The naming part 1 (continued)

"I'm tired of this game Magnus let's go to the practice yard and have a real life battle" Gavin said.

"How can it be 'real life' when the swords made of blunt wood?" asked Magnus.

"Your way too literal little brother and it's more real life than this Risk game. Puhhlleaassee if I have to sit in this library one more second I'll turn moldy and die of boredome".

"I'm not bored I happen to like boardgames and you're just mad because your losing and that new girl Page is in the practice yard".

Page's parents had sent her to board at the Watchtower in St. Louis Missouri for Praetor Guard training and her being the only non-related female in the barracks made for some very interesting times. One of those interesting developments was the renewed enthusiasm of the boys during weapons practice and hand to hand combat. It seemed they were all determined to outdo each other in front her and at the same time were all too afraid of hurting her. Resulting in quite a few loud jeers and some very bruised and battered male egos when they were whipped by her speed and agility. The fact that Gavin wanted to go the practice yard probably had more to do with his boundless energy and his boredom with the library than with Page but Magnus being the little brother that he was couldn't resist the jibe. Gavin sprung up from the overstuffed leather armchair and brandished his imaginary sword at Magnus and demanded satisfaction. Imelda and Androse smothered thier laughter and glanced at each other in perfect understanding. That was thier Gavin Otto always over the top dramatic. Magnus heaved a deep theatrical sigh and then launched at his brother in a sneak attack. The boys rolled across the marble floors rough housing until Imelda, seeing a lamp teetering at the edge of an end table, called a firm halt to thier shenanigans. Androse decided the boys could use some time sweating in the practice ring and all of Imelda's boys trooped out of the library in good humor leaving her to her own research in the library.

Imelda opened the old tome up again and began flipping pages slowly looking for the ancient Welsh text that mentioned the first appearance of the Watchers in Europe. Engrossed as she was in her study she failed to hear the library door open or to feel the prick of the poisoned dart in her arm until it was too late. As she sunk beneath the waves of the psychotropic drug she caught a fleeting glimpse of her attacker and had time to gasp once before the blackness reached up and sucked her under.