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Part 3 of 6

We live in a world where emotions can lift people from their sorrows as easily as drown them within. They cause you to strive for something better or hold you back, wielding control both unmeasurable and unmistakable. But what if, for some, emotions held a tangible power, if they could use the emotions of the world for their own benefit? What is the chance that someone would abuse that gift?

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Chapter 7 - Confused

A body. A mind. Two vessels, both large enough to hold multiple selves. Intellectually something Ken understood even before his transformation, but over the last four weeks that knowledge changed from theoretical to practical. He now understood you could not throw memories, knowledge, and thoughts into a mind like tossing mementos in a box. Each belonged in a specific place so it could be properly accessed when needed to make decisions or perform actions. However, when two became one, a part of each may belong in the same place, which caused them to stack, only the top being accessible for immediate use. By default, the dominant personality took pride of place; however, such an arbitrary method often resulted in feelings of wrongness, where instinct lost its immediacy.

Despite understanding the need to become the best decoy possible, Ken struggled to cede any control to his Heatherness. Sure, accepting her muscle memory felt like the obvious choice, but sensory perceptions seemed too integral in defining the disappearing Kenneth Cabot to give up. Yet some experiences left him with no choice, when his first cup of post-transformation coffee left him with a burnt tongue and a horrible taste in his mouth he took her appetite. And forsook many long held comforts.

The first morning, after awakening in his host's spare room, he struggled not with a pleasure lost, but one uncomfortably gained. Growing physical attraction to Brennus, which he found different than mental attraction.

At the latter, Ken considered himself an old hand. Ilina representing the latest in a long string of beautiful women who triggered pubescent fantasies. Even now, he grew distracted when he thought about her.

However, she did not feel the same for him. Just like his prior infatuations, most of whom never knew he existed. This could not be said for Brennus. With a thing for damsels in distress, even those newly minted, a day with the man left Ken vibrating with enough magical energy to overflowe his foci, the jewelry in his ears and about his neck now replacing credit cards.

Yet reciprocation did not encompass the entire difference? Just as Ilina dwelt in the upper stratospheres of female attractiveness, he realized Brennus occupied a similar spot on the male scale. Women would find him attractive. So while unready to blame the female hormones now coursing through his body, Ken realized they would support the attraction as normal. Combine this with the addictive rush of admiration, plus Ilina's parting shot, and his reaction during the prior day’s training made sense.

After their run, Brennus focused on palm strikes, worried a punch hard enough to hurt an opponent would break Ken’s hand. Initial attempts showed both Heather and Ken’s fighting inexperience, so Brennus physically guided his student through numerous attempts.

More attempts than someone with dancer’s coordination should need, but the brains of the two combined to make a hash out of things. Brennus, unused to training with women, particularly ones who he both wanted to protect and bed, worried about appearing the brute and forsook the firmness he would use when training with his brethren. In turn, dressed like a octagon girl at an MMA event, Ken felt every unintended caress, which triggered his fight or flight instincts.

Always Ken’s go to move, flight won, but not in the traditional sense. Like with taste, he abdicated control of the sensory receptors in his skin to Heather. Desire for flight disappeared, but happy distraction from the man’s touch took over, further delaying a breakthrough in Ken’s form.

This breakthrough signaled a change.

From that point until lunch, supplied from the cooler, and then until Brennus called a stop for the day, the only thing to push training from the front of their minds were a few cart rides to the bunker and its sterile bathrooms. Each time he grew slightly comfortable with the strike, Brennus introduced a new body part into the equation; feet spread, back heel lifting, knees slightly bent, hips turning, torso rotating, both shoulders and arms relaxed.

Exhausted by the day, Ken gratefully climbed into a golf cart. A longer drive took them to a modern three story apartment building almost invisible behind a stand of trees to the West. There Brennus parked his golf cart amongst an assortment of vehicles, ranging from scooters to four, what her host described as, Merkava Mark IV tanks. Taking the duffel bag in one hand and the arm of a drooping Ken in the other, he led them up two flights of stairs and to the end of the hall, where they entered a luxurious apartment.

“Living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, my bedroom.” Brennus said, pointing to different locations, before turning into a short hallway on the left. Opening its single door, he walked in and tossed the duffel on a king sized bed, complete with the pillows and comforter straight from a hotel. “Closet right there and your bathroom is through that door.”

