I am sorry it has taken me so long to post this continuation of Atalanta's Story. I had much of it wrote a year ago but this has been written almost from scratch three times. I has to slap myself from a fourth. I want to thank Ashleigh for editing it and to Bill who helped me in the early stages of this story. And to Todd who read it. I hoped I have not missed thanking or shortchanging anyone. If I did accept my apologies. I guess I should add this is copywrited material.

Atalanta arrives at the train depot to find...

Chapter 1

Dunwich depot stood as a testament of 18th century craftsmanship. Oaken and chestnut timbers provided the flooring, walls, and structure still sound after 100 plus years. At the far end of the room and behind a walled off area complete with bars sat the old stationmaster in his official uniform, it was like stepping back in time, authentic even to his bespectacled face as he waited for passengers that were boarding, departing or waiting.

Due to the time he guessed most were waiting for the school van to arrive. He sat drowsing in the late afternoon sun. Across from him and to the right of the lobby was a waiting room that included arcade games. Not the very latest stuff but enough that made the area profitable. His eyes would gleam whenever there was activity around the games, soda, and snack machines.

I opened the door admitting a beam of sunlight that seemed to burn across the polished floor and painting me in a golden light. I stood silent, my eyes sweeping the rooms, carefully shut the door, and continued searching the interior.
The old man studied the newcomer. Even among the students that came each year she stood out. Tall, at just under six feet in her boots her frame; while feminine was athletic and toned and she moved with ease and power. Up closer her eyes were not green but gray sprinkled with flecks of blue-green. Her auburn hair hung naturally, curled in waves down her back and shoulders.

The lobby was empty except for me and the old man but my senses had caught someone leaving by the back door. Crossing the lobby carrying my luggage I nudged the door to his cage open and deposited them on the floor beside him.

“Hey what are you doing?” he complained, “You’re not allowed back here.”

“That go for them too?” I asked. His eyes betrayed him darting towards the back door.

“I expect my luggage to be looked after,” I smiled gently.

“Okay,” he gulped, “but…”

I was already in motion and at the backdoor before he finished his response. Gently easing the door open I peered around the corner and at the back loading platform. Down at the far end were three men, idly lounging around the platform in the afternoon sun.

I quickly and silently crossed the platform width and dropped down to the ground, and crouching, slipped to within a few feet catching some of their conversation.

“… you sure?”

“Yes, she looks just like her picture.”

“Get ready,” the first spoke hissed, “here is our ride now.”

The “ride” was a dark green passenger van without any distinguishable markings as seen from my vantage point. That knowledge taken together with the comment that I look like my picture rang warning bells in my mind.

I watched as the van parked. The men quickly subdued it's two occupants, tied them up, and tossed them into a nearby storage shed. Two of the men left the third in the driver’s seat while they went inside the depot.

The driver had his eyes glued at the front platform where he expected his confederates to appear. He didn’t see me as I came from behind, and using a hold that Manny showed me, quickly rendered him unconscious.

In seconds I had searched and bound him, leaving him behind the wheel barely able to hide before his two partners returned, complaining.

“Hey Bud, come on let’s go the kid skipped. Bud …,” he called in alarm as he realized something had gone awry. In that instant I sprang from my cover jabbing the hypodermic meant for me in his exposed neck, “Arghh,” he cried collapsing.

I caught the second man’s hand, as it darted under his coat, holding it tightly against his body despite his efforts to dislodge it. Suddenly, he shifted tactics letting that arm go limp and swung a left hook at me.

Thanks to Manny’s training I expected something of the sort and let go as he did, and, ducking under his left, caught his wrist with my left hand. Using his momentum I came up behind his twisting body, and shoving my right palm in his shoulder I forced him to the ground.

“Who sent you,” I hissed in his ear.

“Fuc … uh,” his retort was cut off as I applied more pressure to his rotator cuff.

“Talk,” I demanded easing the pressure.

“Okay, okay, that hurts, oww,” he squawked as I temporarily pulled back harder.

“I don’t know who he was. We got a call and the money was wired to us at the same time.”

“And then what,” I prompted bearing down on his shoulder for emphasis.

“We were to bring you to a safe house in Boston and wait for more instructions.”

“I want the address of that house.” I filed that address he gave in my memory for later use.

“Who's waiting for me there?”

“I don’t know who owns it,” he croaked.

“Oww,” he cried as I shifted higher on his body bring his arm with me, “I didn’t ask who owned it, but who uses it.”
“MCO, H1, and a smattering of others use it.” Clearly that was all the information I could dig out for now, and I quickly switched to a choke hold on his carotid artery. In seconds he passed out.

Digging through his pockets I fished his car keys out, and quickly locating the car they came in, drove it over, where with some difficulty I dumped their limp bodies in the back. And then I parked it under some trees at a far corner of the lot.

Next I checked and found the Whateley employees sleeping peacefully inside the shed. Crime must pay well; as after searching the thugs I found $5,000 in cash, while in the trunk of their car I discovered several handguns, an equal number of rifles, and lots of extra gear from tablets to NV equipment, medical kits complete with anesthetic, to changes of clothing and food supply.

The beginnings of a plan formed as I took stock of what happened. These three were sent to capture me for some reason, a reason that seemed personal. Until I was within the academy my safety couldn’t be guaranteed.

I retraced my steps to the backdoor, and seeing the lobby empty walked in silently. The clock on the wall showed that it had been only 15 minutes since I left the old man to go out back.

“You have a phone book,” I asked him. Wetting his lips he indicated the counter.

“Thanks,” I replied walking over and opening up the book quickly to the section I wanted. I committed to memory the three names I found there.
Closing the book I strode to where my luggage was and picked it up, “You haven’t seen me old man.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing.

Again I want to express my thanks to everyone that helped me in getting this story ready. I hope you enjoy the story.

In this chapter Atalanta meets a new friend.

Chapter 2

Outside, I walked towards town far enough to be reasonably out of sight and called the first number, “Crescent Cab.”
I told him where I was and he said that he was on his way.

“Where to miss?” the cab driver asked me from the driver’s seat after he had stored my luggage in the trunk.

“You know of any sporting goods stores around here?” I inquired.

He nodded putting the car in gear and accelerating onto the road. As we sped along the two-lane main street I suddenly yelled: “Stop!”

“Where?” he inquired braking the car.

“There.” I pointed at a stone and wood structure set apart from its neighbors. From a distance the building's front porch provided the inhabitants with privacy with stone pillars. The house was crisscrossed with intersecting roof lines containing numerous alcoves.

What caught my attention was the business name in giant lettering across the front; “The Owls Nest,” and a picture of Harvard or his twin rising toward the 60 foot stone tower topped with a conical roof. The rectangular windows, taller than wide and trimmed in white reminded me of a birdhouse.

After we stopped I studied the structure from outside the car before saying, “It looks … different.”

“It is,” he agreed, “some recluse built it years ago, to get away from the rat race, I guess. It stayed empty for years after he died; some say because it was haunted.”

“Is it,” I asked mildly.

“You couldn’t prove it by me,” he replied, adding, “I figured it was because nobody knew what to do with it.”

“And the new owner,” I prompted staring at the building; resisting the pull I felt.

“She bought it a couple of months ago and began renovations soon after. She just opened a couple of weeks ago.”

Up close the sign read, “Owls Nest: Metaphysical and Bookstore.”

“I shouldn’t be long, keep the meter running” I stated closing the car door.

“I’ll be here.”

Walking up the steps I felt a strong sense of déjà vu that was odd because I knew I had never, even from pictures, seen a structure to match this one.

Once inside I stopped to examine the room. Across the front and on my left housed in glass casing beneath the counter were metaphysical supplies, as was the back wall. In between were aisles of books. Various large, fat, candles dribbling wax in the wall sconces behind the counter helped to reinforce the occult theme.

I turned my attention to the tasseled curtains that admitted one of the most beautiful women in the world.

No, it was not Cindy Crawford!

I grinned to myself at that thought. She was as tall as me and her long, blonde, golden hair that hung in waves over her shoulder was coiffured; held in place with pins whose designs reminded me of some mythological creatures. She was dressed in sandals and a short sleeved mid length tunic of white silks. Her jewelry sparkled in the candlelight.
She seemed strangely familiar yet I couldn’t place her.

“Welcome, welcome, milady,” her voice lilting in tune with some unknown melody, “How may I assist you?”

I blinked in surprise at her choice of words and speech pattern. “I don’t know,” I admitted, “I felt I had to stop and come in here and look around. I guess it was the picture of the owl that did it.”

“Ah,” she intoned, “the messenger of the gods.”

“I guess so but I recently had an experience with an owl.”

“Tell me about that.” Not knowing why, and against my better judgment, I did.

“Harvard,” she questioned after I finished my tale, “whatever possessed you to use that name?”

Grinning foolishly I replied, “Can’t say I was possessed, but the name and the idea did come from out of the blue. Harvard was a smart bird and Harvard University is thought to graduate smart people. It seemed right at the time.”

Rolling the name over her tongue she replied, “Harvard, I like that name and very appropriate for a bookstore don’t you agree.”

“Yes it does,” I agreed.

“You don’t mind if I use it for my logo.”

“I don’t mind at all and I’m sure Harvard would be honored.”

“Good that’s settled and I have a gift for you in return,” she returned, walking to a shelf and handing me a thin paperback book with a red jacket and a warrior pictured with drawn bow and notched arrow, “The Art of War” by Sun Tzu.

“War,” I mumbled.

“Yes, ‘The Art of War’ written some 3,000 years ago and contained in its pages is wisdom far beyond mere warfare. Read it and absorb its teachings and you will the richer for it.”

Thank you Miss,”

“You may call me Audhilde, Atalanta.”

I didn’t remember telling her my name. She took my hand and led me to the front, pointing through the widows at the room on top of the tower and said, “That is the Owls Nest, a room to study, meditate, read, observe, or rest. You can access it through that door,” she pointed to a solid wood door located inside a small overhang, “ it also has a door outside that leads up,” She continued pressing a key in my hand, “this key fits that door. It is yours; use it at anytime-day or night. Just keep the door locked at all times.”

She quieted my protest, “You better get going; you have a lot to do, we’ll talk later.”

She was right I did, “Thank you, Audhilde.”

“You’re welcome … Atalanta.”

I don’t know why, but I had a strong feeling I could trust Audhilde.

Outside I breathed out a sigh, clutching the book and key tightly I walked quickly to my cab where we left to find the sporting goods store and from there to a grocer.

From there we drove to an outfitters ranch where I bought three horses and tack supplies. The ranch owner and the cab driver helped me pack my gear on the horses.

Out of earshot of the owner I paid the driver and tipped him an extra hundred for his silence.

After the cab left, I asked the owner if he would load the horses and drive us to just before where the railroad came into town. He agreed and we quickly loaded the animals on his trailer and soon were parked at a turning place a mile or so out of Dunwich.

I paid him for his service and as I did I said, “I’d appreciate it if you forgot you saw me.”

“This is dangerous country, especially with winter coming on and the wild animals we have here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I replied adding, “and I promise not to hurt your wild animals.”

“Nevertheless, I’d feel better if you put my number in your phone in case you need anything.”

“Thank you,” I replied, doing as he wished. I waited until he vanished from site before finding a secluded place to hobble my horses and then jogged back to the depot. Keeping to the trees I gained the rear lot unseen, and placing my ear to the shed was relieved to hear stirrings coming from inside. Crossing to the van, I replaced the key in the ignition, before running lightly to the car the three mercenaries arrived in, to find them awake and struggling with their bindings.
They quieted when they saw me but squirmed as I brought a chloroform saturated cloth to their faces. Thankful for the contents of their medical kits, I got in the driver’s side and quickly drove off towards Berlin, stopping where my horses were and unloading the trunk’s contents. From there I drove the car and left it up a logging road a few hundred feet past where my horses were hobbled.

Opening the rear door and leaning in I listened for their steady breathing before cutting one man’s bindings and leaving a note to where he could find the car keys. I ran to where I left the horses and the arsenal, loading it on the third horse quickly.

I had about thirty-maybe forty-five minutes of daylight left to find a camping spot for tonight in a wilderness I knew nothing about. Nevertheless, I turned the horses, traveling downhill to where I hoped the Miskatonic River ran.

Again I want to thank everyone who helped get this far; Bill for his encouragement, thanks to Ashleigh for editing and Todd for reading it. I've included an image of her that I feel captures her her spirit in the wild.

Atalanta makes camp and reaches out to an old friend for help.

Chapter 3

Just as darkness closed we burst from the trees and onto a wide expanse of a sandy beach sandwiched between two rocky cliffs where the river made a sweeping turn. Near the turn’s apex a cliff rose several hundred feet and at its base I found a place where the rushing waters had undercut the cliff, offering natural shelter.

The action of the waters left an abundance of firewood scattered around. This would be a bad place during spring flooding, but at this time of the year it was safe.

I picketed the horses before starting a fire to cook something for supper. During this I cast my thoughts over the failed kidnapping attempt today. I suspected it was probably at the direction of one person or one group. The group that I saw was ex military and if today was any indication: paramilitary. They also seemed to know my movements too.

Only a handful of people knew my travel plans well enough to predict my movements. I crossed Mom and Judy off that list. Lindsey only knew that I was going to Whateley, a military school back east and of course the day I was leaving.
I suspected the source had come from someone at Whateley, or from within the government. I knew from Manny’s stories that files and reports were often sidetracked, or copied by unsuspecting clerks.

While I was eating supper my mind began exploring my next steps. As long as I remained hidden and with nobody knowing my plans or destination I could formulate an offensive strike. Or at least cast doubts among the opposing troops.

I had just one person who I could trust and that could help me. Retrieving my phone I scrolled down the contacts until I came to the B’s and then I dialed.

Chapter 4

He stared out the window of the trailer he had called home for almost two years. The interior had taken on aspects of field trainings he had received over the last dozen years with tools, trappings, and materials piling up. The whiteboard too, reminded him of mission logistics. Construction supplies and personnel were eerily similar when they were mapped out.

This construction was all but finished and he was considering what was next up, another job with Franklin Construction, take Judy up on her offer at the ranch, or re-enlist. As he mused about his future, the images of Liz and Atalanta jumped forefront in his mind. He liked Liz and he felt with some effort they might have a future together.

But would that drive a wedge between him and Atalanta?

Manny wasn’t sure how Atalanta felt about him. But he questioned whether he wanted to settle down in one place. He had called and talked with Liz at two separate times since he had left in August. The last he had heard from Liz, Atalanta was complaining about going to school. Imagine that - a teenager who found school boring. Manny felt he had a responsibility to Atalanta for training her at her age, and not being there to answer questions and guide her through difficult decisions was sure to come up.

But he needed to make a decision in the next year if he wanted to enlist at his old level as he had no desire to work his way back to his current grade. Manny admitted to himself that he missed the camaraderie, the excitement, and yes - the danger that the Navy, and in particular the Seal's offered. But as he watched the sun set on the Pacific his mind traveled back in time to yesterday and last night.

He had three phone numbers all routed to one phone and the number that was called last night was the one he had given out to Judy, Liz, and Atalanta. He had been surprised and pleased to hear from Atalanta.

As she told him of the train assault he felt a surge of anger followed quickly by a sense of pride in her ability to thwart the attack, and later in the interview process with police. He knew from experience that most people when confronted by authority talked too much.

Though he considered the train attempt a one off event, he agreed with Atalanta that having a plan B for Boston was a sensible precaution. He was concerned when Atalanta and later Mark had called him with the details of the MCO’s attempt at an arrest in the hotel. Later that night when she called him back about the double-cross in Mark’s team, his mind went into mission mode. He assessed her situation giving it the same consideration he would if she was overseas on a covert operation and facing trained assassins. His instructions to her were the same as he had given many times before. Only now he was handing those out to an inexperienced 14 year old-girl.

The 15 minutes spent trying to raise Mark on the phone felt like a week, while the almost an hour until Mark called back went by painfully slow. He jabbed the phone hard when it finally did ring, “What in hell is going on out there?”

“Damn, man back off that ledge you’re on will you?”

“Knock it off,” Manny growled, “Did you get there in time?”

“Yeah, man we did. It was all over by then though.”

“Tell me what happened.” Mark did.

From Mark’s description of the aftermath and the fight with Pete, Manny knew Atalanta had changed in the months since he had seen her. She seemed to have developed an edge to her.

He also had to rethink his assumption that these were one off events but rather a series of planned tactics orchestrated by unknown parties. Manny was confident that in time he would find out who was behind these strikes. But did he - and more to the point - did Atalanta have that time? At least at Whateley she should be safe until he could figure it out.

He felt a weight lift from his shoulders when he decided to quit Franklin Construction after the LA gig was finished. Considering Atalanta’s situation the military was out too; a two year contract tied his hands to help her.

Manny had saved a considerable nest egg while in the military and Mr. Franklin paid even better. He didn’t need to work if he didn’t want to for several years yet. With his background and contacts he could consult or open his own security firm. The decision made, he felt lighter in spirit than he had in the last six months or so. It wasn’t in his nature to be indecisive and now that he had made that decision he could look at other options.

He felt a responsibility to Atalanta. He looked at his watch; she should be settling into her room.

His phone rang.

Chapter 5

“Hello Atalanta, I didn’t expect to hear from you this soon. Is everything all right?”

“Hi Manny,” I replied smiling, “I didn’t think I’d be calling either. I need your help.”

“Sure thing kiddo, tell me what’s going on.” I did, starting with getting off at the train station and finishing with leaving the car up a logging road. I also told him my conclusions.

“I think you’re right Atalanta this leak - although I guess technically it wasn’t a state secret, came through official channels. Now give me their names, the address of their safe house and that phone number that called them.”
Luckily I had extracted the time the would-be kidnappers had received their assignment and that number was easily deduced.

“What about your Mom?”

“I called her just before we got to Dunwich,” I replied adding, “She’s not expecting a call from me until tomorrow night. But I don’t know if the school will call her.”

“Okay, leave your Mom to me. I’ll call her and tell her what happened; that Mark and the boys followed you to Dunwich and foiled the attempt, but that they have you in another safe house. And that we have to maintain radio silence for 24 hours while we set up a trap.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you Manny.”

“Sure thing kiddo, are you going to stay where you’re at?”

“I think so, I’d like to be farther away from the road but this place doesn’t seem to get a lot of foot traffic and there is only one approach.”

“There is only one exit, too,” he cautioned.

“That’s true,” I admitted, “but I can cross the river.”

“Those phones you confiscated have a data link?”

“Yeah, they do.” Manny talked me through how to set up a phone-to-phone connection and in minutes I had transferred the contents of the three phones over to Manny’s.

After finishing that he asked me if I could set up a warning system. “I did buy a couple of trail cams and I have my laptop.” I then listed some of the items that I had confiscated.

“Whew,” he whistled, “That’s some high grade military stuff. Here’s what you’re gonna do,” and he described how to properly set up a perimeter.

“Think you can handle that?”

“Piece of cake,” I declared snapping my fingers.

“That’s what I like about you Atalanta; your humility,” he laughed.

“No I’m just the can-do girl.”

“That you are. I’m going to run these names, phone numbers, and addresses through my contacts. That should tell us something about who’s behind this. I’m also going to contact Mark and have his guys stake the house out and see who comes and goes there. I believe too, I need to do my civic duty and report three suspicious characters.”

I grinned through the phone with him, “Manny I just had a thought, whoever hired those three is supposed call them tomorrow with further instructions. If I forward their calls to your number …”

“Brilliant,” he intoned the Guinness Beer commercial, “but nix on my number I know a better alternative,” and he rattled off an eleven digit number that I immediately entered into the phones.

“Have we forgotten anything?”

“Don’t forget to call Mom,” I reminded him.

“I won’t, but what about you, what are you going to do beside lay around in the sun?” he teased.

“Believe it or not I’m going to curl up with a good book.”

“One of those Twilight books,” he accused.

“Actually no, a book that someone gave me today. The Art of War, ever hear of it?”

“Really?”

“Yeah really, this woman gave it to me today.”

“Not that it matters,” Manny replied, “but The Art of War is a book I am ashamed to say that I forgot. There is a lot more than War in that book.”

“That’s what she said.”

We talked a few minutes longer before we hung up, with his reminder to set up the trip wires and secure the camp perimeter. First though I set up my tent and sleeping bag, dragging some of the gear inside where I separated what I needed.

Then I went and set up the wires and cams in a semicircle 50 yards out. Back inside the tent I powered up my laptop and initialized the cameras. Satisfied that I had done all I could to prepare I removed my clothing down to my underclothes. Rummaging through my duffel I found and donned the flannel shirt that Mom griped about, and that I found comforting. Sitting cross legged I reached back into the duffel for the parts and assembled my Ruger pistols.
I placed one under my pillow and the other in my sleeping bag. My knife, I left in its scabbard lashed to my boot but nearby. Suddenly tired, I turned off the lantern and crawled into the sleeping bag.

Chapter 6

As soon as he hung the phone up Manny called Mark in Boston, telling him what almost happened at Dunwich.

“Damn,” he whistled appreciatively, “Who is this girl anyway?”

“Hell on wheels, I reckon.”

“She’s all that and more,” Mark agreed, “You want us to fetch her.”

“Negative, I talked her through a thorough perimeter setting and she has a small arsenal with her. Take it from me, she’s damned accurate. Anybody coming looking for her there will have their ass handed to them.”

What do you need from us?"

Manny told him of the house that the abductors were planning to take Atalanta to. “Watch it for me, and see who comes and goes.”

Mark eagerly agreed because first it pissed him off that Atalanta was being targeted, and second he always welcomed gathering intelligence on a potential enemy since this was a house he was not aware of until now.

His next call was to a clinic in New Mexico, “Hello this is Doctor Reid. How may I help you?”

Manny knew that calls to the clinic after hours were forwarded to Liz’s home phone. He knew because he had set the phone network up that way. “Hello Liz, Manny.”

“Manny, it's good to hear your voice, but why are you using this number?”

He knew the school hadn’t her called yet.

“Something came up Liz.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath, “Something happened to Atalanta.”

“No our girl is fine, but something did almost happen. You know Mark drove Atalanta to Berlin train station, and you know the reasons why they didn’t take her all the way to Dunwich.”

Yes, she knew the damned requirements placed on travel restrictions with a temporary MMID card.

“What?” she interjected forcing herself back into the present.

“I need your attention Liz. After Mark dropped Atalanta off at Berlin he began having second thoughts, and they drove up to Dunwich to make certain she got to Whateley safely. It was a good thing they did because somebody tried to kidnap her from the train depot.”

“What happened, is she all right?”

“She’s fine and at a safe house; the bad guys were captured. We have put a plan in motion from what we learned from them. That plan calls for radio silence for 24 to 36 hours. You know what that means.”

Liz knew what it meant, “But why?”

“Look whoever took out the contract probably has a connection inside the Academy, or it could be as simple as forwarding the names of new students or anything unusual. The likelihood of active sabotage is low; it’s more likely a pencil pusher somewhere making a few extra bucks a month.”

“I understand that …”

“The contractor thinks his guys' succeeded and he will call them tomorrow with more instructions. We also know the address of the house they were going to take Atalanta to. Bottom line is, we are monitoring e-mails out of Whateley, surveillance at the Boston house, and the phones the contractor calls. This time tomorrow we should have a name at Whateley, who owns that house in Boston, at least an area code for the contractor, and last but not least, background information on the three that we are holding.”

After Manny hung up from talking with Liz he dialed a number he knew from his days at San Diego.

Again I want to thank my co-conspirators in getting this story posted. I'm not sure if I need to mention that this is copyrighted and the characters are from my imagination.

The plan starts to come together and Atalanta finds she has more resources that she thought. This offering has some explanation and one of my favorite scenes. See if you can guess that scene; I believe that is starts to give some insight into who she is.

Chapter 7

“You know what time it is?”

Same old Nick, blunt and to the point.

“Yeah,” Manny drawled unperturbed, “I do, don’t you know.”

“Nick its Manny-Manny Black …Hawk.”

Nick O’Reilly, Director at DARPA's tone softened, “Manny you old dog what the hell are you up to? Are you ready to reenlist yet?”

“No, not yet but that’s not why I called, I need your help.”

“What do you need,” Nick asked his tone turned serious.

Manny brought him up to date on Atalanta and her miss-adventures on the train, twice at Boston, and lastly at Dunwich. What Manny wanted was a tap on the three cell phones and email monitoring from Whateley.

Nick was happy to help. Nick’s daughter Nikki was at Whateley, and breaches in their security concerned him from a father’s point of view. Tied closely with that was the understanding that Whateley was neutral and off-limits, and that ban included Dunwich. Manny gave Nick the names of the three hired hit men to bring up their military records. Phone tracing and taps was a little more problematic but a discreet call off the books would take care of that.

“Anything else,” Nick inquired after Manny finished with his list.

“I don’t think so, I am about to call another person to get information on the house they were going to take Atalanta to in Boston.”

“Well why don’t you give me that information too and we can compare notes.”

After he had completed jotting down the information Nick asked Manny, “How did you get hold of this information?”

“Atalanta, she called me and gave it to me.” Manny continued adding in a whispered hushed tone, “I’ve trained a lot of damn good soldiers in my time and I’ve seen my share of warriors-I’d like to think I am one- but this girl is in a different class.”

Nick agreed, “I met her and her mother in Utah and flew down to New Mexico with them. I persuaded Mrs. Reid to send Atalanta to Whateley. The tales I heard from Fife’s posse members sounded like tall tales.”

“I guess you have heard of her desert adventures.”

Nick nodded over the phone then answered, “Some of it.”

Manny replayed that night from the Big City to the big desert trip that he and her Mom took, and the sight of the procession in the stark desert landscape, “…like from a Hollywood scene,” Manny intoned.

“She was lucky that in breaking that man’s collarbone and damaging his partners hamstring that she set up a tension between them where it hurt one to travel fast and it hurt the other to go slow.”

“And placing the slow guy at the front and the fast guy at the rear was brilliant.”

“It was genius too, tying the three rider’s boots together under their horse’s belly.

“I know,” Manny agreed, “she had her hands full supporting the twins on her horse, but by separating the men into three factions with interests that conflicted she eliminated their options at escaping.”

“What do you know about her,” Nick inquired of Manny.

“What do you mean,” Manny’s words were clipped.

“Relax Manny I wasn’t dissin’ your girl. My Nikki is a changeling too. Nikki’s complete change took close to a year and her magical abilities occurred right alongside them. Mrs. Reid didn’t say much about Atalanta’s change on the helicopter ride over. It might help us to help Atalanta to know more who Alan was immediately before, during, and after her changing.”

Manny relaxed, it was a reasonable question. “They hid it well from me and from everybody on the ranch. Judy, the ranch owner knew, Lindsey and her mother knew too, and then they told me. The changeling event happened their first day there and the similarities between Alan and Atalanta were enough that no one ever caught on. Mrs. Reid in her capacity as a doctor certified that Alan was born intersex, and at puberty her body changed to female with the influx of female hormones.”

“I thought she exaggerated with that portion of her story, a case of CYA, but I did some research about intersex seeing as how I have some personal experience with Nikki. In a nutshell …” Nick left that metaphor hanging. “Briefly a child’s genitalia can sometimes be confused until puberty.”

“It is likely that it would never have surfaced but for the gunshot wound she received rescuing her mother,” Manny continued. “As Liz explained it to me Atalanta’s body went through much what a normal person’s body does at puberty if they have the intersex condition.” Manny paused to clear up any misunderstanding, “I should point out what I say or observe are conclusions I’ve drawn, and may or may not be accurate.”

“Understood, please continue.”

“Well Nick you aren’t the only one that has been reading up on concepts, concepts I wouldn’t have considered a year ago. The way I see it the world is made up from five planes of existence. Those are, starting from the bottom and going up, the physical, the ethereal, the astral, the spiritual, and finally the mental plane. Each level is governed by the laws of physics but to differing degrees. An example is quantum physics at the higher levels. And each level can interact with us on the physical, again to varying degrees or vice versa. I think Alan-Atalanta’s physical change was controlled through the ethereal plane as that level closely resembles ours. Her results are within what you expect to find with a normal intersex condition, whatever normal is. Now she may be a mutant if the BIT or body image template and gene theories are accurate, as she apparently imprinted on Atalanta, or else she contains Atalanta’s DNA which was catalyzed by some force, probably from this ethereal plane or higher.”

“Manny, let’s cut to the chase! Enough with the jargon and theory just give me your elevator speech.”

“Alan wasn’t athletic: Atalanta is. Alan was passive: Atalanta isn’t. Alan wasn’t interested in contact sports, Atalanta thrives on it. Alan was brown haired and blue eyed, Atalanta is redheaded with green eyes.”

“Not anymore from what I saw of her,” Nick corrected, “Her eyes are now gray with some green-blue flecks and I think the hint of another color.”

Manny swore, “Well you know as much now as I do except that girl never ceases to amaze me. Most recruits take years to learn the subtle clues that Atalanta picks up naturally.”

“A natural you mean.”

Yeah, Manny knew what he meant. The Pareto Principle worked in warfare too. 20% of the soldiers made 80% of the kills, though privately he thought it was 5% made 95% of the kills.

He changed the subject, “How’s Nikki doing these days, and is she coming home for Christmas?”

“A lot quieter than last year I can tell you that,” and he gave Manny a synopsis of Nikki’s freshman year.

“I would hope this year is quieter than last year,” Manny laughed.

“I hope it stays that way with your Atalanta enrolling. She’s a sophomore, too?”

That was true Manny realized, he had come to think of her like a daughter or kid sister at least.
“I do feel a responsibility for her. You’ll call me when you have something.”

“I sure will and you’ll call me if anything breaks on your end.”

