There wasn't much of anything transpiring in and around the Greater Houston Area. Since Red's death, things had gotten suspiciously quiet. Several teams were sent out to roust the local fairy community. While the teams weren't received with open arms, they weren't attacked either. It all sounded too planned to me.

Abe waited for me to get caught up and helped himself to another beer. He knew there wasn't anything to see, and he also knew that I had other business that needed taking care of at HQ. After filling an overnight bag with some essentials, I locked everything down and walked with him to the elevator where we returned to S-4 and met up with the tour at the trophy room.

"I thought Kennedy died in '63," said Dad as we walked into the room.

Liz shook her head. "That was actually Jackie that got shot. They swapped bodies the night before and..." She shook her head. "It's a really long story, that I'm sure Red would love to tell you."

I smiled knowingly. Liz hated doing the tour thing; I have no idea how Abe talked her into it. "I'm going by Gemma now."

"Right, fine, whatever." She looked at Abe hopefully, expectantly. "We ready to do this thing?"

Nobody was talking about it for a reason.

"What thing?" asked Mom.

I looked at her. "The whole reason behind everything that's been happening the last few days. Come on and enjoy the show."

Mom grabbed my hand and laced her fingers through mine. The others were a few steps ahead of us when she leaned in and whispered. "Is that beer on your breath?"

"It was only one, and I only drank half," I said with a small measure of guilt.

She breathed evenly for a couple of seconds before continuing. "I've already lost one daughter because I wasn't willing to be a nag. I'm not going to make it two."

I stopped and stared at her. There was a part of me that wanted to defend myself, saying that I was actually thirty-four and could make my own decisions about my life, but I could see the pain in her eyes. "Okay."

Mom blinked at my backing down. "Really?"

With a nod, I assented. "No more beer. May I have the occasional glass of wine, maybe after a particularly grueling mission?"

She thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "At home, with me or your dad."

"Fair enough. Thank you."

I guessed she suspected something extra, because her eyes narrowed. "Do you have any other bad habits I need to be aware of?"

I swallowed and cringed. "Cubans."

She gasped. "Cigars? Absolutely not."

Damn. "Yes, ma'am."

She shot the can I trust you look at me.

"Hey Abe."

He stopped and looked back. I motioned for him and when he returned he looked at me and Mom.

"After I leave, can you go into my room and remove the beer and..." I swallowed again. "The Cubans."

His eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

I looked at Mom and nodded. "I promised Mom."

He whistled low and long. "Can I have the Cohiba's?"

My mouth twisted just a little with resentment. "Sure."

Abe almost skipped ahead of us with delight. Mom looked on with confusion until I explained. " Cohiba Silgo VI's run about five hundred and fifty dollars for a box of twenty-five. I've got about a hundred and fifty left from when we saved Fidel's butt from a rampaging mountain troll. They were a gift."

"That must have hurt."

I shook my head slightly. "You have no idea."

A second later I was engulfed in a hug. My hands came up a few seconds after and returned the gesture.

"I know you could argue with me. I also know you are a lot older than you appear, Gemma. Thank you for being a good daughter."

There. That was it; the whole reason I made the decision to stay with them. I'd never really been mothered. Relaxing into her embrace and sighing with a modicum of contentment was worth the loss of the beer -- maybe not the Cubans so much. That would need several hugs to get over. I had the feeling that Mom wouldn't mind giving them out.

She still had a firm grip on my hand when we entered the room I had been dreading since the previous night. We completed a semi-circle that Abe, Liz and Dad had started, with all of them looking at the thing sitting horizontally on a pair of tripod stands. It looked like a gigantic four fingered hand -- well, three fingers and a thumb, if you want to get technical. Oh, and it was red.

"Any idea what it's made of?" I asked.

Abe shook his head. "Nobody's been able to chip away a sample to analyze."

Dad offered his insight. "I looks like it's been carved out of solid rock. What's it called again?"

"The Right Hand of Doom," answered Liz.

Mom squeezed my hand. "That sounds kind of ominous."

"Yeah, that's what I said." Nobody spoke for a half a minute until I broke the silence. "What exactly is this thing supposed to do?"