“Okay.”

“Now I just have time to share a quick meal with you before I try to get some sleep. I’m assigned to the midnight watch, which means we won’t start tomorrow until at least nine.”

In the kitchen, while Brennus made sandwiches from ingredients most artisanal producers only dreamed of emulating, Ken asked, “Are you worried about attack?”

“Not really, but as shown by our entranceway display, we are not adverse to paranoia. Besides, it’s good practice for when we’re out on missions. Let’s see, anything I need to tell you? Oh yeah, just throw your clothes in the hamper in the bathroom, we have a laundry service. If you have any questions while I’m gone, use the phones in your bedroom and dial zero, which will reach the watch, me, and I will answer or patch you through to the outside if you wish to talk to someone.”

With this advice, Brennus finished his sandwich and left for his room. Alone, for the first time since before his father showed up at his lab, Ken enjoyed the silence as he finished his meal.

However, his abused muscles, ones slightly different than those used for dancing, grew stiff and he hobbled to the guest bedroom and its en suite bathroom. There he found an upright shower and a jacuzzi tub. Using the first to wash away the day’s sweat, he settled in the latter for a long soak. A heat induced lassitude chased away all thoughts about the insanity of his life, allowing him to drift in place, barely awake. Only the cooling water energized him enough to get out, dry his hair, and perform Heather’s night time routine. Around 9:30 PM on the alarm clock, 8:30 on his watch set in Karlovy Vary, he snuggled into bed and fell asleep.

An excellent sleep; deep, relaxing, and recuperative. However, such a sleep can only last so long and when complete there is no need to continue. By six o’clock Ken knew he would get no more sleep. Wide awake, thoughts rushed into his head. The excitement felt from Brennus’s touch the noisiest of all.

Better than the recent morning fare, thoughts of serving as bait for a serial killer

The truth, Ken one-upped The Tragically Hip song, being over forty-four years old and never having kissed a girl. Not for want of hoping, but lack of confidence when it seemed okay to kiss girls who appeared his age and lack of prospects ever since kept him unfulfilled. And while Brennus could not end that streak, he definitely was not a girl, would it be so bad to learn if the truth could match a few of Heather's memories?

Over the next hours he alternated answers for that question with yes, no, and maybe. In the end he decided he thought too much and settled on the last option. No need for him to decide right now. Nor should he expect Brennus to make the choice for him, as Ilina said, she felt perfectly safe with him.

And in leaving the capris and tank top in the duffel, instead choosing gear similar to the day before, this time in red, Ken did not close off any options.

His smile maybe a bit smilier than the day before, Brennus cooked a breakfast of sausage, potatoes, and eggs, while Ken prepared sandwiches and cut up vegetables for lunch.

“Anybody invade last night during your watch?” Ken asked.

“A herd of mammoth, which I fended off with well placed palm strikes. Maybe a couple more sandwiches and another bag of carrots.”

“Okay.”

“There’s a backpack cooler in the front closet, ice packs in the freezer, and drinks in the fridge. And don’t forget the thermos of coffee, I will need it.”

By the time Ken finished packing lunch, two full plates of breakfast sat on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Amused by how much more he ate since becoming female, probably because of his insane amount of exercise, he dug in while Brennus hoovered down his plate and two cups of coffee. Immortality minimizing the lessons of manners compared to those that named breakfast as the most important meal of the day.

With Brennus shouldering the backpack, they left the apartment, not locking the door, then the building. As he stretched, preparing for another run, Ken followed along and said, “It’s quiet.”

“Only six of us are in residence at any time. And we keep different hours, usually synced to the part of the world we call home when not here. Other than that, there are the constructs, mostly created by the prior owner, who keep things running in tip top shape.”

“Constructs kind of creep me out?”

“Most of us as well, but usually they only appear when nobody is around, keeping everything pristine. Let’s go.”

“Can’t we take the golf cart?”

“It’s not far,” Brennus said, starting off towards the South at an easy pace. “Besides it seems cruel to kill them off because they make us uncomfortable. They’ve existed here longer than us and as shown by our own continued existence, when Pythia cast a spell, she made it to last.”

“The Oracle of Delphi?” Ken asked, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of their curse, which dwarfed even his own.

