God's plan, it's not too good from my view," he muttered, then charged, tackling the small boy. His leather coat cracked and smoked before he got within ten feet of Finn. His hair began to smolder sooner than that. But when he got his arms around the boy, the heat seemed to disappear. Perhaps it was so intense his nerves were no longer registering it. Anyhow, he could almost not feel it. Almost, but not enough. The black leather of his coat was melting.

"What are you going to do, Angel?" mocked the child. Victor didn't answer, just kept whispering a prayer with cracked and blistering lips. He adjusted his hold and squashed eyes tight shut. There were two separate sounds - the cracking of the child's thin neck, then the sound of a sudden conflagration. Victor was thrown back, away from the spontaneous combustion, through the mud and daub wall of the cottage and into a stone wall nearly fifty feet away. His eyes flickered open, but only for a moment, his entire face covered in burns and blisters. "So much fire for so small a boy. God forgive us both." His grey eyes closed and there was darkness.

Victor carefully sat down on a rock. Half of his face was bandaged in aloe-soaked rags, as well as his hands and neck.

"You alright?"

Victor waved a hand at Shaper and almost nodded. Then he winced, and carefully opened his pocket. After removing the packet of cloves he grimaced at it and replaced it.

"Where are we going now?" Shaper asked, glad for the rest.

Victor gestured with his chin.

"Uphill. Of course," sighed the risen.

"Don't worry. We can't go uphill forever, Shaper."

"Sometimes I wonder."

Victor started to laugh and winced again. Burns healed slow, but they did heal, if he took proper care of them. He probably should have still been in bed. Amy had certainly thought so when he told her he was moving on. But she couldn't do anything as long as he moved in daylight, and summer was the best time to cross these mountains. And summer wouldn't last forever. He gave a deep sigh, and braced his hands on his knees, using that leverage to stand.

"Come on Shaper. Let's get going."

"God. Even half burned to death, you're incorrigible." Shaper clambered to his feet and groaned, coming to the road behind Victor.

"Just have things to do."