Leaving the twins' house far behind, Jarret decided to make his way back home on foot. He could have made the considerable journey by bus or taxi, as there was no shortage of either, but Jarret was never a fan of doing things the easy way. The fairly steep drop in temperature didn't really affect the snowkitten, since he rarely felt the cold, but nonetheless he hurried.

Before long he had reached the edge of the deserted market place, silent and haunting. The streets surrounding the area were lit by lines of warmly glowing yellow-orange lamps which illuminated the ancient cobbled pathways. By contrast (and not surprising considering it wasn't in use) the market was only lit by four spotlights, one in each corner, and the light from these barely reached the centre of the area. The shadows and the darkness suited Jarret just fine - he enjoyed flitting between the stalls, unseen and silent, even though there was nobody around to impress.

When he reached the steps at the far side of the market, which led to the riverside pathway, he stopped. He could sense the remnants of some very old magic that had been used here only hours earlier, and that puzzled him, since he couldn't quite suss what it was. It was only the slightest trace but it was definitely there. Jarret shrugged, springing rapidly up the stairs into the illuminated streets, deciding to use some of the back streets for shortcuts.

Thankfully even these old back streets were reasonably well lit, with the magically charged crystals in each old lamp giving an extremely convincing "gas lamp" effect. As Jarret headed along Peartree Lane, he noticed the very familiar sight of some old rusting enamel signs leaning against a wall, from shops that had long since closed. Those signs had been in the same place seemingly forever. Jarret could clearly remember seeing them lying here even from when he had been a small and very mischievous kitten.

He wound his way round the labyrinthine streets swiftly and instinctively. As he did so, Jarret contemplated one of the strangest Phoenixbrook myths, and one that he had never really believed in. Many times it had been said that one of the ways "Phoenixbrook protected itself and its snowkitten inhabitants" (which in itself seemed an odd phrase, as though the city were somehow 'alive') was to quite literally alter the layout of some of the back streets. If it were to be believed, streets would suddenly gain dead-ends or walls that simply didn't exist, or gaps would appear between two buildings that hadn't been there only hours before. The theory was that snowkittens, seemingly guided by instinct, knew exactly which route to take, and the altered layout wouldn't affect them, but would impede the pursuit of a confused enemy considerably.

Of course, Jarret was very cynical of the whole thing. He'd seen no convincing evidence to back the claims up, and nobody had ever actually seen it happen or recorded it. Accurate maps of the city existed on paper, online and on the information points, and nobody had ever reported that the streets were in different places or that passageways were blocked when they shouldn't have been. It also seemed odd to Jarret that nobody living in any of those streets had ever mentioned how, all of a sudden, the view from their windows had changed out of all recognition, however temporarily it may have been. And yet despite the logic against it all, the rumours persisted.

Jarret, lost in thought and wandering around those very back streets, barely noticed when a tall, thin wolf in dark clothing collided with his arm. The wolf muttered brief apologies and hurried on, while Jarret didn't even bother to reply, deciding he had better things to do.

It was somewhat ironic that while Jarret's mind had been firmly on the matter of the changing streets, he suddenly found himself at one of the many Phoenixbrook dead-ends. There in front of him was an old brick wall with several bins lying against it. He climbed up on one of the bins carefully, peering over the top of the wall, but could see nothing except pitch black. For whatever reason, the chain of street lamps had failed in the area that lay beyond the dead-end. He decided he didn't much fancy leaping over the wall into the unknown.

"Damn," he thought, "looks like there isn't any choice but to retrace my steps. What a waste of time that was. So much for the theory that snowkittens are guided round this city by some sort of magical instinct beamed mysteriously into our heads…"

He turned round and squinted. Some distance away at the entrance to the dead-end street, Jarret noticed two figures, too far away to resemble anything other than silhouettes. Ordinarily it would have been a matter of no consequence to the snowkitten, but there was something about the taller figure that was setting off alarm bells in his head, and he couldn't quite place why.

He walked back down the street, at a slower pace this time. The two figures began to approach, equally slowly, and by now instinct told Jarret there was definitely something menacing going on. These weren't just two people heading home. The suspicion was confirmed when the taller person called out the snowkitten's name, which echoed down the narrow street. Jarret stopped instantly, as did the two strangers, both now stood under a lamppost and easier to identify. One of the two was a short, muscular fox. The other was the wolf that Jarret dimly recalled bumping into not long ago.

It was the wolf, thirty metres away, who called out, "Jarret! How nice to see you again after all this time!"