“Who created this world? Or who cursed us? Both, as you’ve probably guessed. Being an Oracle offered a perfect disguise, in a time of myth and imagination, for a powerful magic user. It allowed her to engender awe, respect, and worship, all the while providing opportunity for transformation while speaking with the same voice. However, we did not know this, when our territories grew too small for our people all we saw was the Greek dragon dying. Torn apart by the selfish greatness of the two Macedonians, who ensured all who followed wanted to lead from above, not amongst a group of peers. The peninsula tempted me and Delphi tempted me more. Yet though stung by the dragon’s death throes, she taught us the limitations of physical might. It took nearly fifteen centuries to build the courage to come against her once more, to attempt to slay the monster.”

“It is a horrible punishment?”

“Well we were the prototypical barbarians at the gate, trying to hit them while down. Not sure if you can really blame her, nor do I think she knew the true impact of her curse upon those of us who confronted her directly. She probably would have felt satisfied with the lightning, earthquakes, and snowstorms that turned our army into easy prey. Beyond that act, when you study her role in the ancient world, particularly if you understand her power, she proved amazingly wise and benevolent. Not even fighting when Emperor Theodosius ended her waned hold upon the populace, retiring here as a recluse.

“But it was not her, we were the monsters who needed to truly die. Monsters reborn after every death, almost like a character in a video game appearing at our last save point. Forced to constantly roam, unable to maintain a home for fear our secret would become known. Mercenaries or bandits, we grew tired of the unending violence, but what else could we do to survive? Maybe if she died there would be nothing to hold us to this world. It became our preoccupation. A wonder we survived the truth, but at least now we have a place to call our own. A world in which to hide when overwhelmed by the problems found in the real world.”

At this, Brennus quickened his pace, making conversation difficult. Caught in the second such confession in the last few days, almost as if they tried to distract him from his own worries with unexplained lessons, Ken slowly realized they did not run towards the stadium. Delving into his memory, trying to find an image of the map that once guided his steps through ruins which hinted at the glory of this world, allowed him to guess they ran towards the gymnasium.

Another reason to stop talking, the gymnasium sat atop a steep hill.

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Chapter 8 - Pleasure

On the gymnasium’s lower terrace, within the palaestra, Ken tried not to embarrass past fighters who, for centuries, used this court in the real world for practice. Technique that at the end of the prior day felt comfortable now seemed less so. Possibly due to a change in target dummy. No longer a simulated human, now he struck at pressure sensitive targets strategically attached to a pole anchored to the floor. Targets demanding perfection impossible even for the best fighter ever born, which Ken was not, after only a single day of training.

After Ken settled into the form learned in that single day, a new voice said, “Nice form, but no power.”

Ken turned to see a red haired man standing beside Brennus. Physically of a slightly bigger size and build to Brennus, his facial features also showed the two were not far away from each other on their family trees, yet on him those features appeared colder, harder.

“Heather, can I introduce you to my oldest friend, Ashter. Ash, Heather.”

The overwhelming Ashter, as Ilina described him, though less today than if met yesterday. “Hello Ashter.”

“Heather,” the new arrival said in greeting. “After Bren relieved me last night, we discussed your training. He said you were fit and a good student, but that he did not have enough time to make the lessons worthwhile. He’s right.”

“But what about surprise?”

“It could use some help.” Brennus said.

With a nod of agreement, Ashter said, “Show me a palm strike to the right middle target. Just like Bren taught you.”

Nervous as when he started the prior day, Ken took his time. Visualizing what he needed to do, he did it. The number 58.6 appearing in the display.

“Well done, now hit it as hard as you can.”

That did not go as well, instead of hitting the target in the middle he hit it near the edge. Though the reading did increase to 62.3.

Ashter asked, “Have you ever golfed?”

“Umm, quite a few times. Why?”

“When learning to play golf, people quickly realize the ball goes further the harder they hit it. Just as quickly they learn how far off target the ball goes when they do so. The same, as you just showed, occurs with strikes. Though your second strike was harder, as a glancing blow it would likely prove less effective than the first. And that’s assuming either blow was hard enough, which they were not. Nor is there time for practice to make any difference.”

“Great motivational speech, Ash.” Brennus said. “Heather, he does have an idea on how to help.”

“Sorry, I just wanted to ensure everybody understood the parameters.”

“We’re not filming an episode of Mythbusters.”