Abe crossed his arms in what I remembered was his lecture pose. "The vast majority of the Thirteen Artifacts exhibit a symbiotic relationship with the host." At the tentative look on my face, he clarified. "It doesn't feed off of the host. It kind of urges them in certain directions to further its goal or the reason for its existence. In return it provides protection and in some cases mystical powers, weapons, etcetera."

I gave the hand a wary eye. "And you want me to put it on?"

He shrugged. "It's not a matter of want. It's a matter of prophecy and what happens if you don't."

Dad got into the game. "Prophecy?"

Seeing the academic gleam in Abe's eye shot a warning through my head, so I cut him off at the pass. "Short version: If the Thirteen Artifacts are held by one person then, Apocalypse. The prophecy says if I don't carry the Hand then someone else will get it and that'll happen."

Dad's mouth tensed up. "So you have to carry it then."

I nodded. Steeling myself, I sighed. "You guys want to wait outside in case this thing doesn't do what you think it will?"

Mom's grip tightened. "I'll stay."

Giving her a warm smile in thanks, I shook my head. "I want you safe. This is my job. You can watch through the glass."

Reluctantly, she went with Dad and Abe. Liz stuck around for a moment. "Gook luck. Try not to die or anything this time."

She didn't mean anything by it. Playful banter and grim humor was all an intricate dance we always performed.

"Bite me."

Once I was alone, sort of -- they were all standing in front of an observation window -- I gave then a encouraging smile and turned to face the Right Hand of Doom. Judging by the size of the thing, the forearm portion of the stone would almost reach my elbow. It had a handy-dandy hole located on the flat end just big enough for a short seventeen year old, blonde, heroin addict's hand to slip through.

I set my bag by the door and unwound the rosary from my belt and said a single Hail Mary and a single Our Father before settling it around my neck. Without any further fanfare, I walked up to the Hand and jammed my arm inside as far as it would go.

A tingle ran the length of my hand, traveling up my arm and across my body. It didn't hurt, only feeling like I was standing outside while it was misting, while naked. Then the Hand shrunk, folding in on itself until I could see only my skin and a very intricate bracelet encircling my wrist with a bright red gem the size of a silver dollar as its centerpiece on top. The red band that served as the setting had tiny script all along the outside. From careful observation, I could tell it was all one piece. There were no hinges or openings that might indicate how to take it off, which led me to believe that I'd be wearing it for some time to come.

"Gemma?" It was Abe's voice sounding through the intercom.

I turned around and saw everyone standing there, expecting something to happen. I shrugged. "I think it's done."

Since the anticlimactic scene was over, I eventually talked Mom and Dad into going home while I caught up on my daily duties. Abe confiscated the beers in my room but didn't have an idea of what to do about the Cohiba's since I had the only humidor large enough to keep them all fresh and it was built into its own room. The bastard did swipe one of the boxes for himself though.

They took pictures of the inscriptions for someone to try their hand at a translation. They needed all the luck they could get with that one. Everything we'd come across concerning the Artifacts were written in a seriously dead language that nobody recognized and without some sort of Rosetta Stone to work with it was pretty much a useless task.

I spent the afternoon on the firing range trying to get used to the .45. My aim was for shit... still. When I was a guy, I was never any good with range weapons of any sort. I could hit the target if I concentrated and went thorough the motions properly, but where it actually hit on that target was anyone's guess, and never the same place twice.

"God, you suck."

Popping the clip out, I set the pistol on the counter in front of me and collected the empty clips for reloading.

"Did you need something, Lez?" I said while turning around.

She was leaned over on the counter lining the back wall, looking like she really didn't want to be there. "Abe said you wouldn't talk to him about..." She gestured at me. "Your thing."

I rolled my eyes and set the clips on the counter, sliding over a box of ammo so she could help me. "Sorry you got roped into the caring sister routine."

Liz sighed and started feeding rounds into a clip. "Is there anything you need to know?"

For a second, I actually thought she cared. I eyed her and then shook my head. "Mom's there for the care and feeding of a teenage girl instructions."

She stopped and spread her hands, looking stupefied. "What is that about, anyway? Mom, Dad? Since when did you adopt a family?"