Jarret's eyes narrowed. He asked a question that he really wasn't sure he wanted the answer to. "Do I know you?"

The fox stayed silent, just staring. The wolf looked mildly pained. "Oh, that really hurts." He suddenly looked inspired, and with wide, excited eyes, pointed at himself. "Oh of course, how stupid of me. It's the face, isn't it?"

As Jarret looked on, slightly bemused and with an increasing sense of deep concern, the wolf made a barely noticeable gesture, and what looked like a wash of purple and red light flowed over him from head to foot. Where the wolf had previously been standing, there was now a white and tan furred cat.

"Attra…" Jarret muttered grimly. He heard a very faint click as the fox aimed a mean looking gun in his direction, while Attra, one of the Elysia officers, put his hands in the pockets of his black denim coat.

The feline smiled, a feigned look of concern on his face. "Full marks, kid. Could be wrong, but you don't exactly look happy to see me."

"Strange, that," Jarret retorted.

"Hey, c'mon. It's been… what, five years? I had no idea - truthfully no idea at all - that we'd bump into each other tonight. And there must be so much to catch up on after all this time. You haven't aged a day!" Attra spoke the last sentence with strange enthusiasm.

Jarret frowned. "Likewise. It's amazing what you can do with stolen and corrupted snowkitten magic…"

Attra laughed - a blatantly false laugh that rattled Jarret's nerves. "That's a good one. Okay, enough of this crap." His expression darkened, aided and abetted by the shadows cast from the nearby light. "How's your friend, Tressington?"

Jarret didn't respond, just glaring back icily.

"Oh, that's right! He's dead. Silly me, I should have remembered. I was sent to Phoenixbrook to shut him up, after we tracked him here. Visiting family and friends apparently. We almost had him, till he ducked into a tatty old bookshop. I really couldn't say if he knew he was being followed at that point. He stayed in there for a very long time, probably knowing I wouldn't go barging in there. Still, we caught up with him not long after. A few photos were sent to one of your other contacts, who unwittingly assumed they were from a local news station, and then they were passed on to you. All in all, plenty of fun was had by all concerned!"

Jarret snarled and stepped forward. The fox at Attra's side aimed the gun more purposefully at the snowkitten's chest.

"Naughty, naughty!" Attra said, as though he were scolding a child.

Jarret glared again. "If he fires that thing at me, I'll make him eat it. C'mon, Attra, you know that pea shooter can't stop me."

Attra smiled politely. "Are you sure?" He made a subtle gesture and the fox pulled the trigger. A vivid white bolt of energy shot from the gun barrel, slamming into Jarret and flinging him several metres back down the street towards the wall. He lay there for a few brief moments, until a faint blue light glowed from his chest where the bolt had struck, sealing the wound in seconds. At the same time, Jarret let out an angry growl, and one of the two bins, seemingly thrown at immense speed by an invisible paw, hurtled down the street, slamming into the fox with considerable force.

Attra looked down casually at the unconscious creature, then back at Jarret and shrugged. "Fair enough. Guess I was wrong." Jarret leapt to his feet, using his powers to throw the other bin at Attra. The Elysia officer instantly held up a paw, catching the bin in a blue beam of light, and it burst into flames, whirling round and round like a giant fireball. Over the roar of the flames, Attra gloated, "I'm also here as a kind of warning, Jarret. I got into this country undetected. Nobody, not even you, knew I was here. Bear that in mind. We can come and go as we please. If I can do that so easily, think how simple it could have been for me to get into The Burrow…"

He was about to fling the fireball at Jarret when an energy bolt from the snowkitten smashed into his arm and knocked him to the floor. Jarret used another spell to catch the flaming object with a thin silver streak of light, slamming it down onto Attra as hard as possible. The bin exploded into a thousand fragments. Jarret, keeping his distance, wasn't too surprised to hear a mocking, "Ouch!" from Attra, who clambered back onto his feet as though nothing had happened.

The cat began to slowly advance towards the snowkitten. "Now come on, Jarret. You're not stupid. You know there isn't anything whatsoever you can do that would kill me. You know that better than most."

Jarret began to step backwards cautiously, suddenly wishing more than ever that the Phoenixbrook rumours were true, and that maybe the old brick wall behind him had mysteriously evaporated. No such luck - it still blocked his way. He snarled, "Arren and Ayla didn't look too healthy last time I saw them. 'Dead' was probably the best word used to describe them…"

Attra just grinned. "Arren always was the weakest link. Ayla… well, you were just lucky. But the rest of us… you failed."