“You’re closer than I am,” Manny replied; he wasn’t sure if Nick knew he was coordinating this long distance, “I’m finishing up here on the West Coast.”

“I’m not due to pick Nikki up for the holidays until a week from now. What about Mark?”

“They’re watching that house in Boston.”

“So who’s doing our boots on the ground report?”

Manny answered simply, “Atalanta.”

“I see but shouldn’t she have backup since she is the target?”

“From her description, the location she chose for her camp is ideal; one way in and it’s easily defensible. She’s cool under pressure and a dead shot, though I hate to think of her having to kill someone. She set up a security perimeter and tomorrow she will look for a backdoor to her rabbit hole.”

“You’re good at this you know,” Nick remarked, “and you enjoy it too.”

Manny admitted both statements were true, but he didn’t like Atalanta being put in danger. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Nick agreed.

Chapter 8

I stirred inside the sleeping bag, instantly wide-awake and alert. It was pitch black inside the tent and dark outside. I instantly shifted my sight, the rods and cones in my eyes changing in the low light. The tent’s interior and its contents sprang to life, albeit a monotone, dull world in hues.

I listened, really listened picking up the night sounds and rhythms. One of the horses snorted softly, another gently stamped a foot. The waters of the river murmured rolling over the rocks and lapping at the shoreline. In the distance the mournful wail of a lone wolf lifted on the night air. Somewhere an owl cried, its voice shrill.

I pulled back the covering, rose and dressed quickly in the dark and powered my laptop up and checked my cameras. Nothing out of the ordinary greeted my eyes.

After arming myself, I stood outside my tent scrutinizing the immediate terrain. The spring floods beating against the cliff wall had eaten away the rocky surface at ground level and rising up and outward. Where I set my camp up at was at an inverted bowl that offered protection and concealment from downriver. But not from directly across the river and that was an area I intended to explore with daylight.

Satisfied nothing lay in wait I fed and watered my horses and washed my face and hands in the cold waters. I quickly built a fire and cooked a breakfast consisting of cured meat, powdered eggs, and pancakes which I washed down with water.

My phone rang as I was washing my cooking and eating utensils, “Hello.”

“Miss Reid,” an unknown voice asked. I remained silent not recognizing the number either.

“Miss Reid,” the voice continued quickly, “My name is Nick O’Reilly we met on the ride with you and your mother from Utah to New Mexico. I got your number from Manny Black.”

“I’m Atalanta,” I replied recalling the name, “What do you want?”

“Manny called me last night to help with the phone tap and we’ve run in a bit of a snag. I need the phones. Mark is on his way there to pick up those phones. What did you do with those three men?"

“I left them tied up in the backseat of their car up a logging road.”

“Good they’re still there then.”

“Probably not, I cut the cords on one of them and he has probably untied his buddies by now. But I did take the car keys and tossed them by the roadside. They might have found them by now or maybe not.”

“I need for you to take their phones and IDs and give them to Mark. We’re going to use background information on them to make them cooperate with us and with any luck we might know who is behind this. Whateley and it's students are off limits especially on and near the school.”

Anticipating his next question I told him the logging road was a mile from town, “What time will they be here?”

“They left several hours ago and should be there in about two hours. Where will you be?”

“Tell them to find the logging road and I’ll find them.”

Nick chuckled on his end appreciating the response, “I’ll tell them.”

After disconnecting with Nick O’Reilly, I saddled the gray filly that I rode yesterday and led the other horses across the river. There was some vegetation left and they were less likely to be spotted. I also carried some gear and two rifles with me to stash there.

Crossing back over the river’s sandbar I rode the filly I now called Grey to the end of the beach area and up into the woods. An hour later we struggled out on the trees lining the road’s border. There I dismounted and studied both sides, and the length of the road as far as I could see.

Hunkered down I debated whether to stay put or cross the road to go hunting. I chose the latter moving stealthily into the timber along the logging road. Drawing close to the area where I had parked their car I dismounted and led Grey farther in the trees where she wouldn’t give me away. There I hobbled her and injun’d my way near to where I had left them the previous evening.

I sensed and heard them before their figures came into view. Their clothing was wrinkled, dusty, and their shoes scuffed. The men had blue stubble on their faces with their hair uncombed and unkempt. They were frustrated, tired, and hungry. Apparently they still hadn’t found where I had tossed the keys.

Hunkered down behind the tree line and concealed by a path of bushes I considered my next move. My position was on a bank about 20 yards from the roadside with a commanding view of them, their car, and a clear view of 100 yards of the road leading out.

My ears picked up the sound of a car engine as it revved to climb the sharp incline from the paved road and moments later the crunch of gravel reached my ears. I needed to act fast or these guys would scatter with sound of an approaching car.

I stood up, the lower half of my body hid by the vegetation and held up and jangled another set of keys, “You boys lose something?”

I was slightly forward of the car and they being at the rear turned as one facing me their back exposed to Mark and the team.

They fanned out slightly and the leader, the one I used the hypodermic needle on spoke, “Throw down the keys and we’ll forget we ever saw you.”

“Throw down the keys or what,” I drawled, “You have to have an ultimatum or it just doesn’t work. It lacks credibility. You going to tie me to the railroad tracks, or make me walk barefoot and naked over hot coals. You have to give me something to be afraid of.”

I paused briefly, my eye going to each man and lingering briefly, giving Mark and his men time to creep closer.
I added, “I realize you all are probably new at this sort of thing so if you’d like to take a moment to discuss the ultimatum among yourselves, I’ll wait.”

“What ultimatum?”

“Why the ultimatum that gets me to throw you boys the keys of course,” I replied evenly, “and I’m afraid, ‘we’ll forget we ever saw youʼ won’t fly. First, as ultimatums go, it’s not very threatening, and secondly, I don’t believe that you will ever forget me.”

“You bitch,” the leader took a step forward, “I’ll come up there and rip you arm from arm and beat you like a rag doll.”

“Your boss didn’t tell you about me, did he?”

“Huh?”

I felt a sudden change in the air, the air seemed clearer and sharper; magnifying sounds. I felt like I was on stage wielding my storytelling shtick. The world slowed. The little hairs on my neck straightened and chills ran the length of my spine. From the corners of my eyes I noticed some hawks and buzzards lighting in the branches and one owl. High overhead an eagle circled lazily, watching.

“I’m a woodland nymph, this is my home,” I declared shocked by my words. “Look behind me they are my friends,” I pointed at the growing number of predatory birds perched in the branches. “And him,” I pointed at the eagle, “I guess you could say he’s the general as he has the best view …” A sense of vertigo quickly passed as for a split second I saw us from the air.

Enthralled I continued, “Your boss stepped in it but he doesn’t know it yet. You do. I’m afraid coming up here and tearing me limb from limb is not going to happen. You’ll need to come up with another plan.”

What was Mark waiting for? They were close enough to take charge.

Deciding to go along with whatever game he was playing, I continued my spiel, “Come, come, gentlemen, I don’t have all day. I’m disappointed, what no plan b?”

“Yeah,” the one named Bud spoke, “You come down here.”

“Make me,” I taunted sticking my tongue out. I remained still as did they. It had turned into a Mexican standoff.

“Guys how about some help here.”

Mark and his team moved swiftly and soon had the men handcuffed in the backseat of their car. As they were doing that I retrieved Grey and joined them, handing over the documents and phones.

“Just what were you waiting on,” I demanded of Mark.

“It’s not often we get treated to a performance worthy of Elizabethan Theater, is it men?” A chorus of agreement, whoops, and catcalls followed.

“And the props, how did you get them to cooperate?” I knew he was referring to the timely arrival of the predatory avians.

“Coincidence,” I shrugged, “I don’t know it just happened.” That was true I didn’t know how it happened but none of us were buying mere ‘coincidence.’

“I guess we all better be going, you guys have a long trip ahead and I need to get my camp in order.”

“Here, I almost forgot,” Mark said reaching into his pocket, retrieving a phone, “this is a secured phone. Mr. O’Reilly wanted you to have it.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I replied taking the phone placing in my coat pocket. “And I appreciate your help. All of you guys' help,” I added to his team gathered around.

“It just doesn’t sit right with me that we’re running off and leaving a young girl alone in the wilderness to fend for herself. Even though I have every confidence you will be all right. Still, a person can slip and break a leg.”

Looking at concern on each man’s face, I knew I needed to walk a fine line, “No man …or woman is an island. We’re a team right now. We each have a job to do. Your’s is to get these guys to wherever you’re supposed to get them to and my job is to stay out of sight. I can do that easier alone, and besides I wouldn’t want to sully any of your stellar reputations: especially yours Ben.”

From the gossip I overheard at the Boston house, Ben was a party animal and teased constantly by his companions. They didn’t need a second invite to pile on him with insults and barbs.

“It’s true I could fall and break an arm or leg,” I continued thoughtfully, “but I don’t think so. I’m light on my feet, I have three horses, I can ride a horse with either injury and Dunwich is at most a four or five hour ride. My Mom is a doctor so I have some medical training. No plan is perfect.”

By taciturn agreement we broke up soon after as I gave each man a hug and a handshake.

Swinging gracefully into the saddle, I whirled the horse around and leaping up the embankment, I called back, “See you guys on the other side,” rapidly disappearing into the forest.

“That girl is going to break her fool neck.”

“No,” another team member observed, “she is destined for more than that.”

I meant to post this Saturday but life kept getting in the way. Mostly though its myself as I want to rewrite it again. Again I want to thank all the people that helped me.

Plans are being put in place while Atalanta goes exploring.

Chapter 9

The wind streamed in my face as Grey and I flew across the forest floor. The filly seemed to feel the new sense of enlightenment, of freedom as she lengthened her stride, her hooves barely grazing the ground. I let her have her head for a couple of hundred yards before gently reining her in until we finally came to a walk.

“That was fun wasn’t it girl,” I spoke gently reaching forward and patting her neck. Grey, whinnying her agreement began nodding her head. Dismounting I unhooked the canteen from the saddle and soaked a cloth in water and held it to her nose. After taking a drink I poured out water in my hat and let her drink some.

From there I walked her down to the road where we crossed unnoticed and then into the bowl that led to the river’s edge and my campsite. After unsaddling Grey we crossed the river where I picketed her with the other horses before crossing back to my campsite. Despite it being a wide and deep river, debris and silt collected just below where my camp was set up. Here the water was only about two feet deep and I crossed it, barefoot and with my pant legs rolled up.

After erasing the readily discernible signs leading to the camp I relaxed in the tent to review and wait in the afternoon sun. The camp had its pluses and minus’ and water was the source of both.

Water had carved out the rocky surface to form a cup shape offering concealment and cover but that same action posed threats during the rainy season. But that threat kept the wild animals from using it as a den. I didn’t plan on using it past today.

I reached into my duffel bag and retrieved the book that Audhilde had gifted me yesterday and opened it to read while I waited. The book wasn’t very thick and I read it in about an hour taking note of several items to meditate on.

The first was that, “All warfare is deception,” seemed like straightforward advice while the second item that caught my attention, also in that first chapter, felt like a riddle. “If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him …” Choleric, I knew meant a take charge fiery kind of individual. So, I thought, does that mean to fight fire with fire?

There was more than one personality type, why was only one listed? Could it be the author was proscribing to fight like with like; fire with fire? Or, remembering his warning about deception, just pretending to. The other takeaway from chapter one was a warning Manny had preached again and again about, “no plan survives contact,” or as Sun Tzu explains it: ‘As circumstances favor one should modify one’s plans.’

I knew in later chapters Sun Tzu continues to encourage subtlety in all its forms. Scattered throughout the book was other advice that stood out, knowing yourself and knowing your enemy. A good defensive strategy keeps you from defeat while an offensive strategy helps assure victory over the enemy. He also admonishes to not only win but to win with ease. I was also curious that an innocuous piece of advice at the start of chapter 8 jumped out at me: In war, the general receives his commands from his sovereign or ruler.

Closing the book I stretched, yawning as I put the book back in the bag and rose to my feet to look around outside. I felt like I needed to read that book several times to pull out all its gems.

I paused at the tent’s entrance to open my senses to outside conditions. Satisfied, despite the water’s constant murmur that nothing lay in wait, I opened the flap to walk outside.

I felt restless with the need to be on the move and looking at the sun, still high in the sky; I estimated I had five hours until dark. I doubted I had enough time to find a new campsite and break camp here and setup the new one. But I did have time to accomplish a portion of it by taking some gear with me as I explored the land beyond the river.

I waded across the river to retrieve Grey and the packhorse leaving the third horse behind to voice his protest. An hour later I had most of the staples and non-perishable goods lashed on the pack animal proceeding back to the valley. The third horse whinnied a greeting at us. Dismounting I fed and watered that horse before transferring half the weight of the supplies for him to carry.

From Grey’s back I scanned the landscape noting its features while munching on a protein bar. I led the procession across the valley with the bridles of the other horses tied to my saddle. Scrub brush, stunted pines, and tufts of wild grass dotted our way. Directly ahead and extending to my left rose solid granite cliffs. To my right the cliffs gradually gave way to rolling forested terrain of green. The river ran somewhere between the two formations, unless a tributary joined somewhere ahead.

As I angled the horses towards a notch on the horizon between the grey bulwark and the tree line I reflected back to yesterday at the train station in Dunwich. Two sentences spoken by the would be kidnappers was etched in my mind as were their implications and the reason I chose to shun Whateley for now.

“She looks just like her picture.” In going through their pockets I found the picture. It was the one on my MMID card and school ID. There were no official pictures nor was my name released in the Utah incidence.

“Here comes our ride.” I could still see that green van as it drove up looking exactly like thousands of other green vans. The facts seemed clear to me: They knew my arrival time, had a copy of my ID, and recognized the school van. That screamed a leak inside the school and until I knew more I wasn’t about to surrender my freedom for faux security.

Nope it wasn't going to happen.

I soon came to the banks of the Miskatonic River as it made a sweeping turn west across the granite face of the cliffs. Due north a large creek tumbled down an avenue offered by the forest and joined the Miskatonic farther to my east doubling the river’s size. It was this onrush of water that I suspected caused the erosion in the cliffs where I had camped.

Following the river back towards the direction of my camp I found what I was looking for at the intersection of the two waterways. Set back from the river bank about 50 feet grew a small copse of hardwoods and farther back and higher up, an outcropping of rocks stood guard.

After letting the horses drink I rode up to the plateau to investigate. Once on top, from my horses back I swept the terrain, from the Miskatonic disappearing into the west to my campsite in the southeast. From this location I had a commanding view, though I did worry that the growth of trees blocked my view to the north.

The tabletop like surface about 50 feet in diameter was surrounded on three sides by rocky sentinels. The location wasn’t perfect but the confines of the cave-like structure of the cliffs had me reconsidering spending another night there. From the sun’s position in the sky I had about three hours until dark and just enough time to move.

The sun had already set behind the thin ribbon that was the Miskatonic River and darkness was quickly settling in. But I had my tent set up, cameras in place pointing towards the three approaches. A fire flickered in the pit I had dug; with canned stew simmering in the covered pot resting on the grill.

After I had fed and watered the horses I constructed a temporary corral by stringing ropes between the rocks on the open end of the mesa to let my horses move freely. I had just poured a cup of steaming coffee when the phone rang. Fumbling in my pocket I found the ringing phone and answered it, “Hello.”

“Atalanta?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Atalanta, it’s me Manny. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine Manny, how are things at your end?”

“I’ve good news, not so good news, and no news I guess. The good news is we found the leak in the school and we’re sure that it is coming from an extra email account that has been set up for that purpose. The file clerk has been sending reports to an unauthorized address but that address was established before she started work there.”

“Could it have been done from outside the school,” I wondered.

“No, it was probably done by whoever installed the network,” Manny answered, “the house in Boston you were destined for is owned by Red Bastard Properties; a shell company located off shore. Who the owners are, we don’t know and may never know.”

“Well that is more than we did know,” I said feeling my mood lighten, “what about the phone call?”

“That went well. The call came from somewhere in Nevada. The guys were anxious to cooperate with us and played their part to perfection. They are supposed to deliver you to a destination outside Omaha, Monday evening. You think you can hold out and lay low until then?”

“Piece of cake,” I stated cheerfully, “any more news?”

“Your Mom and Mrs. Carson both believe you are with Mark and his team.”

“How is Mom taking it,” I queried biting my lower lip.

“She is on edge but doing well. I need to hang up now because she is due to call any minute. I have my phone programmed to forward her call to your phone. I’ll call you back after she gets through talking.”

“Okay.”

“Atalanta, remember you are supposed to be with Mark and not alone in the wilderness.”

“I won’t forget.”

“Be careful.”

I will and you do the same. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I didn’t have long to wait before the phone rang. Taking a deep breath I answered, “Mom?”

“Yes. Atalanta, are you all right,” Mom’s strained words reached my ears.

“Mom, I’m fine. You know me; I’ll do anything to get out of school.”

“Atalanta this is serious,” she admonished me.

Properly chided I returned, “Mom I know it’s serious. I was trying to cheer you up.”

“I don’t need cheering up. I need my baby girl safe.”

“Not even a little bit,” I urged.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, “but I’m concerned about that school and whether sending you there was the right thing to do. You’ve had all kinds of people after you since we put you on that train.”

“I know, but such is the life of a mutant ninja teenager,” I intoned. That did bring laughter. We talked several more minutes; I learned she wasn’t happy that Mrs. Carson had waited several hours before calling her about me. We hung up soon after with my promise to call her tomorrow.

Manny’s call came after I finished eating supper.

“How did it go?” he wanted to know.

“All right, I suppose, anything new on your end?”

“Mrs. Carson is spitting nails from what I hear.”

Somehow the image of a bent old granny, her chin stained and leaning on a cane with fire flashing from her eyes found it’s way in my mind. I grinned through the phone at the image.

“Good,” I exclaimed, “maybe by the time I get there she’ll be through chewing.”

Manny chuckled, “Somehow I don’t think you’ll get off that easy. Have you found another campsite yet?”

“I’ve already moved a couple miles north, that cave began to feel more and more like a tomb the longer I stayed there.”
We talked a few minutes longer before hanging up but not before he warned me to be careful. After inspecting the perimeter, I crawled in to my tent and went to sleep. As I drifted off to sleep I laid my plans for the next two days.

I want to thank everyone that helped me with this story. And I also want to thank everyone for reading and kind comments. Believe me they are appreciated especially this one as I have wavered between three versions.

In this chapter Harvard leads Atalanta to meet new friends and school days draws closer.

Chapter 10

Ben Donner found his wife, Eloise on the front porch her eyes scanning the horizon. He stood nearby quietly watching her.

“Ben,” she spoke softly without turning to face him. He walked and stood beside her. After 24 years of marriage and three children he knew Eloise as well as he did himself. She had been distracted and withdrawn for a couple of months but more so the last two days.

Eloise felt her husband’s presence long before he came to stand beside her. She was aware that Ben expected an explanation. She wasn’t sure he would understand but as the head of the tribal council she had duties that reached beyond her household. When she assumed the ceremonial leadership role she had also accepted the spiritual mantle attached.

Her gaze locked on the great bird with the distinctive profile that had just alighted on a branch in an old oak tree devoid of leaves.

Ben turned and looked in the direction she was focused on and he saw the bird too. As it lifted from it’s perch, she turned to her husband.

“It can mean many things,” Ben said, his head tilting with the owl.

Eloise sighed. Ben meant well. “Owls are messengers,” she intoned, “sometimes it takes time to decipher their message. I know our traditions hold them as harbingers of death but that is only a surface prediction. I think this message is that of a blessing, or a curse, and I believe that we can determine which that will be.”

Eloise smiled at her husband her eyes lighting up, “That is why I’ve been in meditation this weekend. I feel we have an opportunity to create a beneficial alliance or create an enemy.”

“So,” Ben asked, “you have any idea what form this message takes?”

“No, I don’t,” Eloise admitted a half smile playing on her lips, “we’ll have to wait and see.”

Harvard and dawn’s early light guided me down a steep trail that emptied into a valley that ran roughly west to east. Harvard had shown up yesterday morning as I was breaking camp. He had flown off in the direction I’d decided on, so I followed him.

For the rest of the day, Sunday, Harvard would disappear only to reappear at regular intervals to spur me on. This morning he had called repeatedly until I had exited my tent.

“Keep your shirt on,” I growled at the pesky bird, “I’m hungry,” and I began building a fire.

He called back at me excitedly before flying off. Shrugging I fed and watered my animals and began breaking camp as my breakfast was cooking. Afterwards I washed the cooking utensils and myself in the creek that I had followed most of yesterday.

I was starting to feel grimy after three days in the wilderness and longer since I’d had a shower or bath. Yesterday Manny and Nick seemed confident that after today I could come in out of the cold, so to speak. I had another mother daughter chat too, wincing slightly that we were misleading her in thinking I was safe in a house somewhere in the Boston area surrounded by my own set of bodyguards.

Riding across pine carpeted woods, crossing rushing creeks, and up, around, and down rocky trails, I had traveled through most of the terrain that surrounded Whateley Academy. On several occasions I had stopped to study the campus wondering which one was Poe cottage, and how I was going to fare.

Today, though I had crossed over a ridge line into a long narrow valley that showed evidence of recent travels. Harvard disappeared into the rising sun while I kept to the trees, but still following the old road.

About mid-morning I crested a hill and stopped dead in our tracks when the old dirt road suddenly became freshly graveled. On my left about 100 yards farther sat the proverbial little red school house, two athletic fields in the back and three maintenance buildings. Farther yet, at the base of the cliffs and beside a rushing stream, another building was erected. Its design suggested a power plant.

I saw no one outside, and then remembered that it was a school day. Kicking my horse into motion we continued to follow the road at a distance. After passing the school house I was surprised to find a well worn footpath on my right, and spanning the stream a pedestrian bridge that led into the woods paralleling the direction I had journeyed yesterday. If the path continued, I felt sure it ended near Whateley.

Ahead Harvard called urging me to hurry. Side streets soon emerged with neat rows of housing laid out on either side. Across the road stood a row of municipal buildings; the sheriff’s office and jail, city hall, courthouse, and town maintenance shops.

The business district was laid out in a square, it’s streets aligned with a compass’ cardinal points with the businesses lining the main streets and the housing set farther back. I identified a garage fuel station and parts warehouse alongside a grain and feed store. Facing it and across the street was a department store and grocer. Situated perpendicular was a clothing and electronics store, and a combination barber and hair stylist.

Harvard was screeching at me perched high in an oak tree with it’s leaves stripped. Jostling my horses into motion we ambled down the street and towards Harvard as he was insistently calling. Again, I found it odd that there seemed to be no foot traffic.

Ben was outside carrying firewood inside to fill the wood box when he looked up and saw the lone rider approaching, leading two horses. The long coat and wide brimmed hat hid the rider’s features. He could tell that the traveler was slim of build and above average in height and most likely young; under 25.

Depositing the wood in its designated place on the back porch he crossed over and opened the kitchen door, “Eloise,” he called, “I think your message has arrived.”

“I know,” she replied softly, “no need for you to wake the dead,” she smiled at him as he came to stand beside her. Both looked through the kitchen window as the horses had stopped at the entrance to their house, and beneath the oak tree where the owl was perched.

“Let’s go and greet our guest,” she suggested moving towards the front door. They walked quickly across the kitchen and living room, opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch.

“Hello, can we help you?”

“I’m not sure,” the rider replied dismounting and removing her hat. A mass of red fiery hair tumbled out, her gray green eyes sparkling. “I’ve been following Harvard; it seems, for the last several months. So here I am,” she added smiling revealing even white teeth, indicating with her gaze the owl.

Both adults were shocked by her quiet air of confidence that belied her tender years.

“Why don’t you come in, rest a bit and tell us about yourself,” Eloise invited.

“I need to look after my animals,” she responded unsheathing and unloading her pistols placing them in her saddlebags and removing a duffel bag tied to the saddle horn.

“Come on in, Ben will look after your horses.”

I saw the two faces at the window and since it was below the tree Harvard had chosen to rest in I stopped. After the figures in the window disappeared I clucked at my horse to move towards the house where the couple had moved to the front porch. They appeared to be in their early forties. He was a giant of a man; close to six and half feet with wide shoulders and narrow hips. The woman was about my height though she was heavier in her lower body. Both had swarthy complexions and dark hair.

After cursory greetings I swung easily off my horse and disarmed, handing over the reins to Big Ben at her invitation and followed the woman inside. We crossed the living room to the kitchen where she invited me to sit at the table.

“You want something to drink and eat?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” I replied.

“It isn’t,” she stated, dishing out a bowl of stew and handing it across the table to me. “You want water or coffee?”

“Coffee sounds good,” I admitted as I took the offered bowl of stew, smelling the aroma of meat and spices teasing my suddenly growling belly.

As I was eating, the big man came in from tending to my horses. I assumed he was the woman’s husband which she quickly confirmed, “My name is Eloise Donner and this is my husband Ben. I’m the head of the tribal council of the Medawihla Indians.”

Implied in her introduction was asking who I was and what was I doing. I dropped my spoon into the empty bowl and considered my reply. By stopping and accepting their invitation I had obligated myself to provide them an explanation.
“Thank you for that food and coffee, it is the best I’ve had in days. I’m Atalanta Reid, and I guess I followed Harvard to your door.”

“Harvard?”

“That big ol’ Owl perched in your tree out there,” Eloise exchanged a quick look with her husband as I added, “He just shows up from time to time and I just sort of follow along when he does.”

“Really, how long has this been going on?”

I sensed more than idle curiosity in her question. I gave them a condensed version of the circumstances leading up to Harvard’s first appearance.

“So you’re a Whateley student then,” Mrs. Donner smiled at me when I finished.

“Yeah.”

“You’re a mutant then?”

“Yes,” I replied cautiously, the MCO and H1 still fresh in my mind.

“Don’t worry we are used to mutants around here,” she smiled assuredly at me. “But what are you doing out here and not in school?”

I recounted Friday’s events, my actions since, and the additional manpower I had called in.

“Mrs. Carson thinks you’re being guarded in a safe house somewhere in Boston but you’re out here in the wilderness instead. She’d be fit to be tied if she knew where you were at instead,” Mrs. Donner continued as a smile tugged briefly at the corners of her mouth.

“With all the recent attempts to kidnap me it seemed the best plan to us.”

“What does your mother think of you, a young girl, gallivanting all alone in the wild?”

Ducking my head I softly replied, “She thinks I’m in Boston, too.”

“You lied to your poor mother too,” she scolded me, her maternal instincts awakened.

A spark of anger jumped into my eyes before I could quench it, and straightening up I bit back a retort, replying mildly, “I guess I did.”

She then gave me a five minute warning and lecture on the dangers a girl faces alone and especially alone in the wild. “You could have gotten lost or broke an arm or a leg.”

“I didn’t though, I can take care of myself and I’m at home with Mother Nature.”

“I’m sure you think you can but all teenagers have an inflated sense of invincibility.”

“Except that I am …invincible that is,” I replied softly leaning back in the chair and grinning like a Cheshire cat. The woman may mean well but her words were starting to tire me.

My reply caught her flat-footed as her mouth twitched calling up a scathing reply. Before she did I changed tactics.
“Mr. Donner you haven’t said anything, do you think I’m a foolish, naïve young girl who’s in over her head too?” I drawled evenly.

He stared at me and then turned to look at his wife before rising from his chair, “Excuse me ladies but I believe I need to bring in more firewood.”

We both turned, silently watching his retreating backside. We quietly studied each other. “Can we start again?” I asked extending an olive branch.

“Okay, I’m Eloise Donner and that big lunk who just snuck out of here is my husband Ben.”

“I’m Atalanta Reid,” I replied extending my hand across the table, “and I seemed to have gotten sidetracked on my way to school.” We were both smiling as our hands clasped.

“That is a man’s greeting, we women are more about hugs,” She invited me rising from her seat. It was true, the custom of extending a hand, usually the right hand, showed that each party was unarmed. A hug was even more intimate and vulnerable.

As Alan, I was suspicious of the motives behind a hug. As Atalanta, I still entertained reservations dependent on the situation or the person. I had no qualms hugging Mom, Judy and Lindsey. Manny fell into the trusted category as did Mark and his guys.

Nevertheless, I returned her embrace.

“Whew girl, you’re ripe.”

“Sorry,” I replied, “but that water was too cold to bathe in.”

“You got a change of clothes?”

I nodded, “yes.” Mrs. Donner pointed at the first door off the kitchen, “That’s our guest bath. Why don’t you go in there and soak and I’ll bring in some towels?”

“Thank you I will,” I returned picking up my duffel bag and heading for the indicated room. Mrs. Donner returned with the towels as I was shaking out my clean clothing and hanging them up.

“I’ll wash those things if you want,” she stated pointed at my soiled clothing. Seeing my hesitation she quickly added, “I was about to wash a load of clothes anyway.”

“Okay thank you very much.”

“You yell when you get in the tub and I’ll come in and get your dirty clothes.” I nodded in agreement and began removing my boots as she hesitatingly queried, “You’re a changeling, aren’t you?”

I stopped with a sock in my hand, sitting on the tub’s edge. I narrowed my gaze, looking up at her giving her question it’s due consideration. I wasn’t ashamed of being either a boy or a girl but I thought by now it would not be obvious.
“Yeah I am, but how did you know? Was it something I’m doing that’s giving me away?”

“No, it’s nothing like that”, she quickly denied but then admitted, “maybe a little. You do have a man’s habit of directly challenging someone, but some women are more direct than others. We also lease some of our lands to the school. Over the years I’ve gotten to know some of the students and teachers and the ratio of changelings is increasing. You needn’t worry though outside of that context I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“That’s good to know,” I responded, “I’m not ashamed I was a boy and now a girl. I’m still the same person inside, and I was happy being a boy, and mostly so as a girl.”