I shrugged. "Sort of fell into it. They were there when I needed them and didn't have a clue what was going on, and they have issues they need to deal with. Gemma Saunders wasn't little Mary Sunshine, if you get my drift."

Liz cocked her head to the side ruefully. "You're not kidding there. I pulled her jacket when we were checking you out."

That kind of surprised me. Mom didn't mention anything about her being a criminal. "What?"

Liz nodded. "No priors, but she's been under surveillance by HPD and the DEA. She ran with some seriously messed up people. Never got caught though."

I sighed. This was something that I couldn't tell Mom or Dad. It would crush them. But I could do something about it. "Can you send that file to my computer?"

Working on her third clip, Liz looked up at me with a bit of wariness in her eyes. "I know that look; even if you aren't yourself anymore."

I smiled somewhat evilly. "Want to go make some noise tonight?"

"Red," she groaned.

"Gemma."

"Whatever."

"I owe it to her parents, Liz. And maybe I owe it to her a little too."

She pushed the full clips back to me. "It's not our jurisdiction."

I shrugged. "Maybe it is? How else do you explain what happened to me. Maybe it's demonic worshipping heroin pushers. Maybe they've been cutting their drugs with fairy dust..."

I stopped and blinked. Liz's eyes widened. "Oh hell," she muttered.

"Aww crap."

"There's a lot of history here. Try to keep up," I said.

The SAC of the DEA's team that's been running surveillance of Gemma and the doinks she's been hanging out with was sitting in our strategy room supremely pissed off about a seventeen year old H-addict he's been keeping tabs on for the last six months actually works for the BPRD.

"Ever heard of Changelings? I'm not talking about shapeshifters. I'm talking about fairies that slip into kids rooms at night and swap them with one of their own."

"No." Obviously he was a man of few words.

He had on a black DEA windbreaker with a crisp white shirt and black tie underneath. His fingers were laced together and sitting atop the boardroom table. Little tinges of red and white -- See definition: skin discoloration due to applied pressure -- were alternating around his knuckles that let me know he was barely holding himself back from a string of obscenities.

"Good, it saves me from arguing the false information most people think they know."

I nodded at Abe and he lowered the lights a little and lit up the presentation screen at the end of the table. A peaceful night scene with a cute little tyke all snug in his bed and a open window to the side. It would have been just fine if a creepy green skinned demon looking thing wasn't sneaking inside at the time.

"Fairies have the ability, not to swap the bodies of kids with their fairy twins, like legend has it, but to eat the souls of the kids and then take over their bodies. They accomplish this with the use of Fairy Dust."

The SAC leaned back, confused. "You mean like Tinkerbelle?"

I looked at Liz. "Did I say anything about Pixies?" Re-centering on the SAC, I said, "Tinkerbelle is a pixie, not a fairy. Two totally different things."

"Right." He rubbed his eyes, looking like he was getting a headache. "So, fairy dust. I'm guessing that's not good."

"Good guess."

Abe went to the next picture, which was one of a forest fairy snorting a line of brown powder. "For most of the fairy population, it's kind of like a drug, nothing hard core. Think of having a drink at the end of the night to take the edge off -- about that strong."

The picture changed again to show a sewer fairy sprinkling the same dust over a sleeping preteen.

"Sewer Fairies use it to weaken the hold the soul has on humans." The lights came up a second later. "Now you have to ask yourself: what would happen if these same fairies were to supply this to drug dealers to use as a cutting agent. It works all and good, sprinkling it over a sleeping kid, but if that same kid injects it into his blood?"

I left it hanging there for a few seconds.

"We noticed a rise in activity of the sewer fairies over the last six months or so, and they've recently made a play for an object of power to cement their hold on the city. Agent Sherman and I think they are about to try a stranglehold, supplanting a large amount of humans with their own kind, all at once. That's why we need to move on them now."

The SAC looked at me like I'd just made the whole thing up. "Where's your evidence?"

I thumbed toward myself. "Me."