“Which explains the regrettable absence of the wonderful Kari Byron. Now will you stop interrupting and let me explain?” Ashter asked, “So my yappy friend said he gave you the magic sucks when fighting speech. Which is true. It can accomplish what I once believed impossible, but how much time and concentration does it take? How careful does a caster need to be in order to ensure everything is perfect? Who can control all the factors in creating a shield of air, a wall of fire, or any such storybook spell while someone is trying to do them harm?”

Ken answered, “It’s beyond my skills.”

“Beyond the skills of all the casters I’ve ever known. In comparison, a palm strike is completely within your control. Which possibly can use a little help from magic.”

“But I thought magic was useless?”

“Better to say completely useless when cast against your opponent, less useless when you cast it upon yourself. It is something I learned while we traveled with a circus, during the 1890s. It included this strongman, what was his name Bren?”

“Wilbur Green, though he billed himself as Baron von Teuton.”

“Yeah, Wilbur. He had muscles on top of muscles, still he needed a shot of magic to perform the tricks of the other strongmen of the day. However, bending bars or performing the bent press were not his only use for magic, once I saw him use it to throw the most amazing punch. Fast and hard, he punched right through the wall behind his target. In an old style English inn made out of brick. If you can mimic him, that is your best bet.”

Soon after he learned of his magical birthright, but before the curse, Ken and his cousins often found themselves on a world consisting of an almost perfect water hole. It only missed a tree with a hanging branch from which they could hang a rope or tire swing. But that proved little hindrance, as the older children passed along a spell that when you ran and jumped, launched you as far as physically possible.

“Okay, I can see how it may work, what do I need to do?”

“Well, throw a strike exactly like Bren taught you, while also doing the magic thingee.”

“Magic thingee?”

Brennus said, “I don’t know how magic works, just how it’s powered. We’ll keep you going while you figure things out.”

“Yeah, between us we have over forty-six hundred years of practice lusting after pretty girls.”

Unable to come up with a response, Ken turned back to the dummy, trying to remember those days at the water hole. Could he translate those memories into something workable? Over the next while he practiced until finally he made it work. As for the two dirty old men, well they fulfilled their part of the bargain, even if they spent much of the time muttering away like Statler and Waldorf.

“I bet your arm is ready to fall off, Heather.” Brennus said.

“More so now you mention it.” Ken said, taking a drink to wash down his sandwich.

“Then you’ll enjoy the afternoon off. Ash and I have to work with the others this afternoon.”

Ashter said, “Brice makes us run weekly defence drills. He forgets we’re not right off the farm, but drills are better than his contract review meetings. Sometimes I wish you chose a different uncle to come along with us, Bren. Maybe Dannil?”

“You would have loved the last two millennia of him calling you Dungboy, particularly since you couldn’t kill him for long.”

“Can you at least stop Brice from going to conferences?”

“What should I do while you drill?” Ken asked, interrupting a conversation as comfortable to the pair as old shoes.

“You should go into town and do the tourist thing. It’s so much more fascinating alive than dead, both Greece and Roman captured in their marble glory.’’

Finding the idea a more appealing thought than further exercise, Ken asked, “Can I get a ride back to the apartment? I would like to clean up before I go anywhere.”

“There’s a better option, Heather. Once your done your lunch, I’ll show you.”

Sandwich, drink, and vegetables finished, Ken stood, wished Ashter goodbye, and followed Brennus into a corridor. The scent of moisture leached away any surprise when their destination led to the baths, three female constructs, wearing simple white tunics, waiting for them.

Brennus said, “You mentioned constructs creep you out? Well there are times I feel the same way, but never by the attendants of the baths, specially those Pythia gifted with talents of the best masseuses. I recommend their deft touch, but you are also free to head back to the apartment?”

The thought of how nice a massage would feel made the decision easy. “I’m good here.”

“Excellent. By the way, last night ended our triad’s watch set, so how about a real supper tonight?”

“Okay.”

“I look forward to it.”

By the time he left the second pool, the first warm and perfect for swimming, the second almost scalding, Ken’s fears of someone walking in on him disappeared. And by the time the constructs finished cleansing his skin with olive oil and strigil, his nervousness shrank significantly. Shrank completely after quick dips in the frigid and warm pools led to a wonderful massage, complete with scented nardinum oil. Only then did he think about clothes and his suitcase far away at Brennus’s apartment.