“Just mostly so?”

“Mom and people in general seem to feel I need to be protected; or like a piece of china I might break. Not to brag but I could kick Alan’s rear-end everyday of the week and twice on Sundays.”

“I can take care of myself as well but I let Ben help me; it makes him feel good as a provider and it makes me feel good to feel protected. It’s a male and female thing. Haven’t you had a boy put his arm around you like that?”

The image of Jack giving me his coat sprang to mind and corners of my mouth crinkled in response, “Yes and it did feel good as you say, and I may want it, but I don’t need it.”

“Well I better leave before your water gets cold,” Mrs. Donner returned as she left the room gently closing the door behind her.

Finding some fasteners I pinned my hair up, quickly stripped and slithered into the water, before calling out to let her know I was in the bath.

An hour later I was seated at the kitchen table in clean clothes feeling both refreshed and contented.
“Thank you, I forgot what being clean felt like,” I smiled at Eloise and Ben who were both seated at the table with me.

“You sure clean up good dear,” Mrs. Donner replied adding, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’m going to return these horses and spend tonight in Dunwich, and if everything goes as planned, turn myself in to Mrs. Carson tomorrow.”

“Don’t look so glum,” Mrs. Donner admonished laughing as they followed me outside to where Ben had tied the horses, “Mrs. Carson isn’t an ogre.”

Standing beside Gray I shook Ben’s hand while giving Eloise a hug; “I know and thanks again. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be all right. And,” I cautioned, “Remember, you haven’t seen me.”

Once the village had disappeared from view I placed a call to the outfitter I had bought the horses and tack from and arranged for him to pick me up.

Two hours and five miles later I met him and we soon had the horses loaded and gear stored. I made a deal with him to board and stable Gray through the summer months in exchange for two of his horses back. The sun was just setting behind the mountains as we drove through town.

After we had unloaded the horses we stowed my saddle and gear in a locked private locker. I left my plunder and my two suitcases in there as well while I called the Crescent Cab for a ride despite the outfitter’s offer to drive me into town.
“You’ve done enough already and I won’t put you out anymore.”

The cab pulling in and coming to a stop interrupted more offers as I hurriedly thanked the outfitter again, opening the back door and climbing in.

“Where to Miss?” the woman driver asked me looking in her rearview mirror.

“Where is a good place to eat?”

“The Carriage House is probably the best we have to offer.”

“Thanks, take me there.”

As we turned onto the paved road to town she asked, “Are you new in town?”

“Yeah, I’m new in town,” I replied dryly.

“You parents waiting for you in town?”

I tamped back my irritation at playing twenty questions with this windbag busybody as I wanted to remain as boring as possible. That might not be possible with this driver, but I had to try.

“They’re letting me explore a bit on my own. I’m meeting them tomorrow in Berlin. How about you?” I asked cheerfully, “You live here long, are you married,-any kids, how long have you been driving a cab …” She droned on clueless answering my twenty questions. During the drive I decided she would be lucky to remember her way home let alone remember me.

Breathing a sigh of relief when we pulled into the parking lot of the Carriage House I exited the cab, paid the fare and strolled across the lot to the entrance.

I really appreciate the help that I received in writing Atalanta and to y'all for reading it. The pic is a one off I wanted to show a older version with a hint of bad girl thrown in and this is the best I could find.

A plan doesn't go as expected and Atalanta receives support for her meeting with Mrs. Carson.

Chapter 11

True to her word, the key that Audhilde gave me did fit the outside door to the Owl’s Nest and I quietly opened, closed, and re-locked the outside door. The stairs, hugging the brick foundation wound upward drawing tighter and tighter until it opened onto the Owl’s Nest Reading Room.

The view from the top of the Owl’s Nest was magnificent taking in the town square; its lights and the surrounding countryside. With all the windows enclosing the room and at this height I felt almost like I could fly.

Heavy drapery framed the windows held in place by ties to let in the light, but was easily removed for privacy. At one wall facing north, and looking out on the forest, rested a white board day bed with a row of drawers. In front of it was a rectangular flat cedar trunk decorated with brass hinges and latch.

Inside I found blankets, sheets, and pillows to make the bed ready to sleep in. Closing the curtains I undressed, and donned the flannel nightshirt, placing my duffel bag in one of the drawers built into the daybed. I then turned on the reading light beside the chaise lounge.

Picking up my cell phone I saw the time was 9:45, and later than when Manny had been calling. Even allowing for an hour difference between here and Nebraska, he should have already called with news of the sting. I was debating whether to call when my phone chirped.

“Manny,” I greeted him hastily.

“No,” the voice responded, “it’s Nick, Nick O’Reily.”

“Mr. O’Reilly, any news?”

“Yes,” he replied slowly, “but its bad news I’m afraid. We don’t know if he had a tail on his guys or a sixth sense, but we walked into a trap and he got away, if he was even there.”

“He was,” I stated emphatically, “he wanted to see his handiwork.”

“You seem sure.”
“I am, I don’t know how I know, but he was there.”

“I’m of the same opinion, too.”

“What happened, did anyone get hurt?”

“Yes, those three guys were all killed in the explosion.”

I immediately felt a sinking sensation in my stomach, although I wasn’t sure why. Had I sent them to their deaths? Was I responsible? No, that wasn’t the source of my conflict. They were mercenaries and chose it despite knowing the risks. The pit in my belly grew larger demanding my attention. Suddenly images began forming, first was the desert, the campfire, the gangsters, and the children. Next I saw the sheriff’s posse and me hunkered around the fire in the snow, followed in quick succession by the train figures, the appearance of the MCO in the hotel lobby, and the attack on the safe house. Then it hit me, none of those adventures and confrontations resulted in anything but injuries.
This however was permanent and the gravity of my status sunk in.

I had been silent long enough for Nick to ask, “Atalanta, are you all right?”

“Uh, oh yeah,” I replied distracted, adding, “I’m all right, I was just thinking.”

Nick O’Reilly had dealt with men in all types of situations during his years in government, and he had some idea of their responses under different conditions. But Atalanta was not a man, or an adult, and he had only his daughter Nikki for comparison.

“Nothing you could do about it,” he assured me.

“What is the plan for tomorrow,” I asked sensing his discomfort.

“As far as Mrs. Carson knows you are with Mark and his team. They’re driving up in the morning to pick you up, and then take you to school as if you’ve been with them all along. Where should they pick you up?”

“Why not meet at the train depot?”

“Okay, I’ll tell them.”

Manny called soon after we had hung up and we basically went over the conversation I had with Mr. O’Reilly, with Mom calling soon after I finished talking to Manny.

My conversation with Mom, or should I say her conversation with me, followed a similar path as the two previous calls. She flexed her parental and maternal muscles throughout the call despite my assurances that I was fine. But unlike those calls I could tell that she was becoming agitated or suspicious that we were holding back information from her. I tap danced around answering direct questions, quickly changing the subject whenever I felt she was getting close to the real truth. After 30 minutes of verbally sparing I was tiring under the strain of not revealing too much information.

“Mom, I’m really tired and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. Can we talk then?”

“Of course dear, I keep forgetting that it was you in danger and that you could have been hurt.”

“Mom, it has been hard on both of us.” She agreed, and after we traded I love you’s, we hung up.

By the time I slipped between the covers the time was after 11pm. It had been a long day with Harvard rousing me before dawn, spending time with the Donners, hitching a ride to town, negotiating the sale, and waiting until dark to slip in here. My head had barely kissed the pillow before sleep claimed me.

Chapter 12

I awoke before dawn wondering momentarily where I was before reality pushed aside my confusion. Quickly dressing, I opened the door and was surprised to see the lights on. Audhilde in a white dressing gown was resting on the chaise lounge.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” she assured me rising effortlessly and greeting me with a warm hug. “Come breakfast is ready,” she continued holding onto my hand and leading me into a cozy breakfast nook carved from one wall. The centerpiece was a round mahogany table surrounded by curved padded bench seats and a row of windows in the background.

She sat on one end of the bench and I sat at the other end facing her across the table.
“Did you sleep well,” she asked.

“Like a baby; wow do I feel good. Thank you for a place to rest my head.”

“You’re welcome. Anytime you’re in town, or need space, or just want to visit, the door is always open to you.”

A door opened to admit a waitress carrying a tray of food and a pitcher filled with juice. She placed the tray down on the tabletop and set a plate of food in front of me and a bowl of fruit.
“Milady, will there be anything else?”

“Thank you Melissa, yes, please send in Jeeves.” Nodding she backed away from the table to leave the room.

Audhilde filled two glasses with the aromatic cloudy liquid from the pitcher, “My special mixture; nectar of the goddess.”
Hesitatingly I grasped the glass, eyeing its content suspiciously while slowly bringing it to my lips and sniffing the aroma. Experimentally pressing my lips together I sipped a small amount. Whatever ingredients were in the drink combined to make me feel instantly refreshed. That was my immediate reaction as the liquid swished in my mouth to trickle down my throat. Surprised that the concoction tasted so good, I took a longer gulp and looked up at Audhilde.

She was smiling at me amused at my precautions, “Afraid I whipped up a witch’s brew?”

“Not at all,” I giggled, “I didn’t know if we had similar tastes but apparently we do.”

“I think we probably do.”

I nodded as I used my fork to stab some food from my plate. As I was finishing the meal an inner door opened to admit a black haired man in his middle 30’s, wearing black trousers, a white starched shirt, bowtie, and black coat. He was broad shouldered with a flat stomach and narrow hips, gliding silently across the floor.

The set of his jaw, his carriage, and the clear blue color of his eyes belied a servant.

“Milady you called for my services?”

“Yes, Jeeves I did. I want you to retrieve Atalanta’s luggage from her locker and bring it here. Atalanta be a dear and give him your key.”

I automatically reached in my pocket and retrieved the key handing it over to Jeeves, “It’s in the …”

“The locker at the outfitters,” Jeeves supplied taking the key from my fingers and walking away.

“Dear,” Audhilde began, “you need to look your best this morning when you meet Mrs. Carson. I had Melissa draw you a bath and I’ve taken the liberty of laying out a school uniform for you to wear.”

Using a linen napkin to dab at my lips and to mask my confusion, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it.”

“…But why am I doing it,” Audhilde finished still with an enigmatic smile on her face.

“Yes,” I returned narrowing my gaze.

“First, I want to assure you I have your best interest at heart and you are under no obligation to follow my suggestions. To answer some questions you might have, I saw which way you left here Friday in the cab, and later I noticed you going out in the truck and horse trailer. Whateley’s uniforms are in their brochures, and on their website, so it was easy to sew up a set. You need to take the lead when you see Mrs. Carson. Looking fresh and made up with school colors gives you a head start. It’ll keep her off balance. Now go get cleaned up.”

An hour and half later I walked back into the room where Audhilde was waiting. Melissa had used hot air, combs, and pins to hold up my hair in a modified upswept hairdo that highlighted my slender curved neck drawing attention to the delicate earrings dangling from each ear.

My eyes and mouth were suitably enhanced to draw attention towards my youth and innocence but with subtle hints of sophistication.

A white ruffled blouse peeked from under a blue blazer, a school emblem on one lapel. Black trousers over patent leather ankle boot lets with 2.5 inch heels completed the look of a prep school student.

“You look absolutely delectable,” Audhilde began her voice lowering, “you’re going to knock them dead.”

I did look good, but was uncomfortable with the attention that went into the effect and that it was sure to draw later. I was reminded of the time Mom had dressed me in revealing layers of clothing for the Saturday cookout which seemed eons past. That also proved to be a turning point because after that guy had tried to grope me at the dance, was when Manny began training me in self defense. I wondered if this would prove to be another departure point.

“Thank you,” I simply replied shifting my weight from leg to leg, my eyes darting around the room.

Audhilde simply smiled, “Your clothes and gear are packed and in the SUV. Jeeves is going to drive you to school.”

“Uh, there might be a little problem; Mark and his team are set up to drive me.”

After calling Mark and coordinating with Audhilde, we settled on meeting the guys at the train station depot and following them to the school. Just before 11am I followed Audhilde and Jeeves out to the back of the store to my transportation; a white Cadillac Escalade limousine that was equipped with running boards that raised and lowered.

“Your carriage waits,” Audhilde announced amused at my expression at the amenities and Jeeves standing nearby ready to assist me into the vehicle.

Turning to Audhilde I gave her a gentle hug careful not to disturb my hair or makeup, “I really appreciate this, but I don’t understand why you are going to all this trouble.”

“You’re welcome my dear and in time you will understand.”

Chapter 13

Jeeves and I had just parked when Mark and his team consisting of two black Chevy Suburbans stopped on either side of our vehicle. We were parked at the train depot lot ready for the trip to Whateley.

“Whoa girl, what happened after we parted Saturday? Guys!” Mark called his team who all came over and crowded around my rolled down window.

“Look at you,” one of the guys remarked, “our little tomboy is a real live princess.”

Mark leaned his head in the window, “Nope,” he declared, “no glass slippers.”

“Hey,” I exchanged jauntily, “I have to keep you guys on your toes or else you’d be taking me for granted.”

“Not a chance of that happening.”

Jeeves clearing his throat,throat reminded us that we needed to be moving. Mark, giving Jeeves a quick once over, a second glance my way, then at his crew,; quickly huddled with his team.

“Just a second,” he called as a flurry of activity began among the guys adding, “I’ll be right back,” then disappearing behind one SUV. Items were being pulled from opened hatches, and in less than five minutes Mark had transformed his team and vehicles from nondescript, to uniforms with a company name engraved on their sports coats, to the reinforcing image of magnetic signs on the vehicle doors.

“Short Executive Services,” I read aloud from his jacket as Mark opened the door sliding into the rear seat beside me.
“We’re using our company image to present a congruent appearance to back up our story, especially fitting seeing how you two are dressed.” Turning to Jeeves he continued, “You don’t mind if I ride in this car and direct traffic as if this was a planned operation.”

An almost imperceptible twitched pulled at the corner of Jeeves’ mouth, “I don’t mind,” he replied laconically.

“Okay guys,” he spoke into his radio, “we pull out together and maintain 20 second intervals and check in with me at 10 minute intervals, sooner if you see anything out the ordinary.”

The procession pulled onto the blacktop in the ordered form and maintained an even and steady interval at 40mph.
As we rode Mark told me to follow his lead when we got there. “It was my idea to hide you away for a couple of days and not yours,” he explained.

“Why, why can’t I tell them what aroused my suspicion? You guys get a kick in the rear while I get a pat on the head.”

“You, Manny, and Mr. O’Reilly came up with this plan, and unless you have a better idea we need to see it through. Besides,” Mark looked around at the plush interior; his trained eye noticed the thick glass and stiff suspension, “you seemed to have gained a friend, chauffeur, and bodyguard since Saturday and this fits in nicely.”

Mark was fishing for information about my benefactor leaving me in a difficult situation. Audhilde had said nothing about keeping her identity secret but I didn’t want to alienate either set of friends. Neither did I want to broadcast that alliance. “Knock it off Mark,” I growled, “if you’re half as competent as I think you are, you have already run the plates.” He had the good graces to duck his head.

Jeeves spoke cryptically from the front seat, “its all right milady. Audhilde owns the Owl’s Nest bookstore in Dunwich and I think she and Atalanta share a common bond with owls. She has the means and the inclination to help. It is as simple as that.”

At that moment Mark’s radio crackled with a message from the lead car, “I see the turnoff ahead.”

“Okay, go as far as you can down the turnoff, and still be seen easily from the road, and wait for us. Jeeves slow down and give them time to get in place.”

“What’s going on?” I queried.

“Ray is a decoy to flush out anyone that might be waiting, thinking you are in that car. When we get to the turnoff, I’ll radio him for the all clear. If it’s clear, we turn off and proceed the rest of the way in a tight formation. If it’s not clear, we drive on.”

“You’d leave them like that?”

“It’s part of the risks,” Mark returned cheerfully.

Up ahead a barely visible sign indicated the Whateley turnoff, a narrow one lane road with the occasional wide turnoffs to let oncoming traffic pass. We got the all clear signal from Ray, with Mark calling school security.

Soon we were traveling in a tight formation until we reached the gates that signaled the school campus. On either side of the entrance, stone walls rose with a pair of gargoyles watching silently as we stopped for security.

After exchanging pleasantries we were invited to follow the school’s security van to Schuster Hall where Mrs. Carson waited. We arrived as class was being dismissed for lunch with students crowding into Crystal Hall, which was adjacent to the administration building.

Jeeves got out and opened my door, helping me out with an assist from the elevating running boards on the SUV that gently lowered me to earth. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked on the spectacle that we had become as students grouped at the entrance to the cafeteria, or at the benches that lined the walk. Other students remembered at the last minute pressing business at the library. Schuster and Crystal hall was the natural hub of the campus and even more so now.

With Jeeves on my left and Mark joining in step on my right from the front of the Cadillac we walked up the steps to the administration building. On point and leading the way was a member of school security as we pushed past the double doors that marked the entrance.

The hall was teeming with students jammed into self forming knots that blocked the flow of other students. To my left a sign read: ‘Mrs. Elizabeth Carson’ and under it an entrance to an inner alcove. The four of us filed past the threshold and into the reception area where the receptionist greeted us, “Go on in, she’s expecting you.”

Feeling both like a prisoner, and like a dignitary, I wordlessly complied feeling it would soon sort itself out. Seated beside the Headmistress were two more members of security; F. Delarose and G. Bardue. Mrs. Carson dismissed our security escort with a wave of her hand. With that same hand she indicated we should take a seat in the chairs provided.

She made the introductions of her staff, “…you are of course Atalanta Reid and these gentlemen are.”

Mark reached into his breast pocket handing her a business card, “Mark Short; Short Executive Services, at your service,” he replied.

“Mr. Jeeves in the service of Milady Audhilde,” added Jeeves in his monotone voice and who also handed her a business card with the bookstore’s name and address printed on it.

“Mr. Short I know your involvement in this, but I don’t know why.”

“That, I’m afraid, is confidential information.”

Mrs. Carson returned stiffly, “I assume this fulfills your contract.”

“It does,” Mark agreed.

“I thank you for intervening on one of our student’s behalf,” she stated her lips thinning, “but now I have to ask you to leave.”

“Of course,” Mark replied, and rising turned to me adding, “Atalanta you know how to get a hold of me if you need me.”
Rising too I wrapped my arms around him, “Thank you Mark, and thank the guys for me,” I whispered.

“Knock them dead, kiddo,” he whispered in my ear.

“You know I will,” I returned louder grinning at him and felt some of the tension leave his body. He smiled back at me and turned smartly on his heel and marched to the door, opened it, and closed it softly behind him.

I reclaimed my seat as Mrs. Carson was asking Mr. Jeeves his responsibility.

“Miss Audhilde gave me explicit instructions to deliver Miss Atalanta’s luggage to her room.”

The Headmistress nodded and spoke into her intercom and a few minutes later a knock on the door admitted another member of security.

“You will escort Mr. Jeeves to Poe cottage and off campus after he delivers Miss Reid’s luggage to her room.”

I arose as Jeeves did and extended my hand, “Thank you Jeeves, and thank Miss Audhilde for me.”

Instead of gripping my hand in the classic grip he gently took my fingers in his and bowing slightly lightly brushed his lips against the back of my hand, “Milady.”

He gently released my fingers turned on his heel and glided noiseless from the room.

Warning Disclaimer: This is the very first story I ever wrote and it was written about 5 years ago and completely reworked three times. The last version is to make this story naturally flow from the first book. I tried to be accurate in the WU but I've learned at lot about Whateley since then but as I was focused on telling the story it never entered my mind to review Whateley physics/facts and my editors weren't familiar with it either . Until it was brought to my attention. As such there maybe errors but I've worried this story to death as it is and I hope it is not too much of a distraction.

Mrs. Carson and Atalanta reach an understanding and Atalanta is taken on a condensed tour of the school.

Chapter 14

I reclaimed my seat amidst the silence that had settled on the room and waited. After it became apparent that I wasn’t going to protest Mrs. Carson cleared her throat, “We have an improvised schedule ready that should get your powers testing out of the way as we really need to get your permanent ID card in the system.”

I was curious at what they’d find, and I wanted the ID for travel, though it chaffed at me, “Good,” I declared.

“Whateley is used to dealing with all types of students, with all kinds of problems and accommodations. We pride ourselves on a program to adapt to any needs while maintaining a core curriculum. That is what this intake interview will accomplish; fill in any areas your application may have overlooked, or changes since.”

“Most of our students here are unusual in one way or another,” Mrs. Carson continued, “But you are unusual in several ways. First we don’t believe that technically you have the mutant meta-gene complex; and thus are not a classic mutant. But you have changed sexes, plus hair and eye colors, and these are genetic markers for mutants. The changes are consistent with an internal bit map and conform to known exemplar behavior.”

Mrs. Carson paused to sip the water beside her elbow and ask, “You follow me so far?”

I nodded; this was what Mom and I had learned from our research. “How can I be a non-mutant but display mutant traits?”

“I didn’t say you weren’t a mutant; just that you don’t have the gene complex.”

“So there are other ways to become a mutant?”

Mrs. Carson frowned.

”Your mother masked your change by declaring that you were intersex, and indeed you may have been, but after almost two years that is impossible to know now. That also hinders us locating and identifying the mutant gene now. Because, this year, over a year plus after your initial change, you are shot and apparently go through another change. Any anomalies we find in your DNA will be hard to trace to either change. Additionally you have no powers testing done nor have you not attended public schools in over two years except a short stint this fall. Is that about it?”

“It is a little more complicated than that,” I admitted.

“Please continue.”

“No offense but is it necessary for them to be here,” I indicated the men. I thought she was going to refuse but after giving each of us long looks she complied.
“Chief, Gunny, I’ll call you later. Chief meanwhile see if you can reach Ayla to give Miss Reid the 10 cent tour.”

“Thank you Mrs. Carson,” I began after were alone, “I don’t how much detail we’ll go into but some of it is intimate details that I’d rather not discuss in mixed company.”

“I understand, please continue.”

“The biggest adjustment I had; was learning to be a girl and all the things that go with that. Mom thought I needed to immerse myself in it, a boot camp for girlhood to bring me up to date with other girls my age. Since Mom is a doctor nothing was off limits, and I mean nothing.”

“So you got the mother/daughter talk.”

“I did. Mom got it in her head that as a girl I might view boys as competitors and not as potential suitors, so she set me up with a date, supervised of course. But as a precursor the Spa held a cookout and dance on Saturday nights that was an unofficial date with this boy,” I felt color rising in my cheeks at the memory.

“Ah I think I see. Your mother kept you too busy to think.”

“Yes and it kept Mom from thinking too. It was several months before I stopped to wonder the why or the how.”

“I thought,” Mrs. Carson interjected, “that your mother decided you were intersex.”

“I think Mom and I both wanted to have a logical answer because people don’t just spontaneously change their sex. At least, not in our world it didn’t happen. Mutants were the last thing in our minds, and didn’t even come up on our radar as a possibility until this past summer. We were researching that likelihood when Mom was kidnapped.”

“From my perspective as the Headmistress at Whateley it is hard to conceive of anyone that doesn’t know about mutants.”

“I feel the government and the media does a good job of selling other options. But back to the reason why I blended in so well, and why mutant was the last thought as the reason I changed. The change started our first day there and only Judy, the owner and a friend of Mom’s, Lindsey, and her mother who worked for Judy, had met me as Alan and knew the truth. My hair color was easily explained away as girls do change their hair color and any differences in height could also be explained with different shoes.”

“So you had just moved out there and nobody there knew you well enough to notice the change.”

“That and Mom and Judy let it be known that I had got sick and I was recuperating, receiving limited exposure for a couple of weeks. By then everyone accepted that Mom had a daughter.”

“Like a perfect storm,” Mrs. Carson mused adding, “and you didn’t have any special powers?”

“The first two months were spent with Mom and Judy tutoring me and me physically recovering. Later at that cookout though, when a creep tried to grope me, I surprised myself when I whipped him. I believe my BIT map is that of Atalanta, her archetype, and if you remember her from mythology she was an equal to any man, and she loved running. At this same time I began to dream of running as a Native American girl, and I began self-defense training with the foreman of the construction crew who also happened to be a former Seal.”

“So you felt any increase in skills came from your training?”

“Yes the running woman from my dreams turned out to be Changing Woman from Navaho lore; she signaled the change from maiden to woman. And 28 days later I had my first period.”

“Is that when the owl appeared …in your dreams?”

“No he appeared the night I went looking for my Mom, and later when I was shot he protected me.”

“Was there anything else that happened that might have revealed a power set?”

“In hindsight there were hints.”

“Hints?” she queried.

“You’d have to know what I was like as Alan to really see the difference. I guess you could say I was a sissy as a boy. As a girl though I love rough and tumble play. And I’m good at it. Manny said I was a natural.”

“It says here you have a tattoo of the owl. How did that happen?”

“It’s not a tattoo, a friend said it is more like a birthmark,” and I told her of the image appearing after the owl covering me vanished.

“No, that’s definitely not a tattoo,” Mrs. Carson stated after examining the image on my shoulder. “You do know the legends and myths about owls?”

“I know most of them,” I replied, “a messenger of wisdom, death, that sort of stuff. I also know its Athena’s sign and I think it could be her seal on me. Or it may not. The Native Americans have owl traditions too.”

“Seal,” Mrs. Carson quizzed lifting an eyebrow, “please explain?”

I shrugged, “after I was shot I had this vision of being in a cavern with a huge owl which transformed into a woman and she said something like, ‘I didn’t think they would try to get to me through you, and I won’t allow that to happen,’ or something to that effect.”

“That makes sense I suppose,” She mused, “have you noticed anything odd or unusual about the image?”

“It seems to respond to threats or perceived threats.”

“Respond in what way?”

“It tingles and I feel an influx of power or energy, and knowledge.”

Mrs. Carson sat back and spun in her chair to face the far wall lost in thought.

“You'll be in Poe, with the other transgendered, changelings, and alternative lifestyles students. Even in today’s enlightened society we still have prejudices and bullies; so the Poe residents are placed together. The other students are led to think Poe residents are just eccentric. We have a lot of powerful mutants on campus and we want all students to stay safe here, so the secrets at Poe are known only to the ones at Poe and certain administrators. Any questions so far?”

“So you are telling me that as a misfit you’re putting me in with other misfits,” I asked grinning crookedly.

Ignoring my quip she informed me that Ayla from Poe was waiting to show me the cottage, the cafeteria, and the special exhibit that all students were required to view. Afterwards, I needed to check in with her to receive my schedule for the week.

“Any questions?” Mrs. Carson asked as she walked me to the door.

“Just one, what are you going to try and schedule for today?”

“I’m going to try to reserve a lab for your power testing if you get back here on time and …” placing her arm on mine, “a word to the wise. We have a group here, the New Olympians, who think they are reincarnations of the original Olympians. Just try and give them a wide berth for a while.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I replied, smiling, remembering to look them up later. Not for a confrontation, but getting to know a potential enemy was always a good idea.

Chapter 15

Outside the office door, a 5 foot tall slender person with spiked black hair, dressed in an androgynous fashion waited, “Hi I’m Ayla Goodkind. You are Atalanta Reid?”

“That’s me,” I admitted smiling at Ayla whose head just barely came past my shoulder. My first impression of Ayla was that she was a tomboy, although being a resident of Poe cottage nothing was certain. The name Ayla suggested a girl, so for the time being that was how I would think of her.

“Come on,” she called over her shoulder leading the way deeper into the building, “we don’t have a lot of time, so you get the short version of the tour.” I followed her as she opened a door that lead into a great room with cloth sofas, chairs, and tables placed around a gigantic fireplace.

“Some students use this as a lounge especially in the winter months when it is so cold outside. It’s a good meeting place to study, or to curl up with a good book, or just to cuddle.” Her words were clipped and staccato, as were her steps.

She led me to a small hallway where a bust of Homer sat in a niche before a set of double doors. Grasping his dome head and pushing back, it swung away to reveal a keyed lock. Ayla produced a key and placing it in the lock, turned it, revealing a keypad which Ayla punched in some numbers and then immediately swiped a card. The metallic echo of bolts being withdrawn followed and Ayla pulled open one of the doors.

“This is the Homer Gallery and each new student is required to be given a tour of its contents within their first 24 hours on campus.”

The gallery was a long room filled with antique looking items, some displayed in individual glass cases, some in rows behind glass. Several individual portrait paintings hung from the wall.

“What you see in here are items donated by prominent Whateley alumni; not necessarily famous, but a who’s who of mutants.”

She continued to talk as I idly noticed artifacts displayed in some of the cases that reminded me of futuristic ray guns.
Ayla stopped her spiel as she noticed my interest, “What powers do you have; I’m a density warper.”

I really hadn’t given that much thought. Exactly what was my forte? The truth was I didn’t know.
Shrugging my shoulders, “I don’t know exactly: Mayhem maybe,” I replied softly.

“Mayhem,” Ayla grinned, “you’ll fit right in at Poe then.”

Ahead I saw a familiar costume draped over an armless and legless frame with its trademark coloring, “I thought he was a comic book hero.”

“Who, Champion?” she looked at me like I had grown another head.

“I guess I’ve lived a sheltered life growing up but he’s been around so long I figured he was just a movie hero.”

“He’s real enough but like you say he has been around since the 30’s and World War Two. Champion is actually several Avatar spirits. The present Champion identifies traits in a person to pass it on to a future Champion. That person is always a Whateley graduate.”

Ayla led me to a large oil portrait of a fit and trim man dressed in officers clothing from the 1800’s with high collar, cloak, and tails. He looked eerily familiar, “Dracula,” I queried.

“Lord Paramount,” she replied, “although his ancestor was Vlad, history has recorded him as brutal, and where the terms Dracula and bloodthirsty originated.”

