"You're so full of intrigues, yet you never stop to wonder why." (Excerpt from J. Kerrymans "Lost Dreams.")

Phoenixbrook was, perhaps arguably, a place with something for everyone. If you enjoyed the historical or cultural side of towns, there were more city walls, old buildings, museums, libraries and galleries than anyone could ever need. If shopping was more your style, the range of shops along the river and in the southern half of the town, combined with the vastness of the marketplace, could cater for everyone. There were modern designer shops, quaint little gift and antique shops, and just about everything in-between. Tucked away within the endless mazes of back streets were yet more unusual shops selling anything from second hand books to comics and even magical artefacts. The diversity seemed truly bewildering to many first-time visitors.

For those into such things there were plenty of pubs and several nightclubs. These ranged from the techno and synthpop of Catnips, near the train station, to the dark industrial synth-metal of The Burrow, in the southeast of the city.

The Burrow was part owned by Jarret, the fourth of Phoenixbrook's snowkittens, and this was where he was heading. It was approaching midnight and the snow continued to fall, having gathered enough speed to make it difficult seeing very far ahead. Jarret stopped briefly to gaze in the window of a mysterious shop called Pure Magick, crammed with artefacts discovered and imported by its lapine owner Loganberry. The shop was long since closed for the night, but its window display was softly illuminated by dimmed spotlights, which cast an almost tangible warmth out onto the white streets. Jarret stared at several of the intriguing items as he stopped for a brief rest, then shivered and continued on his way, tugging his thick leather coat around his muzzle. His green eyes flashed in annoyance as he searched the snow-covered ground for a hint as to where the pavement was. His coat billowed out behind him like a cloak.

Unlike most snowkittens, Jarret's fur was mostly a sleek jet black. The only light in this darkness came from his white muzzle, white paws and a gash of similarly coloured fur that ran down his neck towards his chest. A thick, dark brown tail flowed out from under his coat, which he kept just above the snow to prevent it dragging. If Andrina was hyperactive and silly, Jarret was the exact opposite. Sullen, insular and highly dangerous, he often kept his thoughts to himself, and somehow it seemed better that way for everyone.

Lining the streets ahead were several old-fashioned black iron lampposts, seemingly lit by gas. In fact they were powered by small magically charged crystals, which activated once the natural light dropped below a certain level. The lamps gave off a warm orange glow even while surrounded by snow, but this was lost on Jarret. A darkness seemed to follow him wherever he went. Few people would cross his path intentionally at the best of times. His current mood, made far worse by the snow and occasional biting wind, made him even less tolerant than usual. It was perhaps fortunate that the streets were deserted.

Despite the fact Jarret owned half the club, and seemed to have no liking for anyone or anything, he was happy enough for the club's visitors to stay and share his roof as long as they bought no trouble with them. However, a place like The Burrow just occasionally acted like a magnet for trouble.

Upstairs, another of the last six snowkittens in Phoenixbrook, Ailee, sprawled across a lush and very soft settee. She flicked randomly through a fashion magazine, but had been finding it hard to settle or concentrate this evening. Something just didn't seem quite right and she couldn't figure out why.

Ailee, of course, was the other owner of The Burrow. She was also Jarret's twin sister, one of very few people he actually cared about, or so it appeared. It had seemed unusual enough when the twins Eliki and Leana had been born but even more strange when two more twins had been born only a few months later, and within the same town. And yet, whereas Eliki's powers had suffered as a result of being a snowkitten twin, Ailee and Jarret had retained their full powers. Ailee, like Jarret, had unusual fur colouring too - almost a light brown toffee colour all over, and the same large, dark brown tail that Jarret had. The "dark snowkittens" as they were known, may have owned the nightclub but it was very rare for them to actually serve behind the bar. Ailee, perhaps more so than Jarret, had seemingly decided it was beneath her to do so. She was far less moody than Jarret, but no less secretive or dangerous.