Again the constructs provided him all he needed, although in a style that updated Roman wear for the modern woman. Over lingerie, fit for a winged walk down a runway, he wore a sleeveless, white, silk tunic. Held in place by a cameo pin at one shoulder, leaving the other bare, it showed no thought to visiting his knees and nipped in at his waist due to a filigreed girdle of gold wire. A theme copied with the net into which they wove his hair, an armband for the upper arm of his bared shoulder, and a matching bracelet for his other wrist. Even the sandals on his feet, leather dyed a remarkable golden colour, were held in place by braided thongs wrapped about his calves.

The only thing lacking, a mirror. Something solved in the last room before arches led to the outside, where he found a large polished sheet of bronze. In it, Ken at first saw nothing of himself, but recently acquired memories and thoughts, like supplicants who traveled from the darkest parts of his mind, arrived to shout, ‘It is us! It is me!’ A petition that truth, his longtime destination, could not deny.

For every sense knew the she in the mirror as himself. Better, easier at least, to accept me as she and Ken as Heather.

She did.

Upon leaving the baths she smiled in delight at the waiting litter, a true Roman lectica. Unabashed, she lounged upon its mattress covered platform and gestured the four male constructs, complete with oiled muscles and loincloths, to their poles. In this decadent manner she traveled through a living reminder of two great empires.

Glorious only attempted to describe what she experienced.

Floating along on strong shoulders, she passed between the stalls of the Roman market, constructs both shouting their wares and succumbing to the offered temptation. They traveled through the main gates along the Sacred Way. At each monument and treasury she would dismount from the litter and wander about, ignored by all except the waiting porters. Heather sat upon the Sibyl rock, observed the eternal flame, drank from the sacred spring, and watched actors, musicians, and acrobats while eating fruit and drinking wine cut with water at the theatre. For one afternoon, she found herself captured in the timeless grip that held this place across the centuries.

Yet a grip can also strangle. Held too tight, it is impossible to live, to grow. Ancient Delphi released its hold with the arrival of dusk, the signal for construct citizenry to start their nightly exodus to wherever they spent the night. For the first time, Heather found their absence sapped life from a place. Once more she climbed onto the litter, expecting they would carry her back to the Boii’s apartment.

But instead of winding back along the Sacred Way, the porters carried her East to and along the Stoa of Attalos, where Brennus waited to help her from the lectica and ask, “How went your afternoon?”

“Spectacular. Ancient history has always fascinated me and I’ve toured the Delphi ruins many times over the last three decades. Over the years the site and its tours improved, but this is beyond the dreams of the most visionary curator when seeking funding for a new interpretive centre. Does it grow old, living so close to it?”

“Actually I can count the times I’ve been inside the walls on one hand, with fingers to spare. I’ve always satisfied myself with the lands and buildings on the outside.”

“What? Why?”

“I guess shame. It only took one visit, my last, to realize how right you are. It is spectacular. Yet on my first two visits I sought to pillage and destroy. Doubtlessly selfish, but I prefer to minimize my memories of my barbarism.”

Unable to argue, Heather watched the final glory of the day’s sun. As it sank below the western hills, its final rays danced in delight between the pillars of the pathway to form a golden spotlight upon a table set for two. To one of those seats Brennus, dressed in style and class to dispel any final remembrances of the high school teacher, guided her to a seat and poured them both wine. A rather romantic setting for supper, one made even more intimate when the porters trotted back along the stoa. Yet she felt no surprise, she realized she half expected it. Nor dismay, as her recently gained memories made it seem natural.

“Quinta do Vallado,” Brennus said, reading the bottle’s label. “My Uncle Bricius recommended it. I hope you like reds?”

“I’m not sure. The old me did not like any wine, but...” Heather said, reaching for her glass to take a sip. “...the new me likes this quite fine. How went your drills?”

The evening proved as fascinating as the afternoon. Like the buildings in Delphi, Brennus proved himself a relic of history. More so in ways, never chained to a single spot, a soldier who thrived in the battles and warfare but who never ignored the art and society of a time, he answered all of Heather’s questions with a story. Nothing gave him pause until after dessert, a decadent chocolate concoction delivered by a construct appearing from the dark.