Ayla next led me over to a display surrounded only by velvet ropes, “Is that …?”

“Yes, that is one metric ton of 16-karat gold bars donated by Gabriella Guzman.”

“Who,” I asked puzzled by the name.

“Gabriella Guzman, the Mexican tycoon. She attended Whateley in the 80’s on a scholarship, and her talent is some sort of Esper ability to predict the stock market. Anyway, she’s made millions and donates a lot back to the school.”

“Cool,” I replied noncommittal.

Ayla looked at me oddly, “That’s the tour,” she stated lamely as we turned and retraced our steps to the double doors where she locked the exhibits up.

“I need to return these keys. If you’ll wait here I’ll be right back and I’ll show you where you’ll be living for the next few months.”

Inside the entrance to Poe, on a pedestal, sat a bust of the legendary author, the cottage’s namesake. I stopped for a moment to study the image. His carefully manicured moustache contrasted sharply with his wildly untamed hair, but it was his deep-set expressive eyes that held my attention.

“Atalanta, meet our housemother, Mrs. Bella Horton, her word is law here.”

Mrs. Horton had a presence about her from years of having seen just about everything and every trick under the sun.
“I’m pleased to meet you Mrs. Horton,” I greeted her.

“That remains to be seen,” she shot back a rueful smile playing across her face, “it depends if you can keep your nose clean.”

“Ayla you better get to your next class, I’ll show Atalanta to her room.”

“Thanks Mrs. Horton. I guess I’d better. Atalanta I’ll see you later.”

“Later,” I agreed, “and I’m sorry I made you late for class.” Ayla waved off my apology as she left for class.

Mrs. Horton explained that the first floor was the lounge, and because of the nature of Poe’s secret, was as far students and faculty not of Poe were allowed. Thus the tales of Poe grew embellished with rumors and innuendo, but nowhere touching close to its mundane secret.

Once we were on the second level, as she was leading me towards my room, Mrs. Horton continued with reciting the house rules, “This level is for incoming freshman and some sophomores that haven’t mastered their power level yet, so furnishings and accommodations are rather plain.”

“Is that because they often get destroyed?”

“Atalanta you catch on quick,” and anticipating my next question added, “we didn’t know what powers you have or any new powers you might have gained in the last couple of months. To be on the safe side we placed you on the freshman level.”

“That seems reasonable,” I agreed as we walked to the end of the hall where my room was located and the farthest distance to the communal shower. Removing a lanyard from around her neck she used the key fastened to it to unlock and open the door.

It was shoehorned into the floor’s design carved from leftover space with just enough room for a single occupant. Actually it was probably the janitor’s closet at one time. Long and narrow the room had a bed along one wall, and at its foot, an apartment sized refrigerator, desk and a desk light. A chest, dresser, and wardrobe occupied the left wall. A door at the far end of the room opened in to a small bathroom and the room’s only window. Two hard backed chairs, one at the dresser and the other in front of the desk, near the foot of the bed, completed the furnishings. My luggage and duffel bag were on the bed. Jeeves had placed a case of the Goddess Nectar beside it.

Reaching into her pocket Mrs. Horton handed me a key to the room, “I have a master key to all the rooms here, but each room has it’s own lock. We don’t have any thieves here but if you value privacy you might want to keep it locked.”

“Thanks,” I replied taking the key and walking farther into the room, “I won’t have to worry about getting lost in here, will I?”

“No dear you won’t. I’ll leave you here but you’ll need to hurry to get anything done today.”

I nodded walking into the tiny bathroom and inspected the window and its view I returned to the room and left locking the door behind me to find Mrs. Carson.

These three chapters are a little longer than ideal but the next chapter is about the same size as these three but it seems like a logical place to pause. Atalanta meets fellow Poe residents, her first meal in Crystal Hall where she exchanges greetings with a bully. Mrs. Carson flexes her authority and accuses her of being an artist. Her testing results are mixed and unpredictable. I hope you all enjoy these chapters.

Chapter 16

Several hours later I returned to Poe cottage, walking briskly between Doyle Medical Complex and the cottage; hoping to burn off the pent-up frustration that that Ophelia Tennent had caused. I hadn’t expected a gynecological exam, and certainly not one as invasive as the one she performed. Mom had performed all my prior exams and none were as complicated as the one Dr. Tennent had completed.

I felt violated: used.

Pausing at the top of the steps to release the anger I felt building inside me, I used a series of deep breathing exercises until I’d finally bled off the surface tension. Opening the door, and making sure I carefully closed it, I strode purposely across the lounge, taking the steps to the second floor landing two at a time. My heels rang loudly along the hall, and again minutes later, as I retraced my steps to the showers, carrying a change of clothing in my arms.

Thirty minutes later I was fully dressed in my signature style; wide brimmed black leather hat and black boots and pants and wife beater tee. The steam rushed out the door ahead of me as I emerged to find Ayla waiting.

“I thought you might like some company for supper,” she nervously laughed.

“Sure,” I replied quickly, “I just need to put my clothes away.”

“Okay just meet us in the common area, on the first floor.”

“Us,” I echoed.

“Team Kimba, we met on our first day here and just clicked together. We had plenty of practice watching each other’s backs. The other odd thing is we are like you, all of us are changelings.”

Returning to the common landing, I spotted Ayla in a corner with a host of people lounging around in chairs, sofas, and two hammocks suspended crazily from the ceiling. Combat Finals was over and many of the semester’s final papers and tests had been turned in or taken, and many students were winding down for the holidays.

Ayla saw me about the same instant and called me over all eyes turned to me and conversation died out. “Everyone this is our new girl Atalanta Reid. Atalanta meet our group, that redheaded goddess is Nikki, aka Fey, beside her is Bunny and Riptide. Next to them are Toni, or Chaka, and Chou and Molly. The one hanging out,” pointing to blue haired girl hovering, “is Billie, aka Tennyo. That good looking guy over there is Hank, codename Lancer, and over there,” indicating a pile of clothes on a sofa, “somewhere, is Jade. Hey JADE,” Ayla said raising her voice, “meet the new girl.”
The pile of clothes stirred and an incredibly youthful face peeked out followed by the rest of the girl who looked about 12.

“Pleased to meet you all,” I replied looking over the diversified group.

“You’re the girl they tried to kidnap at the Dunwich station,” Nikki stated and I nodded. “You know Ayla’s jealous that you have a larger entourage than she does. Even she doesn’t have the balls to show up here in a limousine escorted by bodyguards.”

“It just happened,” I replied softly adding, “I picked up some enemies on the train trip out here, but some friends as well.”

“And apparently one of them is my Dad.” That statement set off a round of questions.

Nikki explained, “Dad called me at lunch to tell me, and this is the first time we’ve all been together in one place.”

“Who is your Dad?”

“Nicholas O’Reilly,” Nikki replied.

“He’s your Dad? I talked with him a couple of times over the weekend. And I met him last month when he took Mom and I home from Utah in a helicopter. That was a cool ride.”

“I didn’t know that; how did you and Dad meet?”

“Well it was like this …” I recounted the story of my Mom’s kidnapping and what had transpired since, leaving out Audhilde and the Owl’s Nest in Dunwich. After finishing I rolled up my sleeve revealing the image of the owl.

“Harvard,” Ayla mused, “how did you come up with that name? The Harvard surname derives from Hereward which literally means ‘army guard’.”

“That’s creepy.”

“It just came to me naturally, like it was his name,” I replied stunned by the implications in the name’s meaning.

“Enough of the chit-chat, I’m hungry let’s eat.” Billie declared floating down from the ceiling where she had been hanging out.

“You’re always hungry,” Jade teased as we left to go to Crystal Hall. The group split into pairs with Jade and Tennyo in front and Fey, Chou, and Molly lagging at the rear. Hank fell in beside me as I listened to the banter forged from shared experiences.

“Did you say you were an Army brat,” Hank asked me as we walked.

“Yeah, I changed schools about every couple years it seemed like. Both of my parents were in the service. Dad was killed in an accident in Iraq a couple of years ago this month.”

“I’m sorry about your Dad. My Dad is in the Army too and we changed schools a lot.”

“That sucks,” I replied after Hank finished telling me about how his little brother lied about him and got him into trouble at Fort Bragg.

I walked in the cafeteria beside Hank as we lined up to order buffet style from the trays packed with food. We indicated what we wanted and it was heaped on a plate and passed to the next worker in line. At the end of the assembly our individual trays were given to us where we carried them to the cashier where the drinks were dispensed.

Still chatting with Hank I followed the group to a table on the second floor. After we were seated I watched with interest at the differing amount and kinds of food represented. Billie ate enough food for a dozen; Nikki seemed to only eat vegetables.

“High metabolism,” Billie explained looking up momentarily from her second helping.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare but I don’t see where you are putting all that food,” I apologized smiling. Billie shrugged off my explanation as she continued her assault on her food.

I couldn’t help noticing that my supper consisted mostly of meat while Nikki’s was vegetables, “Are you a vegetarian,” I asked her.

“I am now; it’s a side effect of the changes I went through. Meat just doesn’t taste good and I can’t wear synthetics; it breaks me out in hives.”

I shuddered at the thought of giving up meat, my ‘ratty ole’ nightshirt, or my trademark hat and coat, “Sorry,” I mouthed silently.

As I ate I felt we were being watched, and after finishing eating I asked the group about it.
“We have a reputation of sorts- we being Team Kimba,” Jade explained, “and the way you arrived today has set you apart from most new arrivals. Most of us don’t have limousine and bodyguard services: Ayla is probably the closest we have of a celebrity here. Everybody wants to know who you are and you upped the curiosity factor by showing up here out of uniform.”

“You’re right, this,” I indicated my clothing, “is a statement. I didn’t want to come here but I’m here now. It will be a process but I hope to make the best of it in time.”

After that brief interlude into the semi serious the conversation turned back to the silliness of the holiday season.

Chapter 17

On the sidewalk, outside of Crystal Hall groups of students organized, clustered around the lighted areas. They were bonded by experiences or cliques, united by age and temperament, and the group I was in included Hank, Jade, and Billie. Billie was going home to Colorado, Hank was staying on campus and Jade was deciding whether to chance another Christmas with Nikki, reminiscing how the last one went where St. Louis was pretty much destroyed, but Billie almost tore a hole in reality.

“Wow you guys are unbelievable,” I marveled as I felt a tingle spread outward from my body.

Jade who had fallen into step beside me, “That’s …”

Suddenly a tall girl appeared from the shadows jabbing her hand at either me or Jade, “Seriously you expect …arr’gh,” she cried as I shifted grabbing the offending hand, Using her momentum, and my strength and training, I forced her to turn her body, bringing her arm behind her shoulder and pushing her face first into the brick wall.

Conversation died out as the girl’s cries ceased with her struggles to free herself.

Suddenly, the sea of students parted as Gunny Bardue strode forward, “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“This girl was just demonstrating her love of Whateley for me by kissing the bricks.”

“I believe she has shown enough love, don’t you Miss Reid?” Bardue asked, a smile forming that never left his eyes. I nodded releasing her arms and taking a small step back, balancing on the balls of my feet.

The girl wasted no time in retribution, as she spun using her left hand to try a backhand blow. Prepared, I crouched, sticking my leg between her legs, causing her to stumble into Bardue and sending both sprawling to the ground. She lay prostrate on Bardue.

“Tatiana’s in a demonstrating mood tonight,” someone in the gathering crowd shouted. The snickering quickly died as Elizabeth Carson broke through the student body, demanding, “What is going on here?” while glaring at the assembly who quickly found somewhere else to be.

“Everyone, move along,” she ordered, “except for you Kimbas; and yes that means you and Molly, Chou. You stay too Miss Reid.”

“Now,” Mrs. Carson began after Tatiana and Bardue had regained their composure and their footing, “somebody tell me what is going on here.”

“I’m afraid it is mostly my fault Mrs. Carson,” I spoke, “Tatiana and I were exchanging greetings …” several Kimba members snorted, turning away, “and I’m afraid I don’t have full control of my powers yet, and,” stepping forward I snapped my fingers and brief flash of light exploded, briefly blinding Tatiana.

“Oh, dear,” I moaned, “there I go again,” as I steadied Tatiana to keep her from stumbling. “I seem to have two left feet tonight.”

“So, I see,” Mrs. Carson replied dryly, “Sergeant, anything you want to add?”

“Not really,” Bardue admitted haltingly, “I walked up and Tatiana stumbled into me as Atalanta said.”

“Tatiana anything you want to add?”

She glared at me, “No, it was an accident.”

“You may leave, then.” Mrs. Carson turned to me, “Miss Reid a word in private,” and before she guided me out of earshot of the others, “Mr. Bardue I’ll need a word with you, later.”

Tatiana stalked off while Team Kimba carefully studied star patterns.

“Miss Reid, I am not a fool, so please do me the honor of not treating me like one,” Mrs. Carson demanded once we were out of earshot, “what happened back there between you and Tatiana? I don’t want to hear anything about greetings nonsense, either.”

I giggled my eyes shining, “I don’t know what to tell you Mrs. Carson, we did exchange greetings.”

“And why didn’t you mention you used magic?”

“It was as much a surprise to me as it was to anybody, but I didn’t mean to bring Sergeant Bardue into it.”

“Atalanta I don’t know what game you are playing, but many of our students are dangerous, so be careful. Now, you’re free to join your friends.”

“Well,” Jade asked when I joined her at the stargazers club, “what did Mrs. Carson say to you. How much trouble are you in?”

“Trouble? I don’t know. I’ll probably learn how much tomorrow. She just asked me what happened. I told her we were exchanging greetings, but I don’t think she believed me.”

“That was a neat light trick, how long have you been practicing it?” Nikki asked as we continued walking towards Poe.

“I still have no clue what happened …or how.” At her quizzical lift of one eyebrow I added, “Hey, I’m just a babe in the woods.”

That declaration was greeted by good natured jeers. Hank leaned in to me and whispered, “That’s all right Atalanta I believe you are a babe.”

Wow, was Hank flirting?

Sergeant Gunny Bardue stepped out from the shadows and fell in beside Mrs. Carson.

“What exactly happened between Atalanta and Tatiana, Bardue?”

“I don't know what started it, but when I got there Atalanta had Tatiana face planted in the wall. The kid thinks fast on her feet; quick as a flash she says, ”That Tatiana was demonstrating her love for Whateley.”I suggested that Tatiana had shown enough love for Whateley and then just as quickly she released her. Tatiana tried to sucker punch her, but instead ended up on me. That kid has had some combat training.”

“You sure?” Mrs. Carson asked.

“Yes I am.”

“That's not in her file. Wonder what else she forgot to mention. Her father was an army colonel, maybe he taught her.”

“No,” Bardue countered, “what I saw was SF training, and another style that is familiar.”

“Then why didn't you correct her when Atalanta told the fib about using that little bit of light to blind Tatiana.”

“Several reasons; the main one being she left herself open.”

“Hmm, I think I see what you mean. What's the other reason,” Mrs. Carson asked curious.

“I think she was trying to diffuse the situation telling that fib and I don't think she meant for Tatiana to get tangled up with me.”

“I agree. We have to work hard to keep these kids in line though. I think I need to have her powers testing done immediately; we can't have a dangerous mutant running around that has no idea of her power.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Oh and Bardue, I need you to be at my office at 8am tomorrow.”

“Yes ma'am,” though he inwardly groaned. It was never a good sign to have special duty with a mutant student.

I had finished unpacking and hanging up my clothing, and walked to where most of Team Kimba was lounging in their corner. I sat and listened to their tales from last year. Billie grinning from ear to ear looked over at me and said, “If you weren’t so slow you could have been with us.”

“No thanks, I had a hard enough time adapting, and enough adventure, but it sure sounds like if I had been here I would have had to adjust quicker. But I don’t know about the company I’d have to keep,” I teased. Cushions filled the air and rained down on me.

Mrs. Horton emerged from her room and called me over, handing me a note, “Your schedule has changed Atalanta. You're to report to Mrs. Carson's office at 8am for powers testing.” Nodding thoughtfully I looked at the note, “Thank you Mrs. Horton.” I stood there for a moment seemingly lost in thought as Mrs. Horton shut her door.

“What was that all about?” my friends wanted to know.

“Oh, this?” I asked, waving the note. “It’s just the grownups establishing who's in control. My schedule has changed. Powers testing has moved up and it’s all day.”

“That sucks,” Ayla noted.

I nodded, “I kinda’ expected it though.” I got up, yawned and stretched. “I better get some sleep, and I need to call my Mom. See you all in the morning,” I called back as I sauntered up the steps.

Chapter 18

Security cameras were trained at the entrance hall of all the school’s cottages and at various intervals around campus. Anything that moved was recorded and could be viewed live in campus security center as well. That was in addition to temporary security cameras that recorded known trouble areas and almost guaranteeing anyone sneaking out at night after the midnight curfew was sure to be recorded unless you knew where to look.

At 3:12 am a dark figure glided softly and quickly down the hall, keeping to the shadows and onto the landing. A shroud or cape draped the shapeless form which seemed to brush the floor. The mist paused before Mrs. Horton's door and noiselessly opened the door, disappearing inside. Moments later the ground floor window slid open and the figure dropped quickly and silently, blending into the background.

Thirty one minutes later a shadow hung precariously outside a 4th story window, testing its defenses. Forty feet and slick unbroken walls presented its own deterrent; for the window was easily opened. Resting on the window ledge the figure took in the room and it’s occupant. The images and emotions that filled the room caused the figure to shudder, and a few seconds were lost as balance was reached for and achieved. In one swift motion the figure rose higher than the sill and glided through the window it’s fingers brushing the top sill adding momentum and direction; the shadow landed in the darkness.

Steady rhythmic breathing continued as the figure descended on the sleeping forms on the bunk beds. A finger jabbed into a pressure point under the jaw line quickly followed by a soaked handkerchief to her face. The procedure was repeated on the much larger person on the bottom bunk. Using materials found in the room the girl on the top bunk was tied and gagged. The figure rummaged in desk drawers finding a magic marker and construction paper. The shadowy figure drew a design on her face and quickly wrote messages on the construction paper, one which was suspended between bunks. Another pasted to her nightshirt. Several others posted their commands/warnings.

Then, just as suddenly, the figure disappeared, and at exactly 4:29 appeared outside Poe cottage.

Wednesday morning I woke at my usual time, and listened to the building waking up, greeting a new day. I heard voices that seemed to be coming from the front lawn and I padded to the room’s only window to look. From the view through the window I saw Fey, Chaka, Jade, Chou and Tennyo on the front lawn begin stretching and warming up. I did my business, dressed, and walked downstairs and out the front door. I stood and watched as they did what seemed to be ordered forms.

I began to immediately stretch and when they finished I asked, “You guys do this every morning?”

“Weather permitting yes.”

“Can anyone join?”

“Sure you’re welcome. We’re usually are out here by 5:30 and finish at 6. That gives us time to get showered, dressed, eat breakfast, and to our first class on time.”

“Cool, I appreciate it,” I replied as I began practicing my forms that I had spent the last 18 months perfecting. It was a routine designed for efficiency and for effectiveness and took 10 minutes to complete.

“Is that it,” Chou smirked.

“It is the way I was trained,” I replied adding, “I have a different 10 minute routine for each day and I spend the rest of the time running.” As I finished talking I started running opting to travel a short run around the campus.

Less than hour later I was out the door of Poe dressed in my habitual pants, top, boots, overcoat, and hat striding purposefully towards Crystal Hall for breakfast. As I did I noticed a commotion towards Melville cottage.

Inside the cafeteria I quickly got in line and got a plate of food and went looking for the table where I had eaten last evening with the members of team Kimba. The five members that were on the lawn this morning were seated and eating. I walked over to them, “Mind if I sit here,” I asked indicating an empty seat beside Nikki.

“No, not at all,” Nikki smiled.

“Thanks,” I replied sitting down and digging in.

“There was some commotion over at Melville this morning,” Chou commented looking up from her plate at me.

“Oh, what kind of commotion,” I asked innocently.

“I don't know the details but Tatiana is mixed up in it.”

“Tatiana? Good for her. Wonder what mischief she is up to now,” I responded wide-eyed rising from the table. “I have to be going. It wouldn’t do for me to be late this morning.”

The walk to the Headmistress’ office was a short one, “She’s expecting you, go on in,” her receptionist said. Nevertheless I knocked before opening the door.

I was surprised to find Sergeant Bardue waiting in Mrs. Carson's office as I closed the door behind me.

“Sergeant I apologize that you got caught in my and Tatiana’s discussion yesterday. That was not my intention.”

“I didn't think it was,” he acknowledged.

I turned my attention to Mrs. Carson, “Ma'am?”

“After that incident last night we thought it best to get your powers tested and classified before your academic testing fully begins. The Sergeant says you have combat training.”

I centered myself breathing deeply and feeling the flow of chi into and out of my body, sensing its movement through my body testing for a choke point. Finding none I began channeling reserves of energy, filling me with an excess of energy that began to bleed off before I mentally turned down the stream to a trickle.

Both the Sergeant and Mrs. Carson felt and saw the difference in Atalanta who then smiled at them gently, “One of many things my instructor taught me.”

Bardue and Mrs. Carson hurriedly exchanged sideway glances, “What else did you learn?”

Instead of answering her question I instead turned to Bardue, “You’ve spent time in the military Sergeant.”

Bardue responded quickly, “You’re right I am military trained but that was years spent in the effort. I am just trying to learn how much training you’ve had, and in what.”

Manny had instilled a sense of caution in me and I carefully crafted my response.

Smiling I replied, “Standard fare I suppose I really don’t have anything to compare it with,” hoping my smile diffused the words.

They didn’t.

“This is serious business,” Mrs. Carson frowned, admonishing me.

“Well,” I began, “Manny began training me soon after my change and between his tutoring and my change, I don’t have a reference point. It feels as if I have always had this ability, but Manny did say I was a natural.”

Bardue’s face paled, “A natural, are you sure that he called you a natural, and not naturally good at it?”

“Nope, he said a natural.”

He and the Headmistress again exchanged quick looks, “You stay away from Tatiana; I don’t need any more trouble from you or her,” she cautioned.

“I have nothing to prove but I will defend myself and my friends, if necessary.”

“Very good, but have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal clear.”

Mrs. Carson elbows on her desk and fingers interlocked, leaned forward, “We had another incident last night, and it involved Tatiana.”

“Oh, what did she do,” I asked after a prolonged silence.

“She didn't do anything,” Mrs. Carson sighed. “Someone broke into her room last night and drew a Snidely Whiplash mustache on her lip.”

A grin spread across my face, “I'd like to see that.”

Mrs. Carson saw the wide open expression; the innocent large gray eyes on the teenager’s face and inwardly groaned. “Drop it,” Mrs. Carson spoke with steel in her voice.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“There was a written warning Tatiana got along with the drawing. How good an artist are you dear?”

“Not good, but good enough to draw a mustache I expect,” I admitted.

“I want you to drop it. Understood?”

“Very clearly,” I replied following Bardue out when Mrs. Carson went back to shuffling papers. Bardue led me outside and we followed the quad to the Doyle Medical complex.

I immediately tensed, “What are we doing here? I had my physical yesterday.”

I meant to post this chapter Friday but I was sidetracked writing the sequel. I tend to immerse myself in my writing and it takes me time to emerge from it and dry off. And I do want to thank Bill for his encouragement and editing book one and Ashleigh for her editing this sequel.

Atalanta is tested for her powers and the results are mixed and surprising. She also reveals her code-name and drops a bombshell on Bardue and Nikki.

Chapter 19

“It is a shortcut to the testing lab,” he replied leading me down a corridor to a series of rooms where most of the testing was scheduled. Bardue opened a door leading to a large room with all kinds of machines in it.

There we were met by a rather chubby fellow in a lab coat, and a tall man flanked by Dr Tennent. A fourth man stood off to one side observing. At a far corner was yet another tech fiddling with some machines. He didn't look up.

“I'm Dr Hewley,” he began rubbing his palms together, “the guy in the lab coat is, “Dr Polland,” pointing to the chubby man, “and the guy in the back is Dr Bellows. He is your advisor. The mad scientist fiddling with the machines is Chris. And I believe you have already met Dr. Tennent.”

“We’ve met,” I admitted dryly.

Now,” He continued unperturbed still beaming, “let’s sit down and get some background on you. We will record this, and for all your power testing you need a codename. Have you picked out one yet?”

I nodded, “I’m partial to Equal,” which raised eyebrows.

“Equal,” the word echoed off each lip, “Why Equal? Codenames usually describe a mutant’s power.” That was Dr Hewley speaking.

“The simple answer is that Equal describes me, and in a roundabout way, my powers. I believe I have a base power set that is nudging the extremes of baseline human, but when I’m threatened I receive help to meet the situation. And the name Atalanta means equal.”

Dr Hewley nodded, “let me start with what I've been told and you jump in and correct me, alright.” He didn't wait for nods but dove right in, “You transitioned in May of last year at basically the extreme upper limits of human capacity.”

I agreed, “I believe I imprinted on the BIT of Atalanta, an archetype.”

“From your descriptions you fit better as a paragon and exemplar of Atalanta, probably a level one paragon and exemplar three.”

“I believe Avatar two is a better indicator,” Dr Pollard objected, “it seems we’re talking a single spirit and powers just above or at human levels. I agree with exemplar level which includes some regen power that according to her application morphed into healing regen.”

“Good, good,” exclaimed Dr. Hewley,” now let’s get to the second transformation. As I understand that was triggered when your life was in danger.”

“Yes,” I replied shuddering at the memory.

“...and that you have since, gained additional powers; those possibly coming through being imbued, or by an avatar. What I think what we are looking at is an imbued paragon exemplar with acquired esper, healing, warper/energizer, and probably wizard traits all at or below level three.”

“This,” cautioned Dr Pollard, “is preliminary and testing will probably combine or rule out some categories.”

“Atalanta, do you understand the terms and meanings as we use them at Whateley referring to powers and levels?”

“Yes sir, as much as I'm able. I have read the packets from the school.” I hesitatingly bit my lip, “I don't know if it makes a difference but after the sex change I believe I became an Exemplar of Atalanta using her for my BIT, not as an avatar.”

Dr Bellows spoke, “I’d be interested in your description of the difference.”

“Well Doctor, I didn't get noticeably stronger or quicker, what I did notice was an attitude change. An attitude that seems to mesh with what I’ve read on Atalanta. I think I got her body and attitude but not her spirit. With that change in attitude I began to train...like for an Olympic event and it just so happened that a former Seal was available to train me in JKD and combat arts. As a guy it wasn't anything I was interested in but as a girl I couldn't get enough. I also seemed to inherit a love to hunt and train with both modern and primitive weapons. I also found I could track animals and people. At the end of 14 months of training with Mr. Black my senses, mind, and body were well trained and toned, and at the upper level of human capacity. Based on the stories of Atalanta that I’ve read it fits her more than it did me.”

Dr. Hewley interjected, “I believe we are talking about a difference without a distinction but I believe you also had other changes besides sex.”

“Yes,” Atalanta admitted, “my eyes changed from blue to green and are now gray with some green and gold flecks, my hair from light brown to auburn with copper highlights and my complexion from cold to warm. I also believe I picked up some Mediterranean DNA. These changes were for the most part just richer or deeper hues. I didn't change races or get white, green or purple hair. Set against the change of sex it was pretty small.”

Dr Polland added, “Now about your recent change. We understand that happened when your life was in danger.”

I was slow to respond as I relived the events that led to being shot. “My Mom, who is a doctor, was kidnapped to treat a gunshot wound by some people who broke a guy out of jail. I took matters into my own hands to track them down and I managed to rescue her with the help from the sheriff and his posse. After it was all over with, the guy who had been shot shot me with a gun he had hidden under his blanket. He was a member of an earlier group which I also tracked down and captured, that had previously kidnapped a pair of seven year old twins. I guess he was exacting revenge.”

“What happened after you were shot?”

“My Mom tells me that my owl crashed through the window, stood guard over me, and then seemed to disappear. When I came to, this was on my left shoulder,” I replied pulling up my sleeve to reveal my tattoo like replica of Harvard.

I frowned as they all gathered to look.

“I don’t think that is a tattoo,” Dr. Bellows observed.

“It is not a tattoo but I believe it is a birthmark.”

“Well it’s obvious that Athena and the owl are intertwined; it’s her symbol. The owl is a messenger for many cultures scattered all around the globe but for the Greeks it was Athena’s symbol and Atalanta was a protégé of Artemis and not Athena.” Dr. Ophelia Tennent paused in her lecture to direct a question at me, “Why didn’t you point these out while I was doing your physical?”

“It was listed on my medical records that my Mom, the doctor sent. I assumed you had read it,” I replied mildly before adding smugly, “besides as you told me you’re the expert.”

Dr. Tennent’s retort was interrupted by an excited shout from Dr. Hewley, “This puts a different spin on testing her powers and classification.”
“How so Doctor, it seems to me nothing much has changed,” Dr Tennent interjected.

“I beg to differ; Miss Reid believes that she is an Exemplar and that she used Atalanta as her BIT, or her archetype. A reincarnation if you will of the body but not the spirit of Atalanta. She has demonstrated that to my satisfaction with her testimony.”

I flashed Dr. Hewley a brilliant smile, “Thank you.”

“That testimony includes a vision where a woman, undoubtedly Athena, tells her, that she will place her seal on her body. The owl is I suspect just one part of that seal.”

Let’s get started,” Dr. Hewley spoke excitedly, rubbing his palms together. His exuberance broke the inquisition and I followed the group to a door that opened to reveal a large and well equipped gym with an Olympic size pool. There I was directed to change into my workout clothes.

Over the next three hours I was tested with everything they had available; from rowers, to elliptical trainers, the treadmill, to the weights and finally the pool. Mixed in were agility, and reaction tests with cardio endurance.