Another picture flashed across the screen. It wasn't very clear because the lights were up already, but there I was. "Alfred Broom, SAC of the BPRD. Dead in the line of duty by sewer fairies when they made a kidnapping attempt for that article of power I spoke of earlier. When his spirit was released it moved to this body, forcing her soul out and replacing it my own. That's one of the reasons I'm not a gibbering idiot looking for her next fix."

Pulling up my sleeves I showed the SAC there were no track marks. If he was as good in surveillance as the average DEA agent then he would have had pictures of Gemma shooting up at some time, most likely with the tainted heroin.

"The process cleanses the body of any recent injuries, infections, whatever."

He frowned, but didn't have enough reason to disprove our theory. We received a lot of leeway in regards for reasonable suspicion. It was the nature of the business. A lot of things didn't make logical sense, but were true nonetheless.

"We just need to know where they are mixing their shipments at," I said.

My hands were shaking and I felt the urge to suit up and jump in one of the SUV's going on the takedown. However, I wasn't up to the task. Since the so-called Right Hand of Doom was little more than costume jewelry at the moment, breaking my own self-assessment of my readiness wasn't warranted. I couldn't justify entering the upcoming battle, but I did insist on going along as backup and as an observer.

My old duster was about ten sizes too big for me. I preferred it over a regular coat because of all the pockets. A paranormal investigator had to be prepared for any eventuality. That means carrying a lot of crap around with you. You never knew when a pound of salt sprinkled in a protection circle would be all that stood between you and a screaming banshee... well that and the earplugs.

I did find a replacement. It wasn't black, which sucked. Instead it was camel colored with a heavy mantle. As all BPRD uniforms, it was saturated with protections against evil and threaded with lightweight Kevlar. We kept the local Catholic church busy -- with the blessings, not the sewing.

Swapping out my street boots for ones that actually worked, were made for chasing down dark things running through sewers, and reinforced enough so that a kick to the face actually meant something, I felt almost human again.

Our main transport was a makeshift garbage truck. The general public didn't know about the after hours freakiness and we'd hoped to keep it that way. It had never been in service and we loaded it up with the latest goodies. That's where we were sitting, waiting, and observing, an old rice drying facility that was supposed to have been shut down a decade past.

"Infrared shows eleven bodies at seventy-four degrees Fahrenheit."

I smiled grimly. "Sewer fairies."

Abe turned around and pointed at the blueprint layout. "We've got four exits in this area. We'll be spread pretty thin. Gemma, are you up for covering the main exit on the south side so they can't bolt that way?"

I nodded. "No problem."

Any rookie could have done the same thing. My job consisted of firing off a few rounds in the general vicinity of the door if it happened to open, forcing whoever was back inside to find a different exit. Even with my bad aim, I could literally hit the broadside of a rice drier, and if I happen to actually hit a fairy in the process, well then, so much the better.

The tech guru on the trip handed me a sub-vocalizer which I strapped around my neck, and a ear bud in my left ear would let me hear what was going on inside.

While Abe was giving everyone else their assignments, I tuned him out for something funky happening with my new jewelry. It seemed to be humming, but with a sound that only I could hear. I took a look at the smooth red jewel and I couldn't tell if it was sparkling or if it was simply reflected light from one of the many monitors.

"Everyone activate your beacons," said Abe.

I reached down to my belt and depressed the device.

Abe double checked the monitor. "And were all active. Okay guys, let's hit it."

A low pitched whine sounded while the back end opened up and spat out seven standard BPRD assault members in military night ops uniforms, and then Liz and Abe followed them. I brought up the rear since my position was closer. Taking out my .45, I pulled back the slide and introduced a cartridge into the chamber, checked to make sure the safety was still on, and holstered it again.

The ammo of choice was basic lead. Cold iron was the ideal for fairies, but it doesn't really transition well as ammunition. We had some sweet weapons at headquarters that had a high tech delivery system for special ammo, like holy water, silver shavings, explosive rounds, and so forth. But the thing only held four rounds and could blow a very large hole in just about anything it encountered, including cinder-block and most metal doors. I'd never be able to handle the recoil with my diminutive body. I could barely do it with my old one.

Two minutes went by and I received the two click signal that everyone was in position and ready for the word. My place was ten feet away from the double front door that you could find at any storefront. It was made of safety glass, but that wouldn't stop a .45 from penetrating.