“Does this always work?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the whole dress a girl in silk and jewels, have her carried about the city like a patrician’s daughter, feed her a fabulous meal, and place yourself in the running for the most interesting man in the world. All without a bottle of Dos Equis in sight.”

“Oh that.” Brennus said, unabashed at being called out. “It works spectacularly well.”

“I bet. And tonight, do you expect it to work again?”

“It better. Think how disappointed you will be if it doesn’t.”

So utterly corny, but Heather remembered something Ilina said. Confidence was sexy.

Of course she did not need to remember Ilina's last statement. Those words provided background vocals during the entire dinner.

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Chapter 9 - Fear

In their sixty plus combined years, both Heather and Ken often experienced 4:00 AM, but only five times after a night’s sleep. Like those mornings, it felt awful early to wake, which at the time led to second, third and more thoughts against going fishing. Even more-so now, when serving as the bait.

Yet, how do you escape a promise triggered by chivalry?

Nothing for Heather to do except rise and stagger across the hall into the shower of her unused room. Maybe that would wake her. It definitely helped, but when she stepped back into her room, towels wrapped around her torso and head, a fully dressed and rather perky Ilina questioned how much.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“It’s still last night.” Heather said, around a yawn. “”But I fell asleep by 10, sleep came easier than expected.”

“Nothing like great sex to put you to sleep.”

“Ilina! I...I nev...I...”

“Now Heather, how often did I visit you at Dannika’s? Combined with the two mornings at my place and not once did you make your bed before showering. Nor, when you did, did you ever make it with the precision of the Boii’s housekeeping constructs. And I know that grin on Brennus’s face. Though honestly I would be shocked if your training did not go full contact. Want to tell big sister Ilina about it?

“No.” Heather said, only slightly embarrassed at Ilina's accurate guess about the prior two evenings, never mind yesterday morning or the gymnasium’s pools after training.

“We don’t have time anyways. Can Gary come in?”

“There is nothing he hasn’t seen before. Why though?”

Ilina said, “To provide a quick refresher on your doppelganger’s activities over the last few weeks.”

This experience with the hulking changer proved quick, but intense. With two gentle fingers upon each temple, Gary made Heather live the experiences and conversations of her original. Amongst these she found relief at the break up with short term Dylan, once so terrifying, but less so after a few days at Pythia’s Retreat. She also obtained an inkling of Ilina's plan.

“Tess, she’s one of yours. But we, I mean they met last year.” Heather said, startled once more by the amount of effort invested by the Samodivas to capture the murderer.

“It took some time for us to determine who we consider is the true target. Fortunately we are a large organization, since we required thirty eight sisters to return to school. Though it is not a terrible hardship on any of them, each will thrive on a university campus. Amongst those thirty eight targets, Heather ranked quite high, which is why we assigned Tess, one of our best, as her shadow. These skills show why she lives in the same building as Heather and how she finagled invites for the two of you to the best Halloween Eve party in town.”

“Why are we performing the switch tonight? Not tomorrow?”

“It would be an unneeded distraction tomorrow. We plan to keep our switch secret and Tess’s place seems the perfect location. So in two hours, around 9 their time, Heather will stop by and pick Tess up before they head out to party. That’s when you will take over.”

“What will you do with Heather while I’m playing her?”

“Keep her knocked out, feed her your memories, then release her back into the wild. Unaware of the danger she skirted.” Ilina answered. “But enough questions for now, you need to get ready. You’ll love today’s costume.”

“I just relived putting together the costume, I know I won’t.”

“But Heather, it’s magical.”

Brennus appeared to agree, for when she exited his spare room thirty-five minutes later, he took one look and said, “Five hundred points for Gryffinborn.”

“You mean Gryffindor,” Ilina said. “And you don’t give points to naughty students.”

“Have you seen how Mrs. Claus is dressing these days? Ever since she started Pilates the naughty and nice spectrum has undergone a serious shift.”

Hard to deny where her costume belonged on that scale, Heather thought, particularly when knowing the reasons behind its choice. The figure hugging, grey dress emblazoned with a Hogwarts crest comfortably established its place amongst the always evolving sexy Halloween costume. The short pleated skirt, along with stiletto heeled Mary Janes and white knee socks showed off legs wonderfully toned by her recent physical regiment. And if the plunging neckline did not match Lyndsay Lohan’s memorable SNL appearance, the gold and scarlet mini-tie pointed out the yeoman’s work done by nature and her push up bra. The worst or maybe best thing, after Brennus’s reaction, she liked the costume a lot more.