They cut short the endurance and cardio exercises. Twenty minutes at 25 mph and at a nine degree incline had done very little to affect my BMR. They tried to catch me by surprise several times by slowing the treadmill to a walk from the jogging pace, while changing the slope.

Twelve laps around the pool and they called a halt to that test when the monitors showed that it might take several hours to raise my metabolic rate much above resting.

Another anomaly became apparent when lifting weights; five hundred pounds seemed to be my limit but I could apparently lift that weight indefinitely as my metabolic rate and muscle tissue showed very little stress.

So, while I didn’t have super physical powers, my body seemed to tap into the atmosphere and make use of the ambient energy, converting it into sucrose, amino acids and oxygen to fuel increased demands. At least that seemed to be their working theory. That explanation worked for me.

The average human response/reflex time is 0.75 seconds mine was timed repeatedly at 0.001seconds or a millisecond. To blink an eye takes a third of a second. Their interpretation was either that I was sensing intent through the ether; a type of precog ability, or that I was warping time for brief milliseconds.

We finished with floor exercises and gymnastics, testing my flexibility and resiliency.

“That’s enough; we’ve learned all we can here,” Dr. Hewley muttered, “let’s go down the hall to the reinforced testing area.”

That sounded ominous.

We walked several hallways twisting along the underground tube until we turned a corner and stopped in front of a door marked test lab one. Dr. Hewley producing a key unlocked and opened the door.

When he did I immediately felt as if a thousand violins were playing a thousand different melodies, and all of them out of tune.

“Ugh,” I exclaimed clamping my hand over my ears and reeling backwards. My gaze narrowed with my eyes flashing as I became aware of the web of discordant energy that pulsed in the room. Luckily it stopped at the door and I was able to view and probe it safely from a distance in the hall.

Dr. Tennent stopped, noticing my distress and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“An energy or something in there is really out of tune; it feels like nails on a blackboard,” I shivered eyeing the jarring waves that danced off the walls and ceilings.

The doctors and technicians were veterans of many such tests, and while some test subjects had felt the subtle energy patterns employed in the room, none had either seen them, or reacted so violently, in their presence. The lab was one of several that were warded, and that were used with mages, with protection circles etched in the floor to contain and dampen the magic. That was standard procedure for new magicians.

“I don’t understand,” Dr Polland began, “are you telling us you can see this energy.”

“Yes I can see it, it’s hard not to.”

“Can you change it into a form that you can work with?” Dr. Tennent asked.

I nodded, “Yes I think I can, but I don’t know what the result would be, and doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose for the wards?”

“It does, but what do you mean you don’t know what the result would be?”

Feeling a familiar tingle in my shoulder I replied, “There is a lot of unnecessary energy in there I need to absorb or bleed off, and then recalibrate what’s left. But if you give me time I think I can insulate myself against its effects.”

“Okay, we will get someone to set up a smaller room and see what happens. In the meantime there are other tests we can do,” the ever exuberant Dr Hewley explained as he led us to a smaller room down another hallway.

“This test is designed to study your reflexes, stamina and any precog ability,” Dr Hewley began explaining, “Balls will shoot out from the walls at you from all directions with increasing speeds and quantity. The objective is to not let them hit your body; however, you can use your hands and feet to deflect them or dodge them altogether, any questions?”

“Can I use my head?” I asked smiling.

“Not in this test you can’t, no,” he replied poker-faced.

Party Pooper!

The room resembled a handball court with windowless, high, unbroken walls and the door that seamlessly shut behind me. Walking to the room's center I meditated drawing in energy and expanding my centers to move energy more effectively. I gave a silent nod indicating I was ready.

Soon a red ball came at me that I choose to block with my forearms. Then they came in increasing amounts and colors, changing speeds. Soon after, they came from varying heights and from the corners speeding towards the room's center. I didn't think they were seeking my heat signature but rather seemed to be covering the room in patterns.

Patterns that eventually would result in enough balls at every conceivable space to be unavoidable.

Before that could happen though my concentration was tested as not all the balls were coming at me at the same speed, or the same colors, and some were blinking. The balls stung my arms and feet where I blocked them.

I knew it was just a matter of time before I miscalculated a ball's speed, or two or more balls converged at a sufficient angle to make escape impossible. The balls were now being launched from behind me as well and the room was buzzing with whirling, multi-color orbs. Then something unexpected happened; time seemed to slow down and several balls seemed to pass right through my body as if that part of me blinked in and out of existence. Astonished, I lost my concentration and control of the pattern, and seconds later was whacked by several balls at once.

Immediately they shut down the test and the door was opened and I was surrounded by several doctors.

“Congratulations,” beamed Hewley, “you lasted 3 minutes and 23 seconds which is the very best time we ever recorded, but what happened there at the last? It looked like several balls passed right through you without touching you.”

“I don't know it surprised me too,” I admitted, “and I lost my focus.”

“Well it looks like some sort of warper power and maybe precog as well, though you may be sensing patterns,” Dr Tennent opined, “very impressive.”

“Are you ready for your next test?”

I nodded numbly, my mind still on what exactly happened to me in that room. As we walked down more corridors towards the next testing area Dr Hewley explained, “This next test is usually not administered by us, or at this step, but since we are still waiting on a room we’ll take advantage of your training at the gun range. Sergeant Bardue will conduct these tests.”

The room we found was an underground gun range except the targets were substantially more solid that the cardboard types I was used to.

Bardue led me over to a locked cage that held a variety of weapons, “Select a couple of pistols and a rifle,” he directed.
I looked at the rows and rows of weapons, “Any chance you have a Ruger .40 S&W and a M1A1 in there anywhere?”

Wordlessly Sergeant Bardue retrieved the two pistols and the rifle which he handed to me. From another locked cabinet he produced magazines and ammunition. I followed him to the shooting bench where he handed me glasses and ear plugs.
“Okay what do you want to see me do in here,” I asked a little perplexed at the layout.

“I want to see how well you shoot and how good your training is.”

I acknowledged his challenge while I waited for everyone in the room to prepare.

“When you’re ready,” Bardue announced. I stood silently a few minutes frowning at the silhouette 25 yards down range before snatching up the pistol and magazine and snapping it in place. In one smooth motion I brought the weapon to shoulder height and began firing.

The shots blended into one long roar with tongues of flame licking at the shuddering figure suspended from the ceiling; some of its stuffing laying on the floor. Five seconds later the slide hung open on the last shot.

I released that magazine and snapping another in place snatching the second pistol in my right hand I used my left to feed a magazine into its handle.

The next step was the typical hostage scenario and I moved weaving between obstacles while dodging simulated fire. I ran the gauntlet without being hit or hitting any hostages while hitting 29 of 30 targets.

Bardue was all smiles when I got back to the starting area, “Good job Atalanta, don’t worry very few people get anywhere near a perfect score. Let’s see how well you shoot a rifle.”

He had targets for me at 100, 300, and 500 yards and ten shots at each distance free hand. I was confident as we had trained almost every day for a year at these same distances. Most shots hit the one inch inside circle with just two in the second ring and none from inside 500 yards.

“That’s very good,” Bardue remarked taking the cleared weapons from me and replacing them inside the cage.

“They should have the small room set up now for you Atalanta,” Dr Polland interjected as he led the way down hallways until we came to a small alcove.

Clustered in the hallway were four additions to our group, I recognized none except Mrs. Carson and Nikki O’Reilly. The others were introduced as Circe and Eliza Grimes who were both members of the mystic arts department.

Mrs. Carson, as Headmistress, began, “In all my years here, no student has reacted to the warded room and protected circle as you have. It appears you have an affinity for magic, but in a different pattern than expected. I'm here in my official capacity as caretaker of the Academy, and the rest of the faculty is here, to observe the interactions and to understand what, if anything happens outside the ordinary. Nikki is here because her magic use is not standard either, so maybe she will see something the rest of us don’t see. These wards are of the same pattern, but not as extensive or powerful, as the other wards were. Now Atalanta, if you will just walk into the room and tell us what you are experiencing.”

I nodded stepping tentatively into the alcove, “It’s not as strong, but I do get a kind of probing feeling like it’s bouncing off me, and it’s most distracting.”

To Fey, and the other mages present, the wards seemed to part for her and then snap back into place as she passed; almost working as a shield. From the framework of the field it was as if she didn't exist.

An idea came to Fey as she watched the interplay between Atalanta and the wards, “Atalanta do you mind if I cast a little fireball spell at you?”

“Sure go ahead.”

Fey called a limited knot of magic from her body, forming a small ball of fire and aimed it at Atalanta. It passed right through the fabric until it touched the threads immediately surrounding Atalanta. They then flared as the magic dissipated along the threads becoming weaker as they moved outward. The field also seemed to be reorganizing into a different weave.

Surprised murmurs followed the display.

“Atalanta,” called out Mrs. Carson, “see if you can interact with or affect the wards.”

“Okay.” I searched inside myself and found the core of essence that had awakened in me two months ago, pushing it out and into my arms and then my fingers. Reaching out I touched the lines of magic which began to vibrate and change colors, radiating out. Once the change was complete, the outer lines began drawing inward. It quickly became apparent that the wards were shrinking and strengthening; acting as a living thing rushing inwards in a swirling vortex and accumulating in me making my body glow and vibrate with the increased energy. A warm glow that quickly escalated until I felt ready to explode. I heard someone shout a warning as a purple light radiated out from my hands and fingers and exploded against the far wall. No, not a typical explosion with backpressure but more like a torch effect sending a shower of sparks as the energy bolt melted a six inch hole through three inch boiler plate steel and extending another five or six feet into the dirt behind it. I remained fixated as did the rest of the group.

“What just happened,” someone asked? That question seemed to unleash a torrent of answers, statements, guesses and claims. Bedlam resulted for a moment until Mrs. Carson gained control.

“Everyone calm down and take a deep breath. I want each of your opinions, one at a time. We'll start with Dr Hewley and work to my right and end with you Atalanta.”

“The wards did not seem to react to Atalanta at all, as they are designed to.” Each instructor added more observations to the mix, but Fey summed it up best, “Those wards were weak, but they didn't react to Atalanta except to shield her, which they did when I tossed that fireball spell, like she was not there or a part of the network. The pattern also seemed to be shifting to match her coherence. What would have happened if or when that happened is anyone's guess.”

“Ever since being shot,” I noted when my turn came, “and I acquired this seal, I've been able to call up reserves of what I call energy. That energy is what I used to touch the matrix and that's when everything started going crazy.”

“I think a few more experiments are needed,” began Mrs. Carson, “Atalanta do you think you can do what you did but outside the ward this time?”

I shrugged, “I don't see why not.”

In minutes I constructed another ward and this time I stood from outside repeating the touching as I did before. A tiny whirl was heard as the wards shimmered and blinked off.

“Did you feel anything?” Mrs. Carson asked.

“Just a tingle,” I admitted.
“Okay construct another just like the first one,” Mrs. Carson directed.

This ward shimmered brighter and a pop was heard as it winked out and I felt a sharper twinge. I constructed a third that was twice as powerful as the one I had merged with. I directed my energy through my fingers to the web interface and a white spark jumped from my fingers into the cords holding the wards together which pulsed brightly and as the strands died another spark jumped from it into me. I staggered to my knees from the jolt. My eyes flashed from gray-green to red and back to gray-green. “Damn,” I muttered, “that stung.”

Mrs. Carson looked at her watch, “It’s after 5pm and time for dinner. Sergeant escort Atalanta to the dining hall. The rest of you,” turning to her instructors, “I want your reports and recommendations by tomorrow noon. And Atalanta, I want you stay out of trouble and Sergeant I expect you to see to it. By trouble I mean stay away from wards or using magic until we get a better understanding of the exact nature of your powers.”

“Am I under house arrest then?” I demanded.

“In a way, yes you are. I want you and the students safe. You don’t know your way around here yet and you don’t have a firm grip on the nature, nor the extent of your powers. Until further notice I want a member of security with you wherever you go on campus.”

“Not that I’m protesting, but I’d like to point out that any problems that have occurred were interactions with other people’s magic. But,” I smiled, “I have no problem with temporary, reasonable rules nor do I intend to make any trouble.”

“That’s sweet of you dear,” Mrs. Carson smiled sweetly back as she turned to retrace her steps and we fell in behind her.

“Sergeant Bardue, Nikki, I'm sorry I have screwed up your day.”

“Comes with the territory,” Bardue sighed, “just don't make a habit of it okay.”

“Actually it was cool and interesting,” Nikki observed, “but what happened before I got here?”

“Everything went to hell in a hand basket when we went to test if I had any magic in that shielded room. The pattern or weave ...whatever you call it, picked at me like dragging fingernails on a blackboard. Just out of synch: Incoherence.

So they had me do some other test while you guys did your thing,” I shrugged.

“Well,” Nikki began, “I never saw someone interact with warding the way you did by not disturbing it and then just absorbing it. I don't have to tell you that you came close to melt down.”

“Yeah that surprised me; all that energy rushing in felt like I was going to explode if I didn't do something and quick.”

“You'll have to learn how to control the amount you take or else channel it into something like an enchantment to use later.” Nikki cautioned.

“You’re right,” I replied turning to Bardue, “Sergeant now might not be the best time for me to bring this up, but I have a question or favor to ask,” I uttered biting my lip and tentatively continued, “back home I was a bounty hunter.”

“Excuse me,” Both the Sergeant and Nikki stopped and were staring at me slack-jawed.

Atalanta clears up a misunderstanding and answers some questions. Meanwhile Mrs. Carson reaches out to learn all she can about Atalanta and makes her plans. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 20

I was equally as stunned and confused then giggled as the realization hit me, “Not people you guys...animals. Sometimes I track and trap them for tagging, sometimes a bear, or cat, or wolf will go rogue and I have to put them down. That's part of who I am, a huntress. Besides I like the wild outdoors and I'm real good at what I do. So I wonder if there is any call or need for that kind of work here.”

“Girl you’re full of surprises aren't you,” Gunny challenged, “is this another thing you failed to mention on your application?”

“Well,” I hedged, “it’s there, just not in the exact context though.”

“Like you having combat training.”

“Martial arts,” I countered. Silently we started walking again.

Crystal Hall was buzzing when we walked through the doors. Supper was in full swing. The cafeteria was crowded but the food line moved easily and soon I was seated beside Nikki at a table while the Sergeant had wandered off to eat with security. No doubt with one eye on me.

“So is it true,” Nikki asked, “are you a bounty hunter?” This piqued the interest of several Kimba members that had just came up. “A bounty hunter, for real,” Jade bubbled as she and Billie sat.

“Just sometimes,” I admitted shyly, “please keep it between us. I was asking Sergeant Bardue if there were a similar program here as I really like being out in the wild and tracking.”

Nikki grinning from ear to ear adding, “She's had combat training too.” Chaka, Chou, Billie and Hank perked up at that news.

“What kind,” Hank wanted to know. “Close quarters or hand-to-hand.”

“I was taught close quarters, and that hand-to-hand meant somebody had laid a hand on you, a no-no where stealth is required. He also taught me a form of Wing Chung Kung Fu, KJD.”

“Who was this guy, I mean what did he do,” asked Chaka.

“Seal, Black Ops.”

“Okay girl spill it, what else are you not telling us?” Nikki conspiratorially leaned forward grinning.

“Really guys I didn't do much, heck there wasn't that much to do just a lot of open space and a nice guy who offered to teach me some self defense moves. Nothing compared to the adventures you guys got into.”

“You just proved my point,” Nikki smirked, “to start; this guy was only going to teach you something basic, right.”

“Yeah. So what?”

“So why did he teach you more than basic and more importantly why did you continue learning?” Nikki repeated her inquiry.

I replied thoughtfully with a faraway stare, “I hadn't thought about it before. Just instincts I guess.”

Shifting directions Nikki asked, “How many adventures have you had?”

“Five or six,” I admitted.

Nikki looked around at her group, “Numbers are somewhat similar to what we experienced.” There was general agreement with that assessment.

Nikki continued relentless to drive home her point, “There are what less than 1,000 people in 100 square miles where you live.” She continued when I nodded. “There's double that population here in at least at a quarter of that size and in Boston several million people. Our adventures were bigger and more explosive simply because of opportunity. My point being is that just like we did, you drew trouble to you. It wasn’t your fault and it wasn't our fault either. It just happened. It sounds like you drew about the same number of troubles with fewer opportunities. Will that happen here after another transformation? Likely.”

“You have already made strides in that direction after only one day. First, youby getting in a scuffle with Tatiana, which that brought Mrs. Carson and security down on your head. And today you turned mystical arts and Mrs. Carson on their heads with your power testing.”

“So you are saying I'm a trouble magnet?” I asked frowning.

“I have a theory about when a new mutant emerges; they sort of bring that chaos and change within them out into the world. Nature's way of stasis.”

“Whoa, Dr Frankenstein, I presume,” Bunny teased Nikki. “Who did you swipe that from?”

“In Future History: The Predictive Power of Mathematical Extrapolation. Something was said in class and this neat little theory popped in my head.”

“I can't argue with the reasoning since my code name is Equal and stasis is balance,” I moaned. “So does that mean I need to go find some new changelings and then go find some trouble?”

“No,” Nikki replied quickly, “That's not what I mean. Think of it like a pressure cooker building up inside. If you don't have some pressure outside pushing in, that cooker’ll blow up.”

Jade excitedly agreed, “Just like a pressure cooker we need to blow off a little steam.”

“Just not blow up half of Boston doin' it,” Ayla replied dryly thinking of the destruction they had help cause and that she was lucky her investments had escaped damage.

Unperturbed Jade bounced to face Nikki, “You need to write a paper for one of your classes. Bet you'd get an 'A' on it. Then we could use it as defense exhibit 'A' with Mrs. Carson.”

“I don't know guys,” Nikki complained, “It’s just a spur of the moment doodling kind of thing.”

“It kinda’ makes sense,” Hank said, “And it would explain a lot of things that happened. You need to dig deeper on this. It might help all mutants out.”

“I’m supposed to have an appointment with Dr. Bellows sometime this week,” I echoed, “would it help if I sounded him out?”

“That's not a bad idea.”

I slowly became aware that the buzzing had dropped several levels in volume and looking around was surprised that the cafeteria had emptied of almost half it’s occupants while we were eating and talking. “What now guys?”

“I guess to Poe, we go,” Jade answered as we rose to deposit our plates and then walk through the doors of Crystal Hall.

From his vantage Gunny Bardue watched the Kimbas and Atalanta leave and followed from a discreet distance, breathing a sigh of relief when they passed through the doors at Poe. Buzzing from his pager interrupted his vigil, ' My office in 10.C.'

“Wonder what’s up.”

Bardue strode in through the doors at Schuster Hall and bypassed the receptionist to knock on Mrs. Carson's door. He was surprised to find Chief Delarose seated as he responded to Mrs. Carson's summons. “Mrs. Carson, Chief,” he greeted them with raised eyebrows. Mrs. Carson ignored his implied question, “Where is Miss Reid?”

“She’s in Poe with the rest of Team Kimba.”

“The Chief and I were discussing who from security to put with Atalanta. We both think Everheart is ideal.”

“I couldn't agree more, especially after the bombshell she dropped on us coming back through the tunnels.”

“And what was that?” Mrs. Carson demanded.

“It seems back in New Mexico she was a bounty hunter...”

“What?!” both Carson and Delarose shouted together.

“Tagging animals, or killing those that hunt livestock. They pay so much an animal and she was asking me if there was a similar program around here.”

“Well we do have some problems from time to time but it might present a problem with the Medawihla Indian Were tribe of bears. But we need to talk with Eloise and Ben first.”

“On the bright side,” Bardue jabbed, “she doesn’t apparently charge to hunt humans.” He was referring to her search and rescue efforts.

“People do get lost from time to time,” Delarose dryly pointed out.

Mrs. Carson turned to Delarose, “I think that about does it for now, Chief you’ll let Sam know.”

He nodded and both men rose to leave, careful to close the door gently behind them. Outside they parted ways Delarose towards Sam’s residence and Bardue to the cottage.

Samantha Everheart had just finished cleaning, oiling and assembling her guns when a knock sounded. She tensed for a second before smiling, “Come in Chief,” she answered not looking up from her table.

“Sam you are going to wear out those guns if you don’t quit cleaning them,” he teased.

Hive; her built in computer program, despite her not asking about it automatically returned a value of 26.3 years.

“No, a weapon is a tool and a tool works best when it is clean. But you didn’t drop in on a week night to discuss the merits of weapon cleaning.”

“I can’t fool you can I Sam? You’re right I didn’t. I’m pulling you off your normal duties for a few weeks to babysit a new student.”

“Sit down,” Sam indicated a chair, “and tell me about this monster of the midway.”

“She is the new girl that came in yesterday, Atalanta Reid, and she seems to be a bit of a trouble magnet.”

“Ahh, shades of Team Kimba then?”

“Something along those lines. After eating dinner last evening she gets into a tussle with Tatiana.”

Samantha stopped what she was doing and looked closer at Delarose, clearly interested, “What’s the problem; Tatiana’s a psycho?”

“It’s not that, Atalanta treated Tatiana like a red-headed step child. Bardue said Tatiana never stood a chance, and he is sure Atalanta has had combat training, while her files indicate she has martial arts tutoring.”

Sam asked leaning forward, “Anybody can claim anything, what makes you think she has any training of that type?”

“Bits and pieces,” he admitted, “her files indicate martial arts training and Tatiana maybe a psycho, but she’s tough and has three years of training here at the school under her belt. Bardue witnessed part of the fight; he says Atalanta had her easily pinned to the wall. When he asked what was going on, Atalanta says that Tatiana was just demonstrating her love for good ol’ Whateley. School spirit don’t you know.”

“She’s quick thinking and has a sense of humor to boot,” Sam chuckled, “What’s the problem?”

“I'm coming to that,” Delarose grumbled. “Somebody stole into Tatiana’s room last night, tied up her and her roommate and drew on her a Snidely Whiplash mustache and left a message; 'Don't even think about it.' We are sure Atalanta did it but we had cameras on all of the outside doors, hell even the door leading to the basement. Nothing went in or came out of Poe last night.”

“The cameras were compromised then,” Sam volunteered.

“We thought of that, again nothing.”

“I like her style.”

“There's more. She almost blew up the labs in Arena 77. It had something to do about her changing the protective wards, drawing it in and amplifying and losing control. The whole mystic arts department, Mrs. Carson and Fey witnessed it.”

“Well I still don't see what the problem is; she doesn't seem like a bad kid. Just keep her away from warded areas until she learns control.”

“If that is all there was I wouldn't be here,” Chief Delarose replied quietly. “It seems like she either was vague on her application or the people here didn't read between the lines.”

“Just what was in between those lines?” Sam questioned.

Delarose paused to consider how much to reveal and how much to let Sam find out on her own.

“That the training she had received was with a black op Seal operative.”

“Oh shit,” Sam buried her head in her hands. Seals and black ops meant lethal force. She should know she had spent more years than she wanted to recall in that line of work. Because of the nature of that work many members of that fraternity were certifiable insane.

“Do we know who trained her?”

“No we don’t and she’s been a bit evasive about names.”

“That just means she has been trained well. Not to worry there aren’t more than a couple of hundred of us and chances are either I or one of my contacts knows this soldier. Okay that’s not too bad. When do I…”

Sam’s words froze in mid sentence seeing the look on Delarose’s face. “There’s more,” she asked incredulous.

“Separate from her martial arts and CQC classes she is also a bounty hunter, a tracker, a huntress in the wild. Who knows what else we’ll find. There was nothing in her files about her being a mage either. An image of an owl was noted on her left shoulder but we assumed it was a tattoo …”

“But it’s not a tattoo,” Sam interrupted.

“No, it seems to be a birthmark …”

“A birthmark she wasn’t born with,” Sam quipped.

“Yeah a birthmark she wasn’t born with,” Delarose echoed dryly, “Atalanta thinks it is a seal from Athena.”

“She’s evolving then.”

“It would appear so. Another oddity is her chosen code name; Equal. It’s benign yet holds an implied threat.”

“It reminds me of the Marine and Seal code: Adapt, improvise, and overcome. Say no more, when do I start?”

“In the morning,” the Chief responded. “She runs 5-10 miles every morning and Mrs. Carson has given her free rein in the forests around the campus subject to the usual boundaries and restricted areas. She is setting up a meeting with the Medawihla tribe to meet with Atalanta.”

“Chief” began Sam, “something doesn’t add up; why is Mrs. Carson being so accommodating. Just what are her powers?”

Chief Delarose signed again, “There’s a bit of mystery there, but no she’s not a mind dominator. Mrs. Carson thinks she knows more about her powers than she lets on. Probably to give her enough rope to hang her if she’s up to no good.”

Samantha, with Hive running a probability matrix and she recalling her experience replied, “Whateley has all the experts and the initiative. If I was her I’d be cautious about revealing too much too early. She’d probably fit well with a sniper unit. I take it you want me to babysit and observe her and give you a report on her stability.”

Chief Franklin Delarose drawing himself to his full height and squaring his shoulders admitted, “That’s exactly what I want.”

“You got it, Chief but I need to see her file.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he replied as he stood up, turning to leave, “come by the office tomorrow.”

And in another part of the campus:

“Eloise how are you? Are Ben and the kids doing okay? Good. Good. Have you got your Christmas trim up?”
“Me. No I'll probably take a few days and see the grandkids.

A few more like pleasantries were exchanged before Eloise chuckled, “Out with it Liz. I know you too well. What is on your mind?”

Liz is Elizabeth Carson the Headmistress at Whateley and Eloise the council leader of the Medawihla Indians that was neighbor to the school and from who Whateley leased their grounds.

“A new student came in yesterday and frankly she is a bit of a puzzle. She’s a changeling with two events; the last one two months ago. The first was at the upper level of baseline and from male to female. Her mother, a doctor, certified her as intersex and as a result she wasn't tested as a mutant. But for most of those 18 months she trained one-on-one in martial arts and close quarter combat drills. Her second changing resulted from being shot, while rescuing her mother from fleeing criminals. This happened in front of witnesses that made her mutation impossible to keep secret. This change resulted in another mystery as she received a seal but no change in her appearance. Today during our powers testing she fouled up our warding. Then she told me she's a huntress and bounty hunter and that I believe she might be connected in some way with the five-fold court.”

Eloise interrupted, “I don't see where I can help you.”

Elizabeth continued patiently, “She expressed an interest in exploring the forests around here and possibly hunting down rogue animals...”

“Liz we police our own area.”

“I know you do. She also does tagging for wildlife and conservation. And her second change happened when tracking kidnappers.”

“I still don't see where I can help you.”

Liz taking a calming breath patiently continued, “Two reasons. Her connection I feel is someone from the five-fold court and since your tribe traces its ancestry to that time I hope you might be able to add insight to what the connection might be.”

“And what is the second?”

Elizabeth decided to be blunt, “She's going to be here during Christmas break and frankly I'd like to keep her away from magic while our instructors are on leave. She is used to running free in the New Mexico Mountains and I was hoping that your tribe could show her around a few days.”

Eloise laughed heartily, “If I agree, you owe me.”

“Agreed,” Liz silently breathed a silent sigh.

“But I have a couple of conditions.”

“Name them,” Liz replied cautiously.

“Who do you have babysitting her?”

“Samantha Everheart.”

“Good choice. I'd like her and Nikki to escort Atalanta here before Christmas. I reserve the right to change my mind after meeting her, and I want to talk with her mother when she is here. After all, she's supposed to be at the Academy and not on the Reservation. From one mother to another I want her to be okay with it.”

“I don't have a problem with any of that. And Eloise, thank you.”

“What are friends for,” Eloise replied warmly.

Elizabeth Carson leaned back in her office chair smiling at the ceiling. That had gone well. Keeping Atalanta occupied in a familiar routine and away from magic just made Christmas a lot easier to enjoy.

Eloise Donner likewise had a similar self-satisfied smile plastered on her face. Liz and the school owed her a favor and if Atalanta did have a connection from the five-fold court, it most likely was from the center court. The five-fold court had it’s own secrets and she suspected the Center Court employed some nasty enforcers to keep order. Atalanta and Athena were a formidable combination, or she could be hosting an unknown deity.

The attacks by the Voodoo Wolves from several years earlier had taught her the value of allies. And the goddess of war and wisdom, if that was who Atalanta is, would be another link in much needed defenses.

I meant to post this chapter on Monday but my hear wasn't in it. My daddy was brought home under hospice care on Tuesday and it is only a matter of time. This a shorter chapter and I will try and post the next chapter tomorrow or Monday.

Mrs. Carson makes some calls and Atalanta gains a running partner. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 21

Thursday morning I woke up completely alert with no lingering effects of sleep dimming my senses. I remained motionless, sensing the room and the environment; searching for anything that didn’t belong. Air movement alerted me to the open door and another presence in the room. Opening my senses I tasted of the energies swirling around me, catching a familiar light scent riding on the morning air.

A smile played across my lips, “Nikki you’re up early,” I observed, opening my eyes and throwing back the bed covers adding, “what brings you around?”

“A group of us get together each morning to do warm ups and some sparring to keep in shape. Care to join us?”

“Sure. I'll be down in ten minutes, you want to wait you can.”

“I'll wait.”

I shrugged into a pair of workout pants, a sweatshirt, and a pair of trainers. I brushed out my hair, fastening it into a ponytail before jamming my wide brimmed hat on.

I'm ready,” I announced to Nikki and we hurried outside to join the others. I fell into the rear of the group not wishing to disturb their tai chi warm up routines as I completed a series complicated forms that Manny had taught me that emphasized hand-eye coordination using my hands and feet while maintaining my balance. After my self-allotted time I announced I was going for a run.