My bracelet started humming again and I felt more focused than I had been in weeks -- from what I could remember anyway.

Two more clicks sounded and the raid was on.

I pulled the .45 out and fingered off the safety. From my vantage point, about forty feet away from the front doors, I braced my arm on an empty recycling dumpster and took aim. The wait wasn't for long.

Two figures blurred behind the tinted glass. When the door opened and I saw they were fairies, I let loose with four rounds. One of them hit the lead fairy and the other back-peddled and fell down inside the entranceway.

"Red has one down and another holding back." I said for the benefit of the observer in the truck that was recoding the raid. Red wasn't just my real name, it was my codename in the field as well. Abe was Blue, and Liz was Orange.

"Copy, Red."

I heard shots in the distance, muffled by the layers of walls within the building.

Over the ear bud, I heard Abe yell. "Pull back. They're coming from the floor. Dammit!"

I lurched forward and then stopped myself. I'd only make things worse.

"Abort! Abort!"

I didn't know who was yelling that, but it should have been Abe. I keyed in. "Orange, status."

A woosh of flame exploded out of the west side windows and then reeled itself back in.

"Red! It's a trap. I'm nuking the place"

I dropped the half empty clip and loaded one fresh by the time I was halfway to the door.

Abandoning the cover of the dumpster, I ran toward the front doors.

I raised the .45 to pop a round of lead into the fairy that pulled back earlier. As soon as I his the window that exploded, I hopped over the mess of glass and felt a warm surge of something coming from the bracelet.

The Hand was reappearing and with it, a whole lot more. The sleeve of my jacket ripped apart to accommodate the massive size of the forearm portion. Fury ran through me at the thought of Abe and Liz being taken as I was only days earlier, and I wasn't going to let the same outcome happen this time around.

The first door I came to was locked, which explained why the second fairy stayed put in the lobby. It was solid metal and no matter what they show on TV, you can't just shoot at the lock once and it magically open. All shooting at a doorknob accomplishes is breaking the knob and permanently trapping you on the wrong side.

I reared back and kicked at the door. It didn't even shutter.

Looking at the Hand I yelled in frustration. "Do something!"

That may or may not have been a good idea.

The arm it was attached to washed a wave of something upward turning the skin red. Tendrils escaped from the fingers and shot to my legs and torso, not to mention my face. I tried stepping back, but that was a fruitless endeavor.

Tingling sensations rippled across my body, the main portion concentrating on my forehead and my ass. I heard fabric tear again and then I felt like nothing, and I mean nothing on the face to the Earth could hurt me.

Glancing upward I noticed two long horns had sprouted from my head.

"Aww crap."

"Red! Come in!" Liz was calling for me.

"Orange, the Hand has activated itself." I hoped.

Another whoosh of flame sounded behind the door. Looking at the massive stone hand I that was hanging on the end of my arm, I clenched it into a fist and was determined to see what it could do.

Pulling back I shot it forward with everything I had in me.

The door exploded off its hinges and launched itself across the room, taking out five or six fairies in the process.

"Hell yeah!"

It was the main portion of the drier's facilities. Charred walls and burning fairy bodies were flopping around. Liz had taken the majority of them out. The rest were being mopped up by Abe and his men while Liz leaned against the west side exit door, exhausted from her efforts.

One of the fairies that hadn't been caught in the wave of flame skidded to a stop in front of me and tried to backpedal away from my stone fist, but it wasn't exactly fast enough. I snapped it out and grabbed it by the neck, holding it while it squirmed and lashed at me with its clawed hands.

I smacked it a couple of times to the side of its head, with the pistol, just to get my point across and it went limp.

"Red?"

I looked up to see Abe standing about twenty feet away with a wild look in his eyes.

"Hey Blue, how's tricks?" He glanced at the Hand and back up at me. I shrugged. "I guess we know what it does now."

Abe leaned to the side and looked behind me. "Red, you got a tail there."

I craned my head around and looked at the four foot appendage, thick at the base and tapering until the end. It was swishing back and forth angrily.

"Huh."

TBC...