With no warning, an alarm bell rang once. Two rings would have meant there was imminent trouble downstairs in the club, and three rings, in so many words, meant "too late." A single ring like this was more like a warning that something suspicious was going on and that potentially there could be a problem. In which case the presence of Ailee or Jarret was then very much appreciated downstairs by the bar staff just in case, though very often it turned out to be nothing. Ailee sighed, tossing the magazine aside and then padded almost silently across the landing and down the stairs into the bar.

The barmaid, a slightly overweight, extremely cute panda girl with vivid red hair, noticed Ailee had arrived and nodded in the direction of a small group of felines near the door. The girl was known only as Enigma, a name Ailee regarded as just a bit pretentious, but she handled the customers well and was popular enough to have made her the perfect candidate for the job.

Enigma waited until the three cats were looking away, then headed over to Ailee, who asked, "Okay, what's the damage?"

"Remember that lot who were in here last week when you weren't?"

Ailee smiled slightly. "Remind me again how I could possibly remember them when I wasn't in the club at the time?"

"Okay, the ones I told you about, who gave it the whole cliched load of crap about protection money and how this place was heading for a major accident soon. Well, that's them. They came back as they promised and this time they're refusing to leave till they've spoken to the managers."

"Well, Jarret isn't here yet," Ailee muttered, watching the three would-be troublemakers for a time. "They'll just have to make do with me. You never know, it might even be fun…"

She went round the bar, heading across to the trio. "Okay then, which of you three clowns wanted to speak to me?"

Two of the gang members had white and black patches of fur. The third, a grey furred cat with a scar running down his face across his left eye, gave a lopsided grin and looked her up and down.

Ailee narrowed her eyes. "And you can wipe that drool off your chin before you speak to me, scarface."

'Scarface' looked at the other two cats and grinned even more. "You want to try showing me a bit more respect, my dear. You see, me and my 'insurance company' are quite well known in other parts of this country. We have a very good reputation - as luck would have it, when we're around, 'accidents' always seem to drop to a minimum. This is a very interesting little place you have here, and it would be a real shame if it were, for instance, to burn down. Now we might, just might, be able to help out there…"

Ailee looked to the ceiling in mild irritation. "Which Mafia 'protection racket' handbook did you get that Grade A stinker of a cliché from? Still, I'll give you six out of ten for delivery."

The scarfaced cat gave her a feigned look somewhere between understanding and sympathy, then he nodded to the cat on the right, who opened his coat to reveal a shotgun aimed straight at Ailee.

"Now, pretty kitty, you and me are gonna go out to the back with my fellow associates, and we'll thrash out some sort of deal, okay?"

Ailee shook her head. "Idiot." A sudden blast of blue lightning shot from her paw to the shotgun. The cat clutching the gun instinctively yelled out, dropping the gun to the floor, and a tiny gesture from Ailee sent it skidding under a nearby table. The various visitors to the club immediately went silent and moved away from the small group, several nudging each other as if to say, "Here we go!" The scarfaced cat was about to lunge at Ailee, claws at the ready, till she held a paw high above her head summoning a fireball which floated just above the palm of her paw.

"Stay back or by the goddess I'll make sure the nightclub isn't the only thing in danger of being burned down. How dare you come in here and threaten me, you pathetic little man! Do you really think you're the only ones to try pulling a stunt like that? Do you think we'd be stupid enough to run a club like this without being more than capable of handling ourselves?"

The cat who had previously held the gun rubbed his wrist. "You'll regret that. We'll tear this place apart."

Ailee made the fireball vanish as the gang slunk towards the door. "Oh, spare me the text book taunts."

"You're not listening. We'll be back, darling, you can count on that. Us and a whole lot more like us, believe me."

A male voice spoke from behind them and they spun round. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Green eyes flashed in the darkness of the doorway. Jarret stepped forward, shaking the snow from his coat. "Gentlemen, you really shouldn't leave yet. Not when it's almost a blizzard out there."