“Care for company.”

The newcomer wore loose fitting workout clothing but I noticed a badge hung from her neck, “I'm Samantha Everheart,”

I shook the offered hand, “I'm Atalanta Reid. Sure if you want. I need to warn you though it’s pretty intense, I run for speed, endurance, agility and balance, and just for the fun of it.”

“That sounds good,” Sam declared.

I had guessed that Sam was not a baseline human but after 5 miles that guess was confirmed. We were now running beside a tumbling lusty mountain stream and leaping from rock to rock while marveling at the view of the sun as it began to peek between a notch in the mountains. Suddenly I sprinted my long legs a blur as I stair-stepped a series of rocks each taller than the one before it, and ended on a giant slab of stone a good twenty feet higher and dead flat. Moments later Samantha plopped down beside me with neither of us showing any fatigue from five miles with obstacles no armed forces had conceived of.

“You weren't kidding were you,” Sam remarked.

Several minutes passed as I was absorbed in the sun rising against the backdrop of the Presidents mountain range. Tentacle rays of purple sunshine streaked across the horizon splashing colors against the drab monotone grays that darkness had wrapped the landscape in. I raised my arms skyward and stretched and basked when the golden rays of the sun painted our perch in warmth and promise.

“This is a piece of cake compared to back home,” I replied.

“I'm your bird dog,” Sam announced bluntly, “I’ve been assigned to dog your steps for the next few weeks; the powers that be are a little nervous about you.”

“I figured that was it,” I responded mildly. “Mrs. Carson implied as much.”

“No hard feelings.”

“None, You... and they are just doing their jobs. I do appreciate you telling me.”

Suddenly pensive I turned to Sam and asked, “What did you do before Whateley security.”

Samantha knew she wasn't asking about her janitorial duties and decide to be blunt, “Seals, Black OPS, sniper unit,” she responded.

I nodded my head, “My teacher...Manny did the same thing.”

“Mind if I ask his name. I probably know him. We might even have shared the same piece of dirt.”

I sighed. Manny had not told me I couldn't but if they were nervous before, this wouldn't allay any fears. “I used to tease him about his name and what he did. At first I thought he was joking or it was a government code...men in black.”

Samantha was stunned, “Are you talking about Manny Black.”

“Yeah,”

Manny was not just a Seal, he was team leader, deadly, loyal and one of the finest men and soldiers that Sam knew. If Atalanta had been thoroughly trained by Manny, Atalanta was dangerous .They had worked the same theaters but not at the same time. Usually it was her leaving, or Manny coming in. They had briefed each other often and Manny was as sharp as any. If he hadn't liked being in the field no doubt he would have made bars and a desk in Washington. Though Sam guessed he had contacts there too.

“I know him, a fine man and you could not have a better teacher.”

I smiled, “Manny said I took to it like a duck to water, a natural.”

A 'natural' was a military term for trainees who were natural warriors.

“I guess he taught you everything then.”

“He said he did,”

“If I know Manny, he did. You should be proud there ain't more than a couple of dozen men and no other woman I know of with that level of knowledge and training.”

Good God she earned that as a baseline and at 14 too! That’s Scary good.

“I am proud. Though,” I smiled ruefully, “we hid the rough stuff from my Mom. At least I did.”

“We're going back the same route?”

I nodded springing from the perch hanging briefly in air as my feet lightly kissed the foot stone and then skipped wildly from rock to rock; much as a rock skipping across water. In less than 15 minutes we were back at Poe. A small sheen of moisture on my lip was the only sign of exertion and Sam did not show that hint.

“Thanks Samantha for the company. I'm taking a shower and get a bite to eat and see what else Mrs. Carson has in store for me today. I hope to take some placement tests on as many subjects as I can and concentrate on what Whateley teaches that normal high schools don't. See you at Crystal Hall?”

“I don't know,” she confessed, “my fuel requirements have altered.”

We parted company at the entrance to Poe; me to shower and change clothing and Sam to the security center.

“Well,” demanded Chief Franklin Delarose when Samantha reported.

“She's a good kid.”

“Besides that,” growled Delarose.

“She is in damn fine physical conditioning.”

“Out with it. Did you find out who her mystery guy is” Sam sat down immediately somber and professional and told him everything she learned.

“What is your assessment,” Delarose asked tersely.

“She has lethal skills as a baseline; even more so as a mutant. As a baseline there are not more than a dozen people that could defeat her. As a mutant it is anybody's guess. What we do know is she hasn't used lethal force and she’s had opportunities to do that.”

“What do you recommend?”

“The same recommendations I’d give for most of the students that come here; keep a close eye on her for a month and give her freedom to run while keeping her busy with classes.”

“What about encouraging her to join with the grunts?” The grunts were a Whateley group version of infantry.

“I don’t think she’d fit in,” Sam answered quickly, “her skills runs more along the areas of asymmetrical force; infiltrator, sniper, intelligence, and the survival school are all areas that she is suited for.”

“Hank’s a member of the grunts and Team Kimba plus he’s their logistics manager. Could she work with Hank and the Parkour Hooligans?”

“That’s an interesting combination,” admitted Sam, “also, she’s female and he’s male too.”

Delarose slid a file across the desk to Sam, “There’s her files, read them and bring them back,” Delarose ordered dismissing Sam with a wave of his hand.

After Sam left Delarose dialed a number he had on speed dial that was picked up after three rings, “Yes,” the cool cultured voice on the other end asked.

Delarose repeated what Sam told him. “Write it up and email me the report.” And the line went dead.

Several hours later Elizabeth Carson was frustrated and angry. The files she had received on Manny Black were either redacted, stamped top secret, or lead to dead ends and false leads. It looked like he had sat on his dead ass for 16 years and retired on a 20 year pension. His pay was classified. She knew that short of hacking into the military, which she wasn't about to do, she had just one option left to play.

Sighing again she reached for her phone dialing a number she had often dialed in the past. “Nick O’Reilly how can I help you.”

“Mr. O’Reilly, Elizabeth Carson from Whateley.”

“Mrs. Carson, how can I help you, I know Nikki's not in any more trouble there.”

“No, not at all, though this new girl reminds me a lot of Nikki and she is at Poe too. She went on to summarize Atalanta's situation and her concerns, “...and if you don't mind see what you can dig up on her father Lt Colonel Frank Reid who went down over Iraq two years ago.”

Nick chuckled, “If Mr. Black is what you think all I will be able to tell you are in generalities not any operation details, who he served with or under. Best I can do is ask around get assessments about his honor, intelligence, aptitude, any marks and what they are for, attention to detail, habits, discipline, willpower, maybe some special schools he was sent for.

The head of DARPA continued, “I’ve already met Miss Reid and her mother on a helicopter from Utah to New Mexico. I arranged for her temporary ID card and to fast track her military mutant card. But you already have someone on staff there that should know Manny, Sam Everheart.”

“She vouches for him.”

“Then what is the problem. Is there something you're leaving out Mrs. Carson?”

“There is,” she admitted, “but I'm uncomfortable revealing third hand information.”

“Since you called me, it is obvious you have concerns with this rumor. If I know what this rumor is I can probably rundown a contact for Black and ask him about this rumor, since I assume Atalanta told Sam something that Black told her and she told you. Mr. Black is the only person that can confirm or deny that rumor.”

“Okay, you're right. But this goes no farther than us and Mr. Black.”

“Understood,” Nick smiled into his phone.

“I've been around long enough and been around enough military types to know what ‘A Natural’ means in the military.”

“Ah, now I understand your concerns. Let me give you a few pointers. Naturals can be a huge asset or a bigger headache; it all depends on how you handle them. Usually they are in great physical shape, aggressive, and intelligent. Physically you need to keep her challenged and active.”

“She requested that she be allowed to run the forests and mountains here. For now I have limited her to the campus but she has a tentative invite to spend Christmas at the reservation and Eloise has promised to show her around. And she wanted to know if there were any bounty programs here.”

“Bounty programs for what.”

“She tagged animals for wildlife and hunted predators that go rogue.”

“Ah I see. That's exactly what she needs, challenges and Eloise will be good for her; tagging a moose might be just what the doctor ordered. Elizabeth, could you use another person in security?”

“We are always hiring. Security people come and go. Why?”

“Would you consider hiring this Mr. Black, if I can find him, and if he agrees?”

“If he checks out, then yes.”

“Okay, I'll get back to you, probably today, or two at the max, in the meantime Atalanta can be a big asset in any fight and I don't think you have to worry about her starting anything or going postal.”

I'm posting this earlier while I have some time. Atalanta starts her class assessments and meets Dr. Bellows for the first time. She also meets a group of bullies and ends up with more face time in security. And she make the acquaintance of Mr. Hawthorne! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 22

After showering, primping before the mirror, and dressing in the school sanctioned uniform I skipped down the landing to find Mrs. Horton waiting. She handed me a slip of paper, “Your schedule,” she stated.

“Thank you,” I said smiling at her retreating figure.

After eating breakfast the rest of the morning was taken up with placement tests from 9 to 12 at one hour intervals; an hour for lunch and another test from 1 to 2 before an hour with Dr. Bellows beginning at 2.

At precisely 2pm I knocked on Dr. Bellows office. He invited me in and to sit.

“What no couch,” I quipped.

“Old fashioned,” he declared with a wave of his hands. “Comfortable?”

Nodding I waited patiently for the doctor to begin.

“Atalanta what are your impressions from your first few days at Whateley?”

Succinctly I replied, “Competent, concerned staff. Good food. Nice room. Good people at Poe. Some bullies. Nice country.” I might as well be reading a list of ingredients from a box of cereal.

Dr Bellows frowned, “Let’s take them one by one. But first, what you tell me is and remains confidential. Tell me why you think our staff is as you described them competent and concerned, and not say concerned, caring or compassionate.”

I carefully choose my words, “My observations lead me to believe that the school has developed a system that works well for the conditions here. Adhering to that system makes their job easier. Recognizing that makes them competent. They are also concerned any breaches in that system makes their job harder and less competent.”

“You make it sound cold and calculating,” he commented mildly.

“Calculating certainly but I'd use formal not cold. As far as the other “C's” I didn't say they weren't that.”

Bellows cleared his throat as he made a few notes, “You mentioned good food.”

“It’s well prepared and there is plenty of it with a wide variety, and companionship for dinner helps.”

“Ah,” he smiled, “care to elaborate.”

“It’s mostly the people from Poe, and the Kimbas in particular. We joke around and kid one another. It makes eating more than just eating. I think we will help each other if needed. But I seem to be acquiring more acquaintances in security than in the student body.”

Dr. Bellows wanted to know how I felt about changing sexes.

“I assume you are interested in how I coped initially.”

“Yes but also any issues that might have come up since.”

I told him how my mother, Aunt Judy and Lindsey had given me a weekly female goal, to complete each week. At the end of that week we'd meet for dinner and I had to demonstrate that I had completed my assigned task.

“I guess you could say Mom didn't give me time to dwell on it. So I didn't. In exchange I got her to let Manny give me self defense lessons,” I said summing up my transition.

That is the way the hour was spent with him asking questions, jumping from subject to subject, and writing notes at my answers or non answers. Dull, boring, and predictable.

That afternoon in another part of Schuster the phone rang in an office with the door closed as the Headmistress was putting the finishing touches on a successful fall semester. “Hello,” she answered, the phone cradled against her ear as she read more reports.

“Mrs. Carson, Nick O’Reilly.”

“Mr. O’Reilly, how nice it is to talk with you again. Did you find anything out?”

“I can tell you this much, Mr. Black comes with the highest recommendations from some very high level people. In fact the Navy is holding his position open and is actively recruiting his reenlistment. I was able to track him down, and in fact spoke with him. He thinks highly of Atalanta and didn't know much about her latest change but doesn't think it will affect her too much. But he very much would like to remain in contact with her. Have you given any consideration to hiring him in security, or even as instructor?”

“As I said we are always on the lookout for good security people and same goes as an instructor. If he could fill out a resume and send it in and follow that up with a visit.”

Nick chuckled on his side of the phone, “The resume will have some blank years on it but it should be on your desk today. If you, and or Chief Delarose are available he can be there Friday.”

“What time.”

“Will 2pm work for you?”

“Yes, 2pm is fine. But can you have him call me this afternoon to confirm.”

“I’ll let him know that. You asked about Atalanta's father Lt Colonel Frank Reid. He was serving in the 513 Military Intel Brigade out of Iraq. He was career army, his wife, Atalanta's mother, is a doctor and medic and both are college educated. He or rather she was raised as an Army brat.”

“Thanks for the info on Atalanta's father I'm not sure how it fits in here though, but it’s another piece to file. Are you going to get to spend any time with Nikki at Christmas?” she asked.

“I have a few days off and plan to fly to St Louis to spend time with both Nikki and her brother at their mother's home. How about you, are you visiting the grand kids?”

“Yeah,” she admitted her voice softening thinking of them, “I really love this time of the year. And speaking of vacation time I better get busy, so I can get that time off.”

“Me too,” he agreed and having said their good-byes they hung up.

After seeing Dr. Bellows I went back to Poe and hung out with Team Kimba in their designated corner; I had been officially adopted as a groupie. It was too early for dinner and we fell into an agreeable silence.

The clock read 3:30pm and I was restless, “Guys I need to get outside for awhile, maybe run the rooftops, swing from the ceilings, or I just might find the tallest tree I can find and just look.”

“Look at what?” Chaka inquired amused.

“At nothing mostly,” I answered adding, “Sometimes when I look way off at nothing, something comes to mind. At least I hope nothing falls out of my mind, I don't have any to spare,” I grinned.

“One is the loneliest number,” Ayla smirked.

“I'll try to remember that and keep my mouth closed.”

“If you want a tree to climb,” Fey offered, “about hundred yards north from here is a giant Hawthorn maybe 50 feet high with plenty of foliage. And Hawthorns have certain properties.”

“Thanks, Nikki I might just do that. Right now though I'm going to Kane and let Sam know where I'll be.”

“You have to check in with them, that sucks.”

“Nah, not really, I'm just playing nice.”

The walk to Kane didn’t take long. Pushing the door open I stepped inside, asking the receptionist “Is Samantha Everheart around? I'm Atalanta Reid.”

She picked up a phone and dialed then spoke with someone, “She’ll be right down,” Ginny her tag read, said.

“Tell her I'll wait outside. And thanks.”

Outside on the sidewalk I soaked in the rays of the sun, grateful for the beautiful days so far at Whateley. Conversation drifted to my ears carried by the fall breeze and I quickly located the source. Four older students walking abreast strode rapidly toward me and if my instincts ran true, to avoid a confrontation I needed to yield the walkway. That I wouldn't do.

Another option was the bench near the fountain that was off the main sidewalk. Purposely I crossed over the intersection and sat on the bench waiting calmly on Sam. The four, all exemplars, two boys and two girls stopped in front of me at the bench. The leader, about 6'2” and 200 lbs posed and arrogantly sneered, “Let’s rest here for a minute.” Then lifting a hand to his chin he first looked at his group and the bench, then at me, “There's not enough room for all of us, you need to move.”

I wanted to tear his head off and stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine, but now was not the time. “Fine,” I replied, “I was just leaving anyway.”

The blond headed self styled leader chose that moment to grab my shoulder.

Before his hand could tighten its grip and while his arm was moving I ducked under and using his weight and momentum sent him tumbling into the rose bushes that adorned the bench area. He cried out in pain as the prickly bush clawed at him.

Not hesitating I moved forward between the girls my hands a blur as I struck them dozens of times using both hands. Using long hours of practice a quick heel kick connected with the other boy’s jaw sending him into the blond guy who had finally escaped from the rose bushes. They became entangled in each other’s bodies and wildly gyrating limbs; both ending on the ground in a heap.

I resumed my machine like strikes on the two women who seemed to stand still and defenseless against the fury of my attack. In the midst of this whirlwind I suddenly gripped one of the women by the arm in both of my hands as I twirled her and released her into her partners who were just coming to their feet. They fell to the ground with a thud. Caught up in haze of battle I glided forward and executing a spinning heel kick on the second girl that caught her between her shoulder blades, the force of it landing her among her struggling teammates. More confusion and curses came from the tangle of bodies. From start to finish the fight had lasted less than 10 seconds.

Sam had just pushed through the doors of Kane Hall.

“Stop! This Is Over,” shouted Sam, her hand resting on her weapon. I took two steps back acknowledging the order and raising my hands, palms out. The big blonde came barreling out from his friends his face a mask of rage, stopping after two steps seeing Samantha and finally hearing Sam’s warning, “One more step and you will wake up in the infirmary.”

“She started it,” he blustered.

“Shut the hell up Counterpoint. I saw the whole thing. All of you inside, you too, Atalanta.” I waited, trailing the group inside and hearing Sam paging Delarose.

I was led to a room by myself to wait. Through the room’s open door I noticed that the two males were also put in separate rooms while the two girls followed Sam into Delarose’s office. After they were interviewed Sam called the boys into the office and they too were interviewed and allowed to leave. I had to wait about thirty minutes before Sam came to fetch me with a half smile on her face, “Just can't stay out of trouble can you girl?”

I shrugged, “It would seem so.”

“Damn I never saw anyone use their hands that fast. Where did you learn that?”

“Just something I picked up.”

Chief Delarose was seated behind his desk a steaming cup of coffee perched within easy reach. His head was down as he ran his fingers through his hair. Franklin Delarose's eyes held strong emotions that threatened to spill out. I read a mixture of emotions in his face; one of anger, but clearly frustration was the dominant emotion.

“Reid what am I going to do with you?”

“Chief, I was avoiding confrontation until what’s his face laid his hand on me.”

“I know. Sam saw the whole thing. Speaking of Sam, why did you come over here?”

“It was obvious that she is my bird dog, so I came over to let her know where I'd be.”

“Why would you do that?” he asked wearily.

“Chief,” I straightened and leveled my gaze directly into his eyes, “Administration, instructors and security staff are by rank and decree entitled to my respect. That is why.”

“Okay,” he growled, “you can go. Everheart go with her. See that she stays out of trouble.”

“Atalanta, mind if I ask you something,” Samantha asked as the two girls walked northward across the campus.

“Ask away.”

“I saw the whole thing and you definitely tried twice to avoid a confrontation but you had a third opportunity to exit without confrontation. Why didn't you take it?”

I turned my head and looked hard at Samantha before answering, “Are you satisfying your curiosity or gathering intelligence?”

“Both,” Sam admitted chuckling.

“I thought so,” I grinned back, “What I told the Chief is true...about respect. It’s automatically given to my elders, but not so with my peers. That respect is earned not given. Four-on-one does not earn my respect. Those who have earned my scorn don’t get to lay their hands on me.”

Her former training kicking in; Samantha stopped with her hands on her hips and brusquely asked, “I am tired of beating this bush to death. Who the hell are you?”

I shook my head answering, “You are not going to like this; I don't know. Two years ago I was a 13 year old boy. Six months after that I was a 14 year old girl: A 14 year old girl who was trained by an elite soldier for a year and a half. At first it was just some self-defense tactics and to get used to this body. Somewhere that changed. If Manny was here he might be able to shed some light on it but he left about a month or two before I changed the second time.”

As we walked past Poe I continued, “Now I'm a 15 year old mutant girl who doesn't know what powers she has, and surrounded by mutants who do know their powers, and have been trained to use their powers. Tatiana and the group back there are all older and more experienced than I am, but I relied on my training. I'm sure you know what asymmetrical means.”

Samantha smiled, “I do indeed. Neutralize, eliminate, contain, control the threat swiftly and efficiently.”

“…With the least muss and fuss.”

“Exactly,” Samantha agreed. She couldn't help it she liked this girl, and understood her as someone who had also switched sexes, and while Atalanta hadn't fought in the sandbox, she had grown up as an Army brat and been trained by the some of the best the world had to offer.

They stopped by the base of the huge aged Hawthorn tree that rose 50 feet and whose foliage extended its covering and protection farther.

“We are here,” Sam announced needlessly.

I craned my head looking up into the expanse and network of limbs and felt something stir. That ...something prompted me to address the Hawthorn. Feeling silly I obeyed, “Mr. Hawthorn I am pleased to meet you, how have you been feeling?”

Samantha watched as Atalanta paused and seemed to be waiting and listening for a response.

“With your permission,” I added, “I would like to rest among your branches. Maybe we can get to know each other.”
Samantha half expected to hear a voice come from the tree, but what she got was unexpected; an image of her as Sam holding and comforting her daughter when she was about ten years old followed by disjointed images of guys she had known.

I turned to Sam smiling, “I think this is just what I need.”

“I'm tempted to join you.”

“In that case let me introduce you, “Mr. Hawthorn this is my friend Samantha Everheart.” Another image came to mind of her friends in her unit.

“I'll have to wait,” Sam demurred, “on duty,” she explained to the tree? No she decided it was Atalanta to whom she was talking. “Do I need to come back and fetch you?”

“No. I'll meet up with some of the guys at Poe to go to dinner.”

As Samantha watched I reached up and grasped a bottom limb, swinging up gracefully and balancing on the branch. Samantha estimated that the limb Atalanta was perched on was at least 10 feet off the ground. Someway and somehow the old tree appeared to lean over seemingly lowering parts of his trunk giving easier access. It was hard to tell, as the trunks grew in cockeyed ways, as Hawthorns are apt to do.

In seconds I ascended and settled into a nook halfway up and invisible from below. Samantha got the silly image of someone being offered a chair to sit down and 'take a load off.'

The tree forked, forming a modified cup and handle for me to settle in. The tree branches rose on either side to offer support and concealment while providing a commanding view of the campus. I smiled as I watched the comings and goings of students, faculty, and security. After several minutes of people watching and meditation I began to descend.

“Thank you Nikki, that was just what I needed,” I told my companions as we walked along the path with Jade and Billie to Crystal Hall. Of course my confrontation with the New Olympians was buzzing as snatches of conversation reached our ears and I had to tell of my version of events.

“Damn girl you get in more trouble that we did last year,” Nikki noted.

“Yeah it does seem I'm collecting enemies. Maybe I ought to read 'How to Win Friends and Influence People,'” I fretted.

“I don't think it will help,” Billie needled.

We kept an easy banter going through the line and at the table. After we had finished eating I looked around the table at my friends, “Thanks guys, I really appreciate your acceptance of me and I hope you never regret it. But if you guys ever need me, you got me. Though, it might not be safe being my friend.”

“Sometimes shit happens,” declared Billie with Jade adding, “We'll deal with it if and when it comes up, we have before and no doubt we will again, whether you were here or not.” Nikki nodded agreement.

The next morning I woke at my usual hour and went down to the lawn to do my morning routine of conditioning and forms with the other members of team Kimba. Although this was just the third morning we were forming an easy alliance.
As usual I finished first and I watched Sam walking up to wait on me.

“Guys I’ll see you later; my ride’s here,” I called out as walked over to Sam and we began our usual 10 mile run.

Sorry that I haven't posted but my daddy passed on the day that I posted the last chapter. It has been a surreal week and a half.

Atalanta has tests more tests that raises more questions than they answer. More plans are laid.

Chapter 23

By 7:30 I had showered changed clothing and was out of Poe joining the throng streaming to the cafeteria. Again it was a beautiful, sunny day, chilly but warm for mid December with temps in the 30's. I had received another revised schedule this morning. The 9am hour was reserved for an interview with Louis Geintz in Parapsychology at Kirby Hall, 10am for Circe, and then 11am for another placement test before lunch.

At 8:30 am I left for Kirby Hall for the 9am meeting with Louis Geintz, “Come on in,” he invited me after I knocked on his door, “we need to get started.”

In that interview I let slip the images and feelings I had at old Mr. Hawthorne tree. He seemed amused that I named a tree. But he did pursue the images and asked about other such feelings.

He asked me to recall the events and moves in the fight I had last night with the New Olympians. To my surprise I could plot each move in my mind as it happened like it was déjà vu.

“What do you mean by déjà vu?” He asked looking up from his writing.

“It’s like looking back on it now and when it happened as the same thing.” I saw he was confused and attempted to clarify my explanation.

“I see now the sequence of events has happened before and I just tapped into them; déjà vu or maybe precognition. The same types of things occur when I’m running, jumping, or dodging obstacles; I seem to just know how to shift my body in the air to land lightly ...as if it’s choreographed.”

“All my senses are sharpened, some more than others and in differing ways,” I replied to his question about what I had noticed different with my five senses.

“Describe those changes for me.”

“I don’t have x-ray vision but I can see in low to no light places.”

Geintz looking up from his notebook queried, “How can you see in no light?”

“My sense of smell, hearing, and touch usually combine to send me a report. If it’s a smell that I’ve had contact with, I will recognize it. Hearing will give me a direction and by touch I mean air currents that touch my skin. And remember even in what are termed no light conditions, rules of physics still apply."

“Which means what exactly,” he prompted.

I fidgeted in my seat as this interrogation was becoming tedious, “Darkness is not just the absence of light but another point on the electromagnetic scale. In low light conditions I see in monochrome or black and white. Seeing in darkness takes a similar adjustment.”

“Okay I see,” he beamed while I rolled my eyes at his pun, “go on,” he replied, “anything else you notice that’s different.”

“If I concentrate I can see in a type of micro and macro vision. It is similar to using binoculars at a distance or a microscope with objects up close. At times I see squiggly lines switching between the choices. With some things that I touch I can feel like I’m being watched.”

“What do you mean by being watched? Can you describe the feeling?”

“Like someone peeking over your shoulder, you just feel it, or maybe ...,” I mused as another thought crowded in, “I’m peeking over somebody’s shoulder.”

“Ah, I see, do continue.”

“The only thing worth mentioning is that my sense of smell now includes an ability to detect patterns.” Seeing his quizzical look I added, “It’s like how a forest smells after rain; I can detect a difference from a previous visit; if there in fact is a difference. But I can’t tell you what is missing.”

“Fascinating,” he declared, “but weren’t you already tested for those things, and why are they not noted?”

“A couple of reasons,” I offered, “I’ve had almost two years to get used to my change, and all the latest change has done is to refine my senses. I guess body language plays a part in their evaluation and by now it seems normal to me so there wasn’t anything that was troubling to me. In the lab there is no need or room for the binocular effect. It was a combination of time constraints, them not asking the right questions, and me being comfortable in my skin.”

He looked at me fully before answering, “That seems a likely explanation. I believe you have Circe next and you do not want to keep her waiting.”

Nodding I got up and left, using the map I had been given to find Circe’s classroom and lab I found myself stopped by a gray wall. There was a type of white noise in my ears; this noise was from within me and not coming from the environment.

I again traced the map using my finger as a guide returning to this same place. I suspected this was part of the test. I carefully felt along the wall for any hidden triggers and finding none.

Frustrated I shifted tactics while remembering some advice I was once given; “The answer is within you.”

Images of tropical wet rain-forest environment surfaced along with tents and structures and beds covered with mosquito netting. The webbing was used to keep the unwanted insects at bay.

Looking again at the wall using my near sight the wall blurred until I saw fine strands began emerging from the solid surface, forming a network of interlocking triangles that masked the entrance to Circe’s classroom and lab.

The matrix congealed to resist my efforts to gain entrance. I intensified my energy at my core, seeing pools of it forming and then hesitatingly using one finger lightly touched the web. Immediately it began humming and tension increased along it’s interface.

“Stop,” a voice shouted.

Startled I lost focus and inhaled sharply, and then watched the intricate design disintegrate leaving behind a confused student and an angry instructor.

“Damn, now I have to rebuild that.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” I replied.

Circe bit back the retort on her lips remembering she was the new kid and something of an oddity. She cocked her head, studying the new student, “No I don’t believe you did, but it doesn’t help build a new one. Never mind follow me in.”

I followed her inside and to a table with materials already laid out. Frowning while tapping her cheekbones, Circe mused, “I believe you have some affinity for magic, probably in arcane, hermetic, or runes. I take it you haven’t actually tried to produce any effects through formulas.”

I shook my head, “I hadn’t even thought about magic until last Saturday.”

“You’ll probably start with the Theory of Magic 101 but,” she replied searching through the materials until she found what she was looking for; a teardrop shaped jade pendant with a silver chain passing through a drilled hole in the wide end.

“Jade is prized for its metaphysical properties,” Circe continued handing me the stone, “and it a good starting place for you to play with.”

At my startled look she explained, “Most magic is formed from essence obtained any number of ways: Some through using ingredients or ceremony and others through using objects. Many mages gather and store essence in crystals for later use. This stone is clean or clear of any but natural forces that all crystals share.”

In lecture mode she elaborated further, “I know your magic is reactionary, at least so far, but I don’t know where or how you acquire and store your essence. The nature, and amount you enhance this stone will tell me a lot about whether you use natural magic or use magic naturally.”

Seeing my confused face she continued, “If you can’t enhance the stone in the next week then your type of magic works through recipes or ceremonies. If however, you can charge the stone it will mean you are drawing from your environment. But I don’t want you to do this in any of the buildings on campus as they are all warded and may contaminate the results, if any. In other words I want to eliminate any variables we can. I also want you to take notes when you try this. Something may show up that will help.”

“I believe I understand what you want and I’ll be sure to do my best. Do you suggest any certain time of the day.”

“It’ll best if you can pick a time when you won’t be disturbed and if at all possible the same, or close to the same time each day.”

“Thanks I’ll do just that.” Circe dismissed me and began to rebuild her illusion.

After lunch, Sam intercepted me in front of Crystal Hall as I was leaving to take my placement test in math.
“Change of plans; Mrs. Carson wants us in her office asap.”

“I’m supposed to be taking a test,” I quipped.

“It’ll wait,” she growled, “It’s not nice to keep the Headmistress waiting.” I followed her into Schuster Hall past the receptionist’s desk and to Mrs. Carson’s door. Sam knocked.