“Speaking of which, we should hurry. It’s a round-about path and we need to be in place within the hour, so you may wish to switch to your running shoes, Heather.”

“Good idea. You coming along, Brennus?”

“Yes, along with Ash and Brice. We’ll act as Ilina's reserve.”

Ten minutes later, at the cinder block bunker, Heather met the third member of their triad. Rather than the expected elder statesman, she found Bricius less than a decade older than his nephew and looking enough like him to confirm the relationship. His attitude of bemused charm made him just as entertaining as his colleagues, something she learned during their journey as he and Ash competed to tell their favourite stories about Brennus. Something she found even more humorous when she realized these ancients acted like any older brother around a younger brother’s first girlfriend.

Almost she laughed, but a small part of her being, one mostly on sabbatical scared it away with an internal whimper. Also at this time, Ilina chased the two men away, telling them she needed to talk to Heather.

“So are you all juiced up?” She asked and almost immediately laughed at the look on Heather’s face. “Get your mind out of the gutter girl. I mean magically.”

Hand going to an earring, Heather answered, “Oh, yes. And the overflow has boosted my account with the family higher than I ever imagined possible.”

“Another benefit.” Ilina said, not at all cryptically. “Very well, try to stay topped up. Otherwise, lean heavily on Tess during the next couple of days. She’s in on everything and as I said, one of our best.”

“Do you think he knows? About all of you?”

“We’re unsure. It is probable he learned something the last time around, but our profilers believe it will not stop him. Many serial killers own an arrogance, a belief they are invincible. It is not unusual for them to taunt the police, who in this case is us.”

“And if he doesn’t do anything tonight or tomorrow?”

“There are still watches on those girls who we consider lesser targets. We would also ask you to maintain your masquerade for the next week or so, beyond that time we doubt he would try anything. It would no longer match his MO, which probably provides a significant part of his thrill. Besides it is possible he is dead, in prison, incapacitated, or has decided to stop. That does happen.”

Heather said, “I would like to catch him, but I would be just as happy if he has just stopped.”

“I think we’d also see it as a success.” Ilina admitted.

Reaching the last hub, they crossed through into a nice lounge, complete with entertainment units, table and a kitchenette.

Ilina said, “Grab a seat. We set this up as a crossover and meeting point, we can get into Tess’s apartment through the third door from the left.”

Heather ended up seated between Ilina and Brennus on the couch, Bricius in an armchair, while Ashter wandered towards the kitchenette to look in the fridge. Shaking his head in disgust, he wandered back and flopped into another chair and said, “Light beer and coolers. Let me guess, we’re going to talk about the Sex in the City movie from the summer while we wait?”

“Let’s play the quiet game, Ash.” Brennus said.

The other four appeared so good at the game that Heather found it easy to play along. Instead she focused on the iPhone in Ilina's hands, watching the minutes pass. At 9:10, Ilina finally lost patience and sent a text, Is she there?

Less than a minute later, Tess responded, Not yet.

Before Ilina worried further, which would make her worry even more, Heather said, “You know, we’re not the most punctual person. I mean, Heather isn’t. She’s always late for things.”

This calmed Ilina down, but everybody felt relief when she received the next text, She’s here. We’re having the drink.

“Tess is going to put some knockout drops in Heather’s drink.” Ilina said, eyes still on the screen of her phone. “You guys will need to carry her from there to here.”

Brennus said, “Take Brice and Ash.”

“I’m strong like ox.” Ash said. “I’m waiting.”

Even Heather knew what he expected and said, “And just about as smart?”

“Exactly!”

A few minutes later Ilina and the two men passed through Tess’s door and for a moment Heather found herself struck by horror at the thought she served not as the bait to capture a murderer, but that they used her as a dupe to kidnap this Heather for some nefarious purpose. Each owned a dark past. Yet she could not believe that possibility, would not believe it. They all seemed so sincere, almost normal. Nice. She liked each of them.

“I can’t believe this is happening. I mean I knew it would, but everything seemed so slow now it seems so fast.” Heather said, when the two were alone. “And Gary said it will be months before I can change again. Where will I go? I don’t want to be a burden on the Divas and I definitely don’t want my family to see me right now.”