As he advanced, Jarret flung several more energy bolts at him, one after the other. They either just glanced off the Elysia officer, or caused damage that healed instantly. Attra grinned again, and without warning, pounced, hurling himself at Jarret and flinging him to the cold, hard ground.

Further down the street, the fox who had been struck by the bin briefly regained consciousness, hearing the sound of punches, as Attra took full advantage of the fact Jarret had been knocked to the floor. Everything went muffled again as the fox passed out. Jarret, meantime, found himself hoisted up by Attra who gripped him by the neck, sneering, "I could kill you. If I wanted. But I'm under strict orders not to. Not yet." He tightened his grip, sending a sudden surge of electricity from his paw into a hissing Jarret, before hurling him back onto the ground. "Of course, that doesn't mean I can't have some fun in the meantime."

Jarret, lying face down, coughed and shook his head in an attempt to clear the fuzziness which filled his ears, and prevented him hearing whatever Attra was rambling on about. His vision blurred while his snowkitten powers rapidly repaired as much damage as possible.

His hearing returned in the middle of Attra's sentence. "…Kael, or Deladrio. Whatever the mincing little queen was called. With him, we had the advantage of surprise. With you, it'll take something a lot more special. But don't worry, you'll find out just what that is in due course."

Jarret was only half listening. He realised he was partly lying on an old piece of drainpipe. At the same time, he heard a scraping sound and guessed that Attra had found another part of the pipe, and was lifting it, ready to strike. Jarret waited till the last possible moment, and as the pipe was swung down, he grabbed the piece he had been lying on, swinging it up to parry the blow. The dull clang echoed down the street.

Jarret leapt to his feet, slightly unsteadily, swinging the pipe round, lower this time, to block Attra's attempts at knocking his feet from under him. He defended himself from several more strikes, then went on the defensive, swirling the pipe round in long, wide arcs, smashing into the pipe held by Attra over and over again. Jarret was in his element now. He had many, many years of training in the art of sword fighting, and while a drainpipe was a fairly poor alternative, it served its purpose well enough. Three more strikes, and then he swung the pipe round in a complex figure of eight, which forced the pipe from Attra's paw, and the piece of metal clattered on the cobbles. Attra reeled as the next few blows - hard enough to shatter any normal person's bones - struck home, driving him back towards the wall at the end of the street. One last hit and he crashed back against it. Jarret flung the pipe aside, while Attra struggled to stand, using the wall to prop himself up.

Jarret looked on grimly, telling him, "I already know what you're about to say, so I'll save you the time. 'We can't be stopped. Nothing you can do can ever kill us.' Maybe not, but as you said yourself, I can have a bit of fun in the meantime." The snowkitten swirled his paw round, making an invisible symbol with the outstretched fingers, and a rapidly expanding blue light began to form around his arm.

Attra snarled, suddenly rushing at Jarret headlong, but he had been expecting it. The snowkitten deliberately fell backwards, landing on his back and kicking upwards. His feet caught Attra in the chest, flinging him several metres back down the street, where he crashed ungracefully to the floor. It gave Jarret enough time to leap back up and turn to face his enemy, and without waiting he flung the huge ball of blue tinted energy in Attra's direction. The blast tore down the street, incinerating everything in its way.

Except - unsurprisingly, thought Jarret - for Attra. The Elysia officer staggered to his feet among the blue flames, his clothes and hair alight but somehow totally unharmed. An evil grin crossed his face, the shimmering heat and the flickering flames twisting it into something even more ominous.

"If that's the best you've got to throw at me," the burning figure sneered, "you're in serious trouble when we return. Shame I have to leave Aredria now. I'd love to have played a bit longer, but I'm sure there will be plenty of other chances." Attra suddenly flung his fist forward, sending an intense beam of light hurtling towards Jarret, who leapt instinctively out the way. When he looked back up, Attra had gone, leaving behind nothing but a few stray flames.

Jarret just stood there for a time, recovering and wondering just how he could face telling Ailee about what had been done and said, especially not with everything else that had been going on over the course of the day. He noticed with a certain irony, that the wall, which previously blocked his path, had completely gone. It was literally as though it never existed. "Well it's a bit bloody late now," Jarret thought.

He then remembered something else. Striding to the entrance of the street, he found the fox that had accompanied Attra, still lying there unconscious and looking somewhat worse for wear.

"Well," Jarret thought, "before I hand you over to the ACU, I'll be having a bit of fun with you. At least something good might turn up from all this…"