“Come in.”

The Headmistress was seated behind her desk; on her left already seated in standard office chairs were Chief Delarose and Gunny Bardue.

Circe and Dr Bellows were seated next to them, then Nikki, and beside her an empty chair. I sat trying to piece things together.

Seeing my confused and concerned look Mrs. Carson smiled reassuringly, “No dear this is not a lynching party. I originally scheduled it for just you, me, and Nikki. Circe called citing an urgent need, and Dr Bellows as your adviser is here to help sort out your schedule. Security is here for two reasons; because of your unusual request to roam the forest as a bounty hunter, and Emanuel R. Black. I believe you know him Nikki is here because she is going to introduce you to the Medawihla tribe later today”

Manny!OMG! Would she be glad to see him? You bet. But he had left before the kidnapping and her 2nd change. Would he see much change?

“Manny! Really! Wow, I'll be glad to see him. But he hasn’t seen me after my latest caper,” I cried.

“No he hasn't,” agreed Mrs. Carson, humming thoughtfully. “Atalanta I want you to understand that we do everything we can here to insure our students’ success. But that is a difficult task with so many varied needs. This meeting is for your benefit. We are hiring Mister Black for several reasons one is that he is at the top of his training and he has recommendations from some very high people, second, he knows you. He will be either security or faculty, maybe both, and can help guide us to better help you.”

“I can't help being a little concerned … about these extra security steps,” I answered defensively, “but,” I continued, smiling to remove the sting from the barb, “I understand why you are doing it, and I do believe you have our best interests at heart, also, I trust Manny with my life.”

But my best interests were not necessarily the schools. Not a biggie but something to file away.

Mrs. Carson noted the plural usage of the pronoun and not the singular. She continued, “From a report Mr. Geintz sent me, and what Circe reported, it seems our powers lab missed a few things on you. Normally that would present a problem as our emerging students have a waiver to travel here, but everyone needs their MID cards issued during combat finals to travel for Christmas. Since you are staying here that won't be a concern. There is a concern with combat training that the MCO might label you a threat and authorize lethal force.”

“Mrs. Carson,” I interrupted, “Mr. O’Reilly has already approved my MMID card. Both my parents were military. Dad died in uniform, and he had his 20+ years in. And MMID's are classified. ”

“You are right, Atalanta you do; I forgot and it'll work better for our purposes. But back to the powers lab based on what Mr. Geintz and Circe reports, we changed your rankings in several categories. One is the Wiz that is bumped up to 4 mainly because,” Mrs. Carson paused a hint of a smile briefly passing her lips; “you’re a danger or accident waiting to happen.” I grimaced as I recalled destroying Circe's door while keeping my head lowered purposefully looking at Nikki.

“So we are looking into hiring a tutor for you in the arcane to help you develop control. Dr. Bellows tells me you are adjusting well to your sex change, and from your initial test results you'll be joining the sophomore class in traditional high school curriculum.

Your mutant based classes are a mixture of basic and advanced. We’ll know more after we come back from Christmas break, but here is a schedule of classes that we believe you will qualify for,” Mrs. Carson continued handing me a sheaf of papers across the desk, “we can't really fill out a schedule yet but this should give you an idea of when what's available. You might try a buddy system for your mundane classes the majority of which are offered between 9am and 2pm.”

Mrs. Carson paused to drink from the water glass beside her. “Atalanta, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone here at the school during Christmas break. Ordinarily our security would be enough but since we don’t know exactly how you will interact with the magic on campus and our instructors are leaving too for Christmas I have something else lined up for you.”

“I’ll be tagging along with you?” I asked innocently. Sam remained absolutely still while a tiny shiver shook Delarose and a quick puff of air escaped from between Bardue’s lips. Nikki’s eyes widened and she mouthed a silent, ‘are you crazy.’

“Don’t be absurd,” she retorted, “I’m referring to the Medawihla Reservation. The Tribe owns all the land around here and controls access to the lands and any bounties that maybe offered. Ben and Eloise, the council elders, have agreed to meet with you tomorrow at their home to discuss you staying with them for a few days.”

“Samantha and Nikki will accompany you to and from the village, and most likely next week when you return. You may go,” she finished referring to me and Nikki.

Samantha rose to follow Atalanta but sat back down at Mrs. Carson’s hand wave. A few minutes later her door opened to admit Geintz who sat in the chair vacated by Atalanta.

Mrs. Carson wasted no time coming right to the point, “From the latest reports by Dr. Geintz and Circe, earlier tests done with Atalanta missed a few things.”

“We all knew that Atalanta’s five senses were enhanced; not really all that remarkable because most mutants receive upgrades. What’s unsettling though, the enhancement that was missed despite several examinations and the types of upgrades she received.” Dr. Geintz paused to let his audience absorb his information.

“This next is self reported by Atalanta today and needs to be verified but she can smell patterns, has normal and telescopic and microscopic vision, as well as the ability to screen out colors.”

“I don’t see how being color blind is an advantage.”

“Technically and in a vacuum it’s not, but almost all nocturnal mammals have some type of color blindness that’s due to the overwhelming amount of rods that makes efficient use of low light. The disadvantage is you’re sacrificing acuity but Atalanta seems to be able to compensate by her sense of taste, smell, and hearing. Ever hear of echolocation?”

“Vaguely, isn’t that similar to radar?” Dr. Bellows asked.

“Close enough for our purposes. So what we seem to have here is the ability to shift vision among normal, telescopic, microscopic, and between daylight or nighttime vision as she needs or wants to,” Louis Geintz added.

“I get your point,” Elizabeth Carson replied, “is that all you have?”

“Not quite, she described her moves with the New Olympians as déjà vu; some type of precog ability I’d say.”

“Would you care to guess what triggers her precog or how developed it is?” Mrs. Carson queried.

“The best I can offer is that as a Paragon it is probably tied to her particular skill and that seems to be a warrior.”
The Headmistress nodded thoughtfully before turning to her mystic head: “Circe I believe you have something to add to this discussion.”

“As you know my classroom and labs are hidden; except for my students or from those who can at least sense magic. Most magic users will find the hidden latch or failing that find another class. Until today nobody has shaken my wards apart. I believe she is interacting with a divine magic similar to Kerry Ellison. Kerry’s magic took the form it did because during her formative period she was confined in a church.”

“I take it you believe Atalanta is in her formative period.”

“I do,” Circe conceded, “Kerry’s is and was benign but who knows what Atalanta’s will be? She needs to be carefully guided; especially concerning is the training she has already received.”

While I have a few minutes of down time I thought to post an additional chapter. I'd like to say that I can return to a regular habit of a chapter every few days but I just don't know. Writing and posting Atalanta's Story has been a type of therapy so I appreciate that you like the story. I also want to thank Bill Durr who encouraged me and Ashleigh.

Atalanta, Sam, Nikki, and Hank visit the Medawhiia tribe and as usual something happens unexpected. As usual Atalanta finds herself in the mix of something she didn't start.

Chapter 24

“I’m sorry you got stuck showing me the reservation,” I said as Nikki and I we walked towards Poe to wait until Sam was finished.

“No problem,” she waved off my apology, “I’ve wanted to see Eloise and Ben but just couldn’t seem to find the time.”

“What do you suppose they are talking about,” I inquired and then laughed at Nikki’s raised eyebrow. “Yeah I know it has something to do with me, but what have I done now?”

“What have you done now?” Nikki echoed as we walked through the door at Poe, “I have no idea what kind of mischief you’ve been up to today,” she mocked.

“Haven’t you heard the latest,” Ayla spoke up from Kimba corner where he was lounging with the rest of the team.

Why, what did you hear,” Nikki teased.”

“Well girl what I heard was...bad, but I defended you. No way I said, even she wouldn't do that...you didn’t, did you.”

“Yeah I kind of blew up Circe's magic door,” I replied followed by a round of laughter the loudest coming from Nikki and Ayla.

“Oh come on dish out the dirt.”

I then recounted the tale drawing an outrageous revue of events,

“So,” Nikki replied dabbing at her tears, “you blew up her door,” her voice straining to talk past her laughter, “and then offered to build her a new one. It’s a wonder she didn’t give you a new one,” stressing the last three words.

“Hey,” I declared, “it was an accident.”

“I’m beginning to wonder,” Jade howled through tears of laughter, “if Whateley will survive three years of you.”

“That’s not fair,” I pouted poking a finger in Jade’s rib, causing her to erupt into more laughter.

“Atalanta, don’t let them get to you,” Hank his tone soft, “it could happen to anybody,” he continued a smile playing at the corners of his mouth revealing a cute little dimple in his cheeks.

Whoa where had that thought come from?

“…Not. No kidding,” he grinned as his dimples deepened, “Atalanta you are one of a kind.”

“It will be different for Mrs. Carson to be riding someone besides us,” declared Chou.

“Exactly how did you manage it,” Billie asked me.

“I’d like to know that myself.” Sam had just walked in through the threshold and quickly continued, “You ready to go,” she asked me.

“Oh, no it is the hole for you.”

“Don’t worry we’ll bake a cake and put a file in it,” another person declared.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Jade jeered, grinning.

“Knock it off,” Sam commanded, adding, “You ready Nikki?”

The comments that followed include jibes at me for leading poor Nikki astray before Sam restored order. In the silence that followed, Hank’s words echoed loudly.

“Would you mind if I came along?” Sam shrugging told me and Nikki to get ready while she called Mrs. Carson for the okay.

Samantha Everheart grinned as she walked beside the two girls and Hank as they kept up a constant stream of chatter. She was surprised that Mrs. Carson had approved Hank to accompany them. The question in her mind was what had prompted Hank to ask.

She got real enjoyment as Atalanta introduced Fey and Hank to Mr. Hawthorn formally. Fey executed her part exchanging pleasantries with the old tree as if they were long lost kin. Hank watched with Sam, from a distance.

When we had resumed walking I asked Sam, “So how bad was I drawn and quartered?”

“Bad enough but I predict you’ll survive,” Samantha smirked.

“What other choice do I have?”

“Just one,” Sam parried before adding, “You know you’re doing nothing to ease anyone’s perception of you, don’t you?”

“Does it matter?”

Sam shrugged, “Probably not.”

The air was crisp and sunny not a cloud in the sky though each of us wore a light jacket against the chill. Even though it was unseasonably warm the threat of winter in New England was very real.

Hank fell into step beside me while Sam and Nikki led the way.

“What was it like for you,” I asked softly.

“What was what like,” he returned whispering.

“The whole sex change thing: and growing up as a girl.”

Hank turned his head to see if I was serious, “Funny nobody has asked me that,” he returned wistful, “and you would think with as many male to females somebody would be curious.”

“It could be,” I replied lightly, “that they felt it was a downgrade to be turned into a girl: maybe jealous.”

“It maybe that,” he laughed softly, “but to your question; if I answer yours, you have to answer one for me.”

I nodded, “Deal.”

“Expectations,” he began, “it was about expectations … and reputation. Almost all little girls have expectations of Prince Charming; a white knight saving the damsel in distress. Getting married and our wedding day and the perfect dress and having babies,” he intoned in a sing song voice as his eyes looked to a far off horizon.

“Sorry,” he said shaking his head, “… anyway those expectations no longer apply and I have to set new expectations. If I had my choice I would have remained a girl,” he concluded.

“Me too,” I replied, “I would have chosen to remain as a boy but I can’t say I’m unhappy in this body either. I have a lot of new friends and my Mom and Manny helped me to set expectations, though to be truthful my expectations as a boy were more inferred than talked about. But I don’t understand why that would be that way.”

“I think I can help with that,” Hank responded. “Traditionally women are the caretakers of the family; they are the ones that organize family reunions, give support to the ones that are experiencing grief and loss. The keepers of family lore and heirlooms and the ones that remembered important dates and brought flowers for those that have passed on.” He paused to let the information sink in, “Women hold the family unit together because they are the ones that have babies and it’s very important to remember that the man can leave, deny being the father; the woman cannot. We have that responsibility for life. So a lot of energy is spent on the effect of choices and expectations.”

“Wow,” I interjected, “Mom and I had the talk but it never went into that detail.”

“I’d be surprised if she did,” Hank assured me, “Mine was reinforced almost daily by my Mom, girl cousins, aunts, and classmates as I grew up.”

“So you fit in, and didn’t feel out of place?” I asked as we descended deeper into the forest.

“Not at all, what about you what was it like growing up as a boy?”

I gave that considerable thought before answering, “I grew up an Army brat like you and I didn’t make many friends. Our relatives were strewn all over the country so I didn’t bond with any cousins: boy or girl. I was expected to stay out of trouble, get good grades, and go to college. That’s about it,” I shrugged.

“You never felt out of place or wondered what being a girl was like?”

“I felt out of place at school, where the other students had a history with their classmates. Dad was gone most of the time, I had few friends but no long term ones, so most of the time it was Mom and me. I like to read and learn new things and when we got to a new base Mom would take me around the historical sites. I liked comics, online role playing games and swimming. I pretty much hung around the house, helped Mom and entertained myself.”

“You know,” I continued, “We both changed before, at, or during puberty so in a sense other than appearances and mentally, we were never fully our birth sex.”

“Yeah,” Hank agreed, “If we had changed at 17 or 18 and fully developed I can see us having more problems adjusting.”

“I just thought of another expectation…,baby!” I exclaimed snapping my fingers. Hank cocked an eyebrow at me; smiling.

“No, you blockhead,” I snapped. “As a boy we were expected to suck it up and if we didn’t …”

“You were labeled a sissy,” he cried beaming.

Humph! Men really are clueless.

“Wrong!” Hank’s smile disappeared replaced by lines creasing his forehead. “But don’t feel bad most men wouldn’t get it either,” I teased smiling while wondering at my choice to massage his male ego.

“I’ll give you another hint,” I smirked.

“…Hints,” He snorted and countered smiling, “What is with girls never coming to the point.”

“If you guys would shut up and listen,” I parried, “we wouldn’t have to hint. We could just come tell you, but then it will just go over your head so we have to let you think it was your idea.”

“If you girls didn’t always have to get the last word in …”

“We do not.”

“Do.”

“Do not.”

“Settle down back there,” Sam growled grinning.

“Where were we?” Hank asked mumbling.

“Dare you to say that fast ten times,” I laughed.

“No thanks, once was hard enough.”

“I was giving you an expectation that boys are expected to suck it up and be a man and the name you’d be called if you didn’t and you said …”

“Sissy,” he grinned at me.

“And I said wrong. Tell me something Hank, growing up, what soft cuddly name did your parents call you? I’ll give you a hint; it wasn’t sissy.”

“Baby,” he cried triumphantly.

“Bingo,” I exclaimed adding, “for boys it is a singular pejorative as in “a baby” but for girls it is a collective compliment as in baby girl.”

“That is an interesting thought on expectations we grow up with,” Hank mused, “and just one example of the changes on perspectives we changelings go through.”

I agreed.

“Now I have to get all worked up and offended and beat up on anybody that calls me a baby,” he threatened. I grinned at his use of hyperbole. “And you …”

“And me,” I prompted.

“And you dream about your wedding day and the perfect dress and making babies.”

My belly did flip-fops and the blood drained briefly from my extremities, the hot denial dying in it’s infancy. Other than Mom’s warning about pregnancy this issue of love, marriage, and a family had not been a topic we discussed. It was not even on my radar.

But it was now.

I quickly checked in on my body’s response to those ideas and the lack of negative feedback unnerved my self-image.

Concerned at my lack of response Hank spoke, “Atalanta I didn’t …”

“You didn’t,” I interrupted, “why do you think I took self-defense training? I just had never connected marriage with it; that’s all.”

“Good, it is a lot to take in.”

“It is,” I agreed and went returned to the task at hand.

The forest journey went quickly; and I was surprised at the green still left on the undergrowth and the maturity in this part of the forest. In some points briars and bushes threatened progress, in others the canopy of branches were high enough and the hardwood spaced far apart enough to conduct battles on.

The forest was full of life both with chlorophyll or blood coursing their veins, watching the intruders silently, the flesh and blood ilk watching at a distance.

I noticed our heading as due north, except for a detour to the east of a couple hundred yards, and then back on the due north heading. I didn't say anything but I felt tingling on my shoulder and filed it for later exploration.

Nikki stopped at the top of a rise as we viewed the town laid out on the valley; a meandering stream in the distance crisscrossing dropping down the from the sheer granite cliffs that hemmed in the town from the north. More of the mountain range poked at the sky farther west and south. While to the east and southeast the sod rolled in a series of undulations towards Whateley, Dunwich and eventually Berlin.

Chimney smoke drifted lazily in the afternoon air; below traffic was increasing most of it foot traffic, or horse drawn wagons, though the occasional automobile or more often trucks prowled the streets. Overall it felt and looked no different than a thousand other small towns in America. It had one main street that intersected with side streets that ran north and south warranting only a blinking caution light.

At the far end of the intersection perched a gas station repair shop and blacksmith. Across the street was the veterinary with the medical clinic located next door. Beside the clinic were the town hall/ tribal council building and across the street sat the general store containing mostly hardware and hunting/fishing supplies.

I also saw a department store that sold clothing and household goods, a grocery store and electronics. Past the intersection I saw an attorney's office, a craftsman supply, a building supply and an electrician and plumber business. I had a better view from the hillside than I had from ground level on Monday.

Across the street and on their side of the road was most likely town maintenance judging from the equipment scattered here and there, with the jail and tribal deputy’s office lining up next. Farther to the west a small red brick school building rested serenely in the morning light. Farther still, but close enough to take advantage of the stream's fall from the cliff a huge waterwheel was erected that served to grind flour and meal as well as serve as a backup power station. On either side of the streets laid out neatly were plots of land and housing.

“They are expecting us,” Nikki declared, “Let's go on down.

We followed a worn path across a foot bridge that led to an intersecting street which Nikki turned on, and stopped at the third residence before walking up to the door. Before she could knock the door opened and a middle age, tall, athletic woman walked out on the porch walking with cat-like grace. Beside her was a wide-shouldered, barrel-chested bear of a man.

“Welcome Your Highness.”

Your Highness?

“It's Nikki,” she corrected softly, “You know Sam?” Eloise and Ben nodded.

“This is Atalanta,” she continued pointing at me.

“Glad to meet you,” I said.

“You look … just as I had you pictured,” Eloise drawled, her eyes narrowing. Nikki and Sam exchanged quick glances.

“And this is Hank who wanted to come along, to keep Atalanta company.”

“Ah I see,” Eloise responded her face masked as she wrapped her arm around Ben, “Behind every good woman …”

Ben smiled good naturedly at their inside joke. I felt heat creep into my cheeks at her suggestion.

“That’s what Mom said, too,” I replied evenly.

“Smart woman,” Eloise replied adding, “Come on in, sit down and we’ll talk.”

I followed the Connors inside while Sam and Nikki hung back with a few random words drifting to my ears. Hank was on my heels. The house was furnished functionally and comfortably; a coat rack beside the door, a sofa, chairs, end tables and a TV in a far corner with a center throw rug and coffee table on it. It was as I remembered it.

Eloise led the way to the combination kitchen and dining area and where I again noted modern appliances. I was reminded once more at the differences between this village and the ones I had seen back home. The Medawihla tribe seemed to have its foot firmly planted in the 21st century.

“Coffee, tea, or water,” Eloise asked her guests.

“Nothing for me,” Sam declined as she didn’t posses a human digestive tract.

Nikki and Hank wanted water. “And coffee for you,” Eloise said pouring me a cup while speaking, her back to the group.

Sam and Nikki again exchanged quick looks at Ben and Eloise and then at me. As she handed me my cup our eyes met and an understanding passed between us.

“I have something to tell you all, but I need your word to keep it to yourself for the time being,” I started once everyone had seated.

Sam being a part of the staff responded, “I’ll have to reserve judgment but as long as it doesn’t compromise my ability to do my job I will remain silent.”

“Good enough,” I declared and I went on to relate the details from last Friday until Monday evening.

“So while everyone thought you were in a safe house, you were out traipsing around the wilderness,” Nikki accused, “Why didn’t you let the school and Mrs. Carson know where you were?”
Sam looked on with interest.

“An ambush was set for me using the school’s van and they had a school ID of me for identification. What would you think?” I countered. “Besides,” I added, “your father signed off on it. Leaks at the school had implications for all student safety and I’m sure your safety entered into it. And it worked, we found the leak.”

“Really,” Sam asked leaning forward, “Who was it?”

“As I understand it, it isn’t a person but a backdoor into the internal emails generated with an unauthorized address included. While it was centrally accessed the Trojan was installed with the system. I think they are probably sorting that out now.”

“Does Mrs. Carson know about the security leak?”

I measured my response, “I don’t know; I have been out of the loop since my team brought me in.”

Sam wanted to know where I spent Monday night.

I demurred, telling them I didn’t have permission to share that information for the time being.

Eventually I got their round of questions answered and then we got down to the reason for the trip.

“Now tell me a little about yourself and why you feel a need to be a huntress. And tell me something about this bounty program,” Eloise smiled.

I told of my lost canyon transformation and the subsequent adjustments and my dreams of Atalanta and the running dreams. “I think Atalanta is my exemplar and she was a hunter, as am I. Atalanta also has my old name, Alan, in it. Back home the shepherds paid a bounty for lions and wolves and such and I have also done some wildlife tagging. The folks at Whateley seemed to feel that after being shot I am an imbued paragon now. ”

I then rolled up my sleeve revealing the owl relief etched in my arm.

“That looks like a birthmark.”

“It is a birthmark,” I declared, “though it is only a few week old.”

“I believe,” Ben interjected, “we can probably work out something in tagging and relocating wildlife. The state and federal wildlife agencies have been pressuring us for a population count. We’ve been reluctant to agree because of our unique nature.”

Eloise continued asking, “Do you know, or has anyone told you what Ben’s referring to by our unique nature?”

My dumbfounded look said I didn’t.

“The Medawihla Tribe is a tribe of Weres, Ben is a Were Bear and I’m a Panther.”

“Oh,” I answered surprised, “that’s interesting. Though,” I turned to Ben, “my first impression of you was as a bear of a man,” I smiled at him.

“And you reminded me of the big cats I’ve seen in New Mexico,” I continued turning back to Eloise.

He grinned back at me and replied, “We keep a low profile and with good reason; we don’t like outsiders prowling around. With your experience we can satisfy both the concerns of our people and the various groups and agencies.”

“It’s something I’m good at.”

“I don’t like having anything to do with the government,” Eloise groused.

“I grew up an army brat so I never gave them a thought, but now that I’m classified as a mutant I’m starting to develop distaste as well,” I declared.

“I don’t like it either,” Ben agreed, “but now that we have our own police department the sheriff leaves us alone. Sooner or later the Feds will override any of our objections: if we don’t do something they will.”

“I know,” Eloise sighed, “but I still don’t like it. Still see what you can find out about it.”

“Excuse me,” I interjected as my shoulder image flared and rising to my feet, “but my other mother is calling me.” A curious entourage followed as I rushed to the door and outside to the covered porch which faced west.

A flash of color and movement alerted me, and as I walked briskly across the floor to the steps I heard a familiar screech. To my left and in the direction we had come, I saw a great owl perched in an evergreen.
Harvard!

He or was it she screeched again.

“Owls in the daytime are a bad omen,” Ben remarked.

I wasn’t listening, sprinting across the front of the house and confronting several cords of firewood blocking my path. In full stride my feet hit the tops of several stacks and gaining momentum with each step I launched head first into a full grown bull moose that was in a headlong charge.

His prey was a seven or eight year old girl in full flight screaming for all she was worth.

The full force of my 125 pound body slammed into his 1,000 pound frame. His charge broke as my right hand clutched one enormous antler creating leverage and twisting his head and neck in an unexpected direction with his body
following. As he went to one knee my legs swung around and clamped around his neck. I brought my free hand down hard on his nose.
He bellowed in pain.

My free hand reached into my boot and came out with a six inch dagger poised to strike his jugular vein. My hand froze in an overhead strike as Ben’s frantic shout reached me.

“Stop! He’s a Were moose. Dustin,” Ben’s shout warned me.

I swung free landing on the balls of my feet, knees bent and knife extended with my eyes flashing fire. I watched poised as the moose morphed into a moose of a man standing a foot taller than me with wide shoulders and long arms and legs.

After he had fully changed I sheathed my knife; I stepped up close and suddenly struck him on his neck with the edge of my hand. He folded like a beach chair on the ground.

Eloise began explaining, “That is Dustin Bull, a cousin visiting from a tribe from out west. He’s been nothing but a pain since he arrived, but his death here as an ambassador would be hard to explain.”

I nodded my eyes still riveted on the prone form.

“Atalanta, none of that takes away from your heroic actions at saving this little girl from certain harm and possible death. I don’t know what started this, but his actions are inexcusable. He is no longer welcome here. Ben,” she turned to her husband, “you know what to do.”

He nodded, “I do.”

Sam, Nikki, and Hank were standing off to one side watching me closely.

Dustin began to stir and climbed groggily to his feet shaking his head vigorously and automatically. With his long face and bushy tufts of hair he made a comical sight and suddenly I knew.

“Hey moose jaw,” I taunted.

His body tensed and he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Moose jaw, a little thinned skin are we? Well moose jaw,” I drawled evenly, “just so you know if Ben hadn’t stopped me I would have cut your throat. As far as I’m concerned it’s over with, but if you want a rematch now is the time to speak up.”

The challenge hung in the suddenly still air.

Ben broke the stalemate when he forcefully guided Dustin toward the street disappearing around a corner with a hand on his shoulder.

I turned to Eloise’s fixated gaze, “What?”

“You really would have killed him.”

“His jugular was the size of a rope,” I agreed.

By mutual and unspoken agreement we walked back inside the house. Once we were seated Eloise asked, “Tell me about your other mother.”

Blushing I replied, “I didn’t think anyone heard me. The owl showed up first as I was hunting the people who kidnapped my Mom and guided me to her, and then saved my life when one of the kidnappers shot me. I believe she’s connected to the Five-Fold Court. I think she’s Athena, but she wants to remain somewhat a mystery, so I have tagged her as my other mother."

Ben had come in while I was explaining; remaining quiet, listening attentively, he finally spoke, “What do you know about the Five-Fold Court?”

“I know there was a court for each direction and each was affiliated with an element and the center court is what held the whole thing together.”

“That pretty much sums it up,” Eloise responded, “but the center court enforced its decisions through an enforcer. We believe whoever she was; was killed and over time the Court lost it’s effectiveness before splintering into various factions and then fading into history’s dustbins.”

An image flashed across my mind too fleeting to capture.

We then hammered out an agreement whereby I would spend Sunday through Thursday with the Donners.

“Now Atalanta I want to call and talk with your mother. If she’s not all right with you staying here, then I’m afraid you’ll have to spend Christmas in your room.”

I took the phone she handed me and called home, “Mom it’s me,” I said when she picked up the call.

After we exchanged pleasantries I handed the phone to Eloise and they talked for a half hour and I was sure that I was being dissected. Next she talked briefly with Sam who then handed the phone back to me.

She gave me the required talk about being a good guest; “Atalanta I miss you so much.”

“Mom I miss you too and I wish I was with you too.” We hung up to the words of ‘I love you.’

Eloise and Ben followed us outside as we had to leave to go back to the Academy.

“What happened back there,” Nikki asked. Atalanta perplexed her; she and Team Kimba were no strangers to violence and had dished out their own share of violence. It was the speed, suddenness, and the finality of her actions that flummoxed Fey. Atalanta showed none of that in dealing with Tatiana and the New Olympians.

“You mean about the moose,” I asked smiling gently.

“Yes, the moose,” Nikki pushed out a pent up breath, “You meant to kill him,” she stated.

“Yes and I would have if Ben hadn’t stopped me.”

“But why,” Nikki stammered, “you didn’t show that level of aggression at the school with Tatiana or the New Olympians.”

I stopped walking placing my hands on my hips and facing my three companions, “It is pretty damn simple,” I drawled evenly. “The short answer is, I reacted as I was trained; the school has rules that exclude death by combat. A child’s life was in danger in this instance and that includes no mercy rules.”

The silence deepened as they digested my words and apparently came to an agreement, “That makes sense,” Hank smiled at me; dimples and all.

I relaxed, “Thanks,” I replied softly.

Nikki and Sam led the way while Hank walked beside me, “Don’t take it personally Atalanta; the truth is people don’t know how to take you. You set this school on its ear even before you arrived on campus.”

“I guess I have,” I replied looking at the surrounding forest, “things just seem to happen around me and I act.”

“Yes you do.”

I'm sorry I never meant to be this late posting the next chapter. I know how irritating it can be to be reading a story and have it go missing for a month and you have go back and read up. The fallout from my daddy's passing and one sister's refusal to talk sucked all creative energy from my heart.

Last week I started writing a trashy erotic story that I have no intention of posting in its current version but there's nothing like sex and sex scenes to spark my creative muse.. Again I apologize for the delay and will finish the posting for this book in the next two weeks.

As a gentle reminder in the last Chapter Atalanta was introduced to the Medawihla Indians who she is to spend Christmas with. While there she almost creates a diplomatic incident when she almost kills a visiting Were Moose and ends with the group back on school grounds.

Back at the school Mrs. Carson gets a call and a visitor and Atalanta reconnects with an old friend.

Chapter 25

Elizabeth Carson picked up the ringing phone, “Yes.”

“This is Eloise Donner.”

Mrs. Carson momentarily felt fluttering butterflies, “Eloise I’m glad to hear from you. How did the meeting go? I assume they have left.”

“Yes they have left. I talked with Atalanta’s mother too. We’ve made arrangements for her to spend Christmas here with us.”

Elizabeth long used to negotiation tried a different approach, “Well what did you think of our new girl?”