A veteran of more battles than he ever wished to remember, Brennus could write a thesis on the fears and reactions to fear he witnessed. Not unusual for someone to focus upon the unimportant, though this time he could offer a solution.

“I have a number of places scattered about. You are free to stay at any of them.”

Showing the distance of Ken’s retreat, Heather’s immediately found herself hoping that offer included Brennus’s presence. However, before she could clarify, a strange parade entered the lounge. All of them he recognized, including his unconscious doppelganger carried by Ash. But her memories did not prepare her for Tess showcasing her buxom, red haired glory in the barely there leotard and thigh boots of the superheroine Starfire.

“Now that’s bad, Ilina!” Brennus said. “Wonderfully bad.”

“I do try.” Tess said, pleased at scoring the last goal in her hat trick of stunned compliments from the three Boiis.

Ilina said, “Brennus, if you and Heather will stand, Ash will have somewhere to place...umm...Heather. That could get confusing if we kept the two of you together.”

“No time, our taxi is picking us up at 9:30. Get her cape Heather, your hat and wand are at my place.”

“Okay, Tess.” Heather said, gently undoing the short cloak from her mirror image, before fastening it about her own neck

That accomplished, the redhead ushered her through the door into an eerily familiar room, pointed to a coffee table covered with a witch’s hat, wand, and purse, then rushed to answer the phone.

“Hello. We’ll be right down.”

Just like that, with no time to think or worry, they left the apartment, walking past a familiar apartment door, towards the elevator. Waiting for its arrival, Heather asked some questions.

“No coats?”

“It’s a beautiful California night.” Tess answered, mischief in her eyes. “Oh yeah, you’ll need fake ID tonight. Here.”

“Wanda? Really?”

“In keeping with your costume. Anyways, we’re off to the VIP party at the Melon Ball. It will be full of the rich, stupid, and horny. And since you already fell for a mickey in your drink tonight, let me remind you to only drink from glasses directly from a server and to forget that glass once you hit the dance floor. And girl, we’re going to dance, because one good thing about the rich. They always hire the best DJs.”

Heather’s law and order worries made a quick appearance when they showed their invites and ID at the door. However, doorman at those types of clubs did not make a living by keeping sexy girls out when they pass the sniff test.

Definitely not a world in which Ken could exist, but Heather fit right in. Years of dance classes meant the dance floor offered a home where she as often danced with Tess or on her own, as much as with the rich, stupid, and horny who tried to catch the two with unsubtle combinations of braggadocio and praise. Fortunately, with servers walking about with trays of complimentary champagne, they could not add purchased drinks to their repertoire. And the two ensured the free bubbly did not get them in trouble, taking only a sip or two from a glass before returning to the dance floor.

She could not believe the amount of fun she experienced while surrounded by people and noise. Nor how disappointed she felt when the DJ stopped playing and the lights came on. Feeling buzzed, both by how those sips of champagne added up and by the distillation of emotions that whirled about them all evening, the two left the dance floor one final time.

“Why didn’t I bring different shoes?” Heather asked.

“Solidarity. You knew my costume wouldn’t allow me to change so you girled up and stood perched beside me in my time of...of...being hot.”

“You better believe it, Sister. Although I could use a foot rub.”

“Think Ilina will let your Boii toy, Brennus, visit? If so, ask her to send Ash my way. I like them all muscly.”

Too wrapped up in solidarity to dissemble, Heather said, “Wouldn’t that be nice. But I don’t think that is part of her plan.”

“Well then I will teach you an ancient Diva secret when we get back to the apartment.” Tess said.

As she reached for her purse amongst the clutter of the table shared with some other unattached girls, most who remedied that situation and left earlier, Heather said, “Hey, a rose with a note. Must be from one of your admirers”

“Hold it, something feels off about it. Let me.”

When all merriment drained from Tess’s eyes, Heather snatched the note. She read.

Dearest Not Heather,

Debra, Sarah and all the others hope we are able to enjoy ourselves together.

Yours til the End of Time, Eric

With misfortune once more painting the world brown, it seemed only natural for Ken to return to the forefront. Yet the only thing he could add was a desire to return home to the Williams family house, up in his bedroom playing Demon Souls.