As they shrunk back, to their surprise Jarret walked straight past them and picked up an abandoned glass of wine from the bar. Scarface looked over at the door, considering making a move for it, until it slammed shut and the bolts slid across, at Jarret's command. Jarret held the wineglass in one hand and turned back to face them.

"Looks like you've had a few angry words with my sister. You're very lucky she was in one of her better moods tonight." Ailee rolled her eyes, and Jarret grinned. "But you see, she is extremely patient and it takes quite a lot to make her strike out at someone. It may have been self defence in that case. But that means you must have been about to attack her or threaten her. And if that's the case then we have a bit of a…." He stopped, noticing one of the three cats glancing occasionally down towards one of the nearby tables. "What? Oh, I see…"

The shotgun that had slid out of view earlier suddenly slid out from under the table and across the floor, stopping in front of the scarfaced cat.

"Pick it up."

"W… what?"

Jarret snarled, "Pick the damn gun up, or I will."

The cat scooped up the shotgun in shaking paws, pointing it at Jarret's chest. Jarret laughed and drained the wine from the glass, still holding it in his paw. "What's your name?"

"…?" The cat looked into the dark depths of the snowkitten's eyes and froze. "Fennerton."

Jarret frowned. "Well, Fennerton, now you've got your little toy back, let's see if you've got the nerve to actually use it. But think about this first. An entire club full of people and yet not one of them has attempted to act the hero and step in. All of them and just three of you. And I'm standing here unarmed and even gave you back the weapon. I must be mad! Totally insane. Or maybe…" He raised the wineglass in front of them. "Maybe there's another reason…"

Jarret clenched his paw tightly around the wineglass and began to squeeze it, until cracks appeared all around it. Suddenly the glass gave way and it shattered, tiny fragments falling to the ground. Jarret squeezed tighter still at the larger chunks of glass in his paw, before finally shaking them from his palm along with several large drops of blood. The wound was clearly extremely deep and looked as if it was in desperate need of medical attention.

Not for long.

As they watched, Jarret's paw was suddenly, and very briefly, bathed in a light blue glow, the blood disappearing as the wound knitted shut. Within seconds it was as though it had never happened.

Whatever Fennerton had said at this point was irrelevant and unintelligible. As he lowered the gun, Jarret just shook his head. "Get out." The doors flew open again, letting in a flurry of snow. As Fennerton and his merry men left at great speed, Jarret yelled out after them, "Bring as many of your amateur friends as you like next time. We'll be waiting."

He headed towards the hall behind the bar, and Ailee followed, looking back at the wide-eyed faces of the club's visitors. "Show's over. Enigma, free drinks on the house. Take it or leave it. And someone shut that damn door!"

As Jarret hurled his coat into a corner of the hall, Ailee leaned against the staircase banister. "Was there any need to show off like that? They were going anyway before you turned up."

"And now they won't be back."

"Spoilsport. Still, that was bloody strange. We've had chancers in here before. Comes with the territory. But what the hell was all that about?"

Jarret headed upstairs, stopping to look back at his twin. "I'm shattered. I'm going to bed. If it'll make you happy, tomorrow morning I'll try to trace it back and see what I can find out, okay?"

Ailee nodded. "And I'd like to know just what they were really after. You didn't see the gangster crap they came out with. There was something seriously screwy going on, believe me. I don't believe that story about 'protection money' whatsoever."

Jarret didn't reply, continuing up the stairs silently, and Ailee called after him, "Suit yourself. I don't know how the heck you can just go to bed and sleep after what just happened. I've been on edge all night waiting for something bad to happen, and whatever it was, tonight was only the start. There's something bad heading this way, Jarret. Something really bad."

The bedroom door clicked shut. Ailee bowed her head, then tidied her twin's coat away and sat silently on the stairs. She watched the snow through the hall window, falling much slower now, and was lost in thought.