“I can see why you might want Atalanta off campus during Christmas break,” Eloise’s brittle laugh echoed.

“What happened,” Elizabeth asked softly.

“It’s actually kind of funny now but at the time it wasn’t. We had a visiting dignitary; a Were moose named Dustin Bull, who has been a pain in the rear and we were looking for a reason to send him on his way. But you know how tribal councils and treaties work; our hands are basically tied.”

Elizabeth listened silently and waited for the reveal, “We were all seated in the kitchen when suddenly Atalanta bolted for the door, and we followed her outside where she launched herself at a bull moose charging a neighbor’s 8 year old girl, who was about to be trampled under his hooves.”

“And Atalanta intervened?”

“Indeed she did. She bulldogged that moose to one knee, and would have killed him if Ben hadn’t stopped her.”

Elizabeth sighed inwardly. Every freshman class had one; the one student that was a trouble magnet. She had thought this year was going to be different but Atalanta looked as if she was going to be this year’s contributor.

“Are you sure that she could have, and would have?”

“Yes on both counts, and to be honest he deserved it, but I’m glad politically that Ben stopped it.” Eloise wasn’t certain why she didn’t mention Atalanta’s boot knife.

Elizabeth offered her counterpart an olive branch, “Eloise if you’re not sure we can call this off.”

“No,” she teased, “I’ve made my bed and now I have to live in it.”

Whateley’s Headmistress silently breathed easier at that statement; she needed that week off from this madhouse. Elizabeth felt that Eloise was playing her own game; that she felt was benefiting her people. A game, that if she misplayed it, at least it wasn’t going to spill over onto Whateley adversely.

They hung up after exchanging season pleasantries. Before she could return to her required paperwork, her intercom buzzed.

She looked at the wall clock and answered, slightly annoyed at yet another interruption, “Yes?”

“Mr. Black is here for his 2pm appointment.”

“Tell him I’ll be with him in a few minutes,” Mrs. Carson replied as she reached for her phone and dialed security.

“Chief.”

“Yes,” Chief Delarose answered.

“Manuel Black is outside my office, I thought he’d see you first before coming here.”

“I haven’t seen him, but I’m on my way over right now.”

“Good,” she replied placing the phone on the cradle.

Mrs. Carson swung her chair facing a blank wall and considered this new potential hire. Mr. Black would have enough understanding to see his immediate supervisor first before coming to her, so obviously this was a ploy to gain some perceived advantage which could be anything. The simplest course she decided was just simply to ask.

Manny settled into the chair to wait after Mrs. Carson’s receptionist paged her. “She’ll be right with you in a few minutes.”

He nodded as he reviewed the events of the last week starting with Atalanta’s call and ending with Director O’Reilly’s offer. The offer intrigued him on different levels and came at a time when he was seriously deciding to rejoin the military. After almost two years the construction gig was becoming stale, although the New Mexico job had proved enlightening, while the latest foray had helped establish severed connections from his growing up in LA.

He had received satisfaction from taking the blueprints and ideas from the drawing board to the completion, but it didn’t hold his interest the way his military excursions had.

Until recently his future had been mapped out for him; three to six months on assignment with a month to unwind, then to a school for up to a year, and then another assignment. It was always with the same group of players unless they had cycled out or KIA. Guys that you could trust at your back and that you could depend on, and you had developed a sixth sense with. That had all changed on a mission four years ago where plans had been compromised and he had lost three buddies in the action.

When his time to re-enlist came, he had opted out of the military to see if he could make civilian life work. After two years, life as a citizen was quickly losing it's luster and he was back at square one: The military looked bright again.

He smiled to himself as he waited knowing that in coming directly to the Headmistress he had upset their standard procedure. He was interested in seeing how they responded to both his action and his appearance. Mirrored wraparound sunglasses, form fitting long sleeved shirt under a leather jacket and chinos all in black completed the mysterious men in black image he had cultivated for his own amusement.

As he waited, he studied the students and staff, wondering if he could fit in here. He didn’t think so, but for Atalanta’s sake he’d stick with it until the school year ended. He had a gut feeling that their paths were destined to intertwine for their immediate futures.

The outside door opened to admit a man in his 60’s with a full head of hair tinged with gray streaks, a ready smile and a natural spring in his step. He carried himself erect and a steady gaze.

“I’m Franklin Delarose; Whateley’s Security Chief,” he said extending a hand, “I expected that you’d come by and see me first.”

Manny politely ignored the offered hand until he was level with the man, “Manny Black,” he replied, “Mr. O’Reilly said it was Mrs. Carson that called.”

“Ginny will you let Mrs. Carson know we are here?”

“Of course,” she replied speaking into an intercom and then directed them inside.

He followed Delarose into the room and carefully shut the door while taking a position perpendicular to her desk all the while scrutinizing the interior and the occupant behind the desk. He read in her eyes and manner the same tough, single mindedness of purpose he had witnessed in squad and unit leaders. Their gazes locked briefly and acknowledgment passed.

“Please Mr. Black have a seat.”

“Manny,” he offered, sitting and patiently waited for the interview to start. An awkward silence followed as Delarose waited for Mrs. Carson to start the interview.

“We are all adults here so I’ll be direct,” Elizabeth Carson declared, “Mr. Black I’ve done a background check on you that brought up very little. I understand that is common in your line of work.”

Manny nodded, “What else would you like to know? I can take orders, get the job done and keep my mouth shut.”

The Headmistress narrowed her gaze; she didn’t care for his attitude but often competent men possessed a self-confidence that bordered on arrogance.

“We are always in need of security here.”

“As you say Mrs. Carson we are all adults here so let me be direct as well,” Manny interrupted, “I’m not a mall ninja or a rent-a-cop, and if that is what you want we are both wasting our time,” he finished rising to leave.

“Sit back down Mr. Black. We didn’t call you to do that. We called you because you know a new student that came in this past week. We’re concerned for her and about her on several levels.”

Black eased forward in his chair and asked evenly, “What type of concerns?”

“I understand you trained her.”

“You understand right; I did.”

“And I understand she is a Natural.”

“Yeah,” he hedged, “she certainly picked up stuff as easily as anyone that I’ve ever trained.”

“That’s not what I meant and I think you know it.”

He nodded, “Yeah you meant it with a military meaning and that is exactly the way I meant it too.” Manny decided that hedging wasn’t doing him or Atalanta any favors.

“Look,” he continued opening up, “She’s a good kid and we trained for several months before even the notion of a Natural came up. I had built a gun range that we used and I had just introduced her to the bow. Out of nowhere she bolts up the hillside and I reach her in time to see the third arrow hit a cougar in mid-air that was after a baby lamb. That was the first time I had her training with the bow.”
Manny paused choosing carefully his words, “It was at that point that I realized what she faced, and from then on I trained her with that in mind.”

“That’s when she became a bounty hunter?”

Manny nodded, “Yes, but I tried to buffer her from that attention.”

“Why?”

“When I realized she was a natural, I also knew the baggage that comes with it no matter what it is called. People, organizations, and governments recruit those individuals because they know what they can do too. For an awakened natural she or he will have enough organic opportunities without looking for them.”

“What do you mean by organic opportunities?”

“Things don’t happen in nature, in a vacuum, nor without reason. I know Atalanta and I know that she is a good kid with a heart of gold, so I assume there is a type of opposite activity that she will have to balance out. By organic opportunities I’m referring to the fact she foiled three attempts to kidnap her on the way here by the H1 and the MCO.”

“What!” both Mrs. Carson and Delarose exclaimed.

“You didn’t know?”

“It seems that is another part of an incomplete file that we have on Atalanta. Care to fill us in?” Mrs. Carson asked.

“Not much to tell,” Manny replied smiling, “a rogue splinter group from H1 sabotaged the fresh air system on the train car she was in from KC to St. Louis. They expected to find her unconscious from the bad air, but Atalanta had opened the windows and they became the surprised party instead.”

“And how do you know this?”

“She called me from the train, after it left St. Louis, for help. I had some contacts in Boston meet her at the train depot in Boston. The MCO tried to assume custody at the hotel, and later broke into a safe house. After those failed attempts my contacts then decided to drive her to Berlin where she caught the train into Dunwich.”

Then remembering their cover story he added, “After the train left the station my guys decided just to drive up to Dunwich. It was a good thing they did.”

Delarose and Mrs. Carson exchanged quick glances before Mrs. Carson pointed out, “Yes it was, but whether we hire you or not you seemed to have taken her under your wing.”

He replied agreeing, “I feel responsible, so yeah I’ll be around.”

They talked a little more before deciding on a six month contract that ran through the end of the school year, starting with the New Year. That gave him time to settle in his apartment on campus and complete whatever business he had left on the west coast.

Mrs. Carson walked them to the door, “Mr. Black, so we understand each other, my obligation is to the school and then the students. Can you give the school that type of dedication?”

“I can work with that.”

About halfway between the village and the school, Sam’s phone rang.

“What is over there,” I asked Nikki. We had stopped and I noticed the lush green growth.

Nikki’s face tightened, “That is the Grove; it is sentient and watches over the forest. People wander in and get lost for several days, somehow always coming out very close to where they go in and always the worse for wear. It is off limits.”

I smiled faintly at the notion of off-limits..

“We need to stop by and see the Chief when we get back,” Sam explained as she walked over.

I stopped at the old Hawthorne tree after we got back from the village to pay my respects; patted the tree’s trunk fondly and telling him about the village and the moose.

Sam, Nikki, and Hank watched from a safe distance.

“I’m getting hungry,” I said to Sam as we drew even with Poe, with Nikki and Hank separating to go inside.

“You’ll have time later,” Sam returned as we turned into Kane Hall, “The Chief wants to see you.”

Sighing I followed her down the hall to Delarose’s office. Maybe it said something about my status; I already knew several members of security by name and sight, as well as where the Chief’s office was located. What does that say about a student on her fourth day on campus?

“Do you know why the Chief wants to see me?” I asked as we walked.

She smiled at me shaking her head, “You’ll find out soon enough,” while knocking on the door and announcing us.

I trailed behind her as we entered. Delarose was seated and he had someone in the room with him. Sam was partially blocking my vision but he seemed familiar, “Manny,” I shouted striding quickly toward him ignoring Sam and Delarose. He gripped me in a bear hug as we embraced.

“How are you doing kiddo?” He asked me, grinning from ear to ear.

“A lot better now Manny. It sure is good to see a familiar face. What are you doing here? How long you staying? You have time for me to give you the ten cent tour. Have you talked with Mom?”

Manny held up his hands in surrender, “Be patient, all in good time.”

Delarose interjected, “Atalanta, Manny has come to work here.”

“Really, when do you start?” I asked Manny a goofy grin etched in my face.

“He starts New Years,” Delarose answered and added. “He is part of security and will be helping to train you as well.”

“So I have two babysitters,” I beamed walking between Manny and Sam hooking an arm in each of theirs.

“Manny have you met Sam…Samantha Everheart. Sam, meet Manny Black,” Delarose made the introductions. Manny raised an eyebrow but said nothing while shaking Sam’s hand.

“Atalanta I believe you still have time to make your appointment with Dr. Bellows, and Sam can show Mr. Black to his apartment. Afterwards you two can meet for dinner.” Delarose said dismissing us.

“Sure,” I replied, “Let’s go.”

Delarose stopped Sam, “Sam can catch up with you later Atalanta; she needs to file a report first.”

Sam nodded, “Okay Chief I’ll do just that,” she replied walking out with us and stopping at her cubbyhole.

Manny turning to Sam drawled, “I know of a Sam Everheart, are you any kin to him?”

“You might say that,” she teased him, “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“I’ll see you later for supper ,” I said to Manny who had joined Sam at her desk.

“I’ll meet you at Crystal Hall for supper;” he called out as I left him chatting with Sam as I left on my way to Kane Hall and my meeting with Dr. Bellows.

Wonder what insane ideas he will have for me?

I want to thank Bill and Asheligh for their help and encouragement and to the readers and their comments. It really is appreciated. I hope to get into regular postings--one or two chapters a week.

Dr. Bellows suggests a class change for Atalanta. Atalanta and Hank sit on the steps at Poe until Mrs. Horton runs them inside. Atalanta and Manny talk about Whateley and later she has a talk with her mom and we learn a little more about Audhilde.

Chapter 26

The hall was deserted; as was the desk that Dr. Bellows’ secretary normally occupied. His office door was open and I skirted the desk to knock on the doorframe. A locked briefcase occupied a side chair with an overcoat draped over the back. His desk was cleared of the usual bric a brac that seemed to always clutter desks. No coffee cups, water glasses, or loose pens and papers.

“Going somewhere Doc,” I inquired through the open doorway.

“Christmas Break. Come on in and have a seat,” he said after inviting me in and closing his door before occupying his usual seat behind his desk. His hands clasped in front of his body, elbows resting on the tabletop.

He leaned forward.

“Atalanta looking back on the week, what are your impressions and thoughts on anything, anyplace, or anybody? It doesn’t have to be connected with Whateley.”

I hesitated before speaking. “You asked for my general impressions. Let’s face it, if I was a girl you met on the street you wouldn’t be asking this question. So what you want to know about is my life as a mutant,” I snapped.

Dr. Bellows remained still his serene smile locked in place, his eyes locked on mine. Most people didn’t know Dr. Bellows was a low level mutant with weak empathetic abilities that he carefully hid. He could feel the waves of frustration and anger.

Still smiling he replied, “You’re right my only interest in you is as a lab rat.”

I got up from my seat and began pacing the floor before coming to a stop in front of his desk. Placing my hands on his desk I leaned forward, “Don’t patronize me doctor.”

I quickly resumed my pacing before stopping and quietly resuming my seat. “Labels, I hate labels. I hate these damn mountains around here,” I cried waving my arms to include the horizon behind him.

“Back home,” I continued, “the mountains were wide and expansive, they let you breathe. Here, they are right on top of you.”

It wasn’t the mountains that were bothering her.

“At home I was just a girl.”

“… That’s not quite true is it?”

I knew he was referring to the desert incidence, but especially the snowstorm rescue. He was right. After that scene in the cabin, life couldn’t go on as it had before.

I sat down, “I’m sorry doc. You’re right I couldn’t stay there.”

He remained quiet, waiting for me to continue.

“I felt this same way when Mom enrolled me in regular school this fall.”

“And how did you feel when she enrolled you here?” Dr. Bellows prompted.

Looking up at him through hooded eyelids, my lips thinned, “I didn’t want to be here either.”

“Why? What is it that bothers you most?”

I knew exactly what bothered me the most but I hesitated as I ran the reasons through my mental filters.

“Atalanta I want to help you - as your therapist and as your advisor, but I need your help and I need you to trust me.”

“So, this is a doctor patient confidentiality agreement then,” I asked with the tendons in my neck jumping.

“Yes,” he replied quickly, “but with a couple of exceptions; if I think you are a danger to yourself or to the school.”

“I have to trust you but you don’t have to trust me,” I drawled. “Okay I’ll tell you this much: I hate labels. I hate being labeled. You know the reason I didn’t like going to high school this fall? You know why I didn’t want to come here?”

“Labels,” he inquired mildly.

“Now you’re talking,” I declared.

“Some labels are necessary for …”

“Specific labels are necessary,” I agreed, “like eye color, height, weight, age, and so on. But general labels like mutant, nationality, education, religion, dangerous, and similar descriptors are prejudicial and stereotypical. These words are used to impose rules and limitations by those doing the labeling because they are just too damn lazy or incompetent to be bothered.”

“But …”

“But nothing, you wanted to know so you are going to listen,” I interjected, “When I changed, more than my body and sex changed. I’m nothing like Alan-.” I stopped speaking as I ran the name Alan over my tongue again. “In fact,” I continued, “that name seems alien, and like the name of someone I used to know. Alan wouldn’t mind rules; he wouldn’t mind classes that were boring. He didn’t know what he didn’t know.

I do know the difference. I can smell life on a breeze from the sap that flows in the trees and converted by sunlight to energy, to birds on the wing. Chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits scurrying for food, and the natural ozone water emits as it tumbles towards the ocean. Nature is life, and it is death, and I can sense both. Those are lessons that you don’t learn inside the classrooms, or being herded around like animals and put in our stalls at night.”

“Umm,” he replied, looking thoughtfully through my file. “You have been very helpful and insightful and maybe I should take another look at your schedule.”

I watched him, lightly drumming my fingertips on the chair arm as he consulted a list of classes and writing on a separate sheaf of papers. Finished he straightened up leaning back in his chair and studied me.

“Thank you for your honesty, and after taking a second look at your schedule, I do believe I have uncovered an opportunity for you to train your senses in a way you can’t in a classroom.”

Ruh-oh!

Butterflies floated in my stomach as my legs tingled.

“I had you penciled in the survival class, and thinking you might look into joining the Parkour Hooligans, I now feel you need a more balanced education. The good news is that Whateley has a very good Drama and Theatre department and I can get you in.”

“Drama …Theatre?” I asked as the blood drained from my face.

“Yes,” Dr. Bellows continued cheerfully, “and you will be in time to participate in the Spring play.”

“Doc I don’t know a thing about plays and stuff, and I don’t have any interest in learning.”

He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes pinning me as his voice carried, “Atalanta, I truly believe this gives you a chance to stretch yourself and test your senses in a way that they haven’t been tested, and you’ll learn more about yourself in the process.”

The admonishment to “know yourself”, from The Art of War jumped out at me.

“You have to admit it’s not your typical classroom.”

“I’ll give you that much,” I smiled wryly, “and you maybe right that I might learn something about myself.”

“Good that’s settled then, if I can work you in,” he replied standing and extending his hand, “Enjoy the break.”

“You too, Doc,” I returned grasping his hand and leaving the room to meet up with Manny. As he walked me to the door he asked me about my upcoming Christmas visit with the Medawihla Indians.

Manny was waiting for me outside and as we were walking toward Crystal Hall he asked, “Out with it Atalanta, what happened on your visit today?”

“What makes you think anything happened?” I inquired mildly.

“Oh, for one thing the report Sam had to make, and for another I know you,” he replied as he jostled me.

I filled him in on the morning’s activities as we went through the food line and after finding my table we sat down to eat.

“You carry that boot knife everywhere?”

I nodded, “I do.”

He leaned over and whispered “We need to have a talk somewhere private.”

I nodded not surprised, “I know just the place,” I grinned back at him. “First though I want to introduce you to some of my housemates,” as Nikki, Hank, Jade, Billy, and Chou sat down around us.

After the introductions were made, Chou quipped, “So are you here to keep Atalanta out of trouble?”

“No,” Manny replied fine lines appearing around his eyes, “I’m here to save the school from her.” Good natured jeers followed with Hank offering his escort services.

“Atalanta you are full of surprises,” Manny grinned at me as we were ensconced in the branches of Mr. Hawthorne.

“You wanted someplace private,” I reminded him.

When he told me we needed someplace private to talk the image of the giant hawthorn tree sprang to mind and after eating and trading barbs with my house mates I led him over to the ancient tree and introduced Manny as a friend.

After introductions we scrambled up into the tree and found a nice wide expanse that resembled a palm to rest on.

“I did, didn’t I,” he agreed. He paused to marshal his thoughts.

“When I left New Mexico I assumed you’d be there for another four years or so. I left a few things unsaid that now need to be said. The ranch was private lands and you didn’t have any local or formal security policy and it was surrounded by public or reservation land where custom formed the policy. Out there it was pretty much left to each person whether or not to go armed. Considering the wildlife and border issues that was probably the best decision.”

I nodded following along and guessing where this talk was leading to.

“There is an old saying,” he continued, “when in Rome do as the Romans do. That’s good advice for everyone to consider but particularly applies to people like me and especially for mutants like you. You don’t want your MMID card to list you as dangerous: authorizing deadly force.”

“This is about the moose today isn’t?”
He nodded, “Not entirely, but it does help illustrate a principal that you need to learn. Mrs. Carson, security, and faculty don’t know exactly how to classify you. That in itself is not a bad thing, but if you are going that route then you need to fly under the radar. You need to be seen obeying the rules.”

“I never initiated any of these confrontations.”

“I know Atalanta,” Manny sighed, “but as I told you out on the desert when you first started out, opportunities will come out of the woodwork. It’s almost like you’ve created a vortex; attracting this energy to you. Think of it as a test. Like a test those results will follow you around. What you want to be is classified as a non lethal threat and the best way to accomplish that is not to be carrying lethal weapons.”

“I know.”

“Are you carrying?”

I retrieved my knife from its concealed sheath; the afternoon sun absorbed by the flat matte and thick tanto design, the box cutter end constructed to penetrate. That particular knife was favored by US Special Forces.

“Did you bring your other edged weapons?”

“They’re in my room.”

“Okay I want you to leave them there at all times. Now that you are part of an organization, you will need to follow rules.”

I narrowed my eyes absorbing his thoughts, “I think I understand what it is that you’re saying but it was my instincts and your training that saved my rear end on the way out here. How do I balance rules with self-preservation?” I asked stubbornly.

Manny blew out air through his puffed cheeks, “Always follow your instincts but Atalanta …you are good enough to not need weapons; at least not here. This place is not a battlefield and even soldiers when they are on the base go unarmed unless it is in a warzone.”

I nodded replying, “It just feels so different out here.”

“You have to play the hand you’re dealt, not the one you wish you had.”

Dusk had settled and I had just seen Manny drive away. I really wanted to be in the car with him and though I had the money for round trip tickets, I knew better than to ask.

“I’ll see you next weekend,” he said.

“Are you going to take a side trip on your way back?”

“If nothing unexpected turns up, I will.”

“Tell Mom and Judy hello for me and that I love them.”

“I’ll do that, and stay safe,” Manny assured me as he put the vehicle in gear and drove away.

“You too,” I called and turning walked towards Poe where I sat on the steps. The lights were blinking on across campus as darkness tightened its grip.

“Mind if I sit down,” Hank asked stopping at the steps.

“No, help yourself,” I answered scooting over.

“How did it go with Dr. Bellows, did you get your classes sorted out?”

In the darkness I studied Hank’s manner and decided he didn’t know about the theatre class, “Yeah it is mostly sorted out with a few classes to be decided after Christmas. He thinks I should take Theatre but I don’t know about it.”

“A lot of people like it, but most of the people taking it are upper classmen.”

“Hey I’m special,” I joked.

“That you are,” he agreed whimsically: blushing.

Was he flirting with me? Feeling devious and remembering the date with Jack, I asked Hank about the school, what he liked and disliked about Whateley. What kinds of entertainment they had on campus and if students were allowed to go into town.

I smiled as Hank talked and talked. And they accused us girls of gossiping but give a man a chance to talk about himself and suddenly you are a great conversationalist. But I listened-- . I really listened, until Mrs. Horton opened the door to remind us it was time for bed.

“Hank, I really appreciate it, I had a good time tonight,” and impulsively, I hugged him.

“We’ll have to do it again, I enjoyed myself too,” Hank responded beaming.

Mrs. Horton scowled.

We walked up the stairs to the landing, where Hank hesitated. I reminded him a gentleman sees a lady to her door. I impishly smiled as he complied and walked me the hall’s length to my room where I bade him good night. But not before I hugged him and again told him I enjoyed his company.

Once behind my closed door I stripped down to my panties and donned the “ratty old shirt” as Mom called my dad’s old flannel shirt. Sitting cross legged on the bed holding the phone I reflected on just what had happened tonight with Hank.

Obviously he had buoyed my spirits. The question was why. Was that due to his being a boy and me a girl or as kindred spirits? We were both Army brats and we could also help each other understand the expectations that came with our adopted sex. I didn’t know the answers but I did know that I liked the feeling that I felt from someone finding me attractive. And I didn’t know if I was losing the battle to retain a semblance of my masculine identity, and if I was, what it meant that I was no longer terrified at that thought.

Pushing that question aside I dialed the 505 area code that represented home, “Mom,” I greeted when she answered. “It’s your favorite daughter calling.”

“You’re my only daughter Atalanta, how are you?”

We exchanged the essential greetings and normal information before telling her that Manny was coming to work at Whateley.
“And he said he would try to stop on his way back to see you and Judy.”

“I’m glad you’ll see a familiar face. Have you made any friends with the students yet?”

“Yeah, I met up with a group calling themselves Team Kimba. They are cool and all but one are girls; and he is a changeling too.”

“Oh my, how is he adapting?” Mom was sharp.

“Hank went with us over to the reservation to see the Donners, and we had a long talk on the way over.”

“Really what did you two talk about? Comparing notes?” she asked lightly.

“Well yes we did.”

“What did you learn?”

“According to Hank, it is about expectations.”

Mom was quiet for a few seconds, “What kind of expectations, as I assume you mean expectations for girls?”

“Yes Mom the expectations he had growing up as a girl; he said his expectations centered a lot on weddings and babies.”

I heard a sharp intake of air, “Mom?”

“I’m here, that was a bit of a jolt.”

“Tell me about it, it was a surprise to me. You and I talked about the rules changing; because I could get pregnant. We didn’t really go into the love and marriage, or the family part.”

“No we didn’t and Hank’s right; little girls as a rule do grow up with the whole fairy tale princess background. I’m sorry dear I should have probably prepared you better but girls your age have moved or started to move away from that fantasy.”

“Not your fault Mom after all how were you going to bring it up? I know how,” I declared giggling excitedly.

“I’m afraid to ask: how?”

“You could’ve read me a bedtime story of “Snow White,” “Beauty and the Beast,” or “The Princess Diaries.”

“Hmm I like the idea.”

“…Mom I was just joking.”

“We’ll see but tell me, do you like this boy, Hank?”

“We sat on the stoop this evening and talked until Mrs. Horton called us inside. And I made him walk me to my door.”

“Oh and how did you accomplish that?”

“By reminding him, a gentleman sees a lady to her door.”

“Atalanta you little scamp,” she replied wistfully adding, “I sometimes now wish you had been born a girl.”

“If I had been, Hank and I would be batting for the same team,” I reminded her.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Mom responded her voice trailing off. “Atalanta if you could, would you return to being a boy?”

“If by returning you mean before it happened: maybe. But if you mean now, then my answer is, I don’t think that I would.”

“So you’re happy being a female?”

A smile played across my face as I pondered that question. “I would say content.”

As we prepared to hang up Mom cautioned me to go slow and jokingly asked if she needed to write me a BC script.

“Bye Mom.”

I lay in my bed dressed in my nightshirt and panties staring into the ceiling, my mind everywhere but alone in a room on the second floor of Poe at Whateley in the middle of New Hampshire. My mind roamed to New Mexico, to the cottage I shared with my mother for the last 18 months and my friends, especially Lindsey and Mom's friend Aunt Judy.

I missed the open spaces that were bigger than life reaching as far as the eye could see toward the horizon. Here I felt squeezed in by the high tight mountain ranges and the societal and school restrictions. I had met several people this week, some I counted as friends, some were stick figures animating the background and others were potential enemies. I didn't fully trust the instructors, nor the security yet. I understood Mrs. Carson well. The school was bigger than any one person. While I understood it, I didn't like it.

As my conscious mind began to shift into lower brain wave patterns and sleep began to exert its hold, the unease and tension I felt all week surfaced. Sifting through my memories, free from the demands of testing, and learning new routines I become aware of the shifting emotions and ties of all the people that I had met in Vermont.

Those persons one at a time now stood out in stark relief, their auras blazing and throbbing with intensity shouted at me. Despite the vivid scenes tap-dancing through my conscious mind, that busy mind gave way to deeper levels where these scenes turned to dust before shifting smoothly into the realm of the subconscious. My last thoughts before sleep claimed me were of my Mom and Dad.

Later that night appearing from out of the darkness a familiar form alighted smoothly high on a branch outside a second floor window at Poe cottage. It peered through the window it’s glowing yellow eyes burning like hot coals. Its visage gave the impression of a “V” channeling downward ending at it’s great hooked beak. The only movements came from its upright, pointed ears as they occasionally twitched-in anticipation.

After several minutes of intense concentration a soft glow began emanating from the room’s interior. The mist flowed into every nook and cranny of the room before becoming aware of the single occupant. Deliberately the energy began clustering around the sleeping form before beginning to work its magic.

Not once did the figure stir or give a hint to the inner workings as new dendrites and neurons were formed establishing faster and more secure connections. Many of these new contacts established neural pathways in formerly abandoned and neglected zones, resulting in illumination in heretofore dark corridors. These corridors long neglected; having being swept aside by technological and artificial achievements, activated. Ancient wisdoms and knowledge became accessible as new networks emerged, enmeshing seamlessly with the old. The resultant core was similar to the upgrading of FAT tables to NTFS. Both worked side-by-side and each had their uses but NTFS greatly expanded capacity for storage and indexing.

The glow gradually dimmed before winking out of existence, it’s alchemy finished.

Outside, the great owl rose from its perch and glided silently disappearing into the darkness; mission accomplished.

Audhilde looked out the tower across the bleak landscape, reflecting on a promise she made so many years ago.: A promise that she hadn’t kept to her satisfaction; That promise that brought her to this outpost of civilization to rectify that shortcoming.

Her mind traveled across the ages to a different time on a windswept, moonlit beach, the ocean lapping lustily behind the young couple who had sought her help. She had given the young prince guidance in his quest to reclaim his rightful place on the throne. The athletic girl beside him was the only female allowed on his voyage.

Both of them were facing dangerous days that lay ahead.

Their child could be in danger if it was know she was a potential heir to two kingdoms. They had come to her for help in shielding the baby girl, until such time as one or both had reclaimed their inheritances.

She frowned in remembrance, turning from the window as her mind again went to that deserted beach. They had placed her in the position of deceiving her own sister; hiding from her the result of their indiscretion. The young woman was her sister’s charge, so she was strict in what she demanded as tribute. In the end she had reluctantly agreed to keep their secret and make arrangements for the babe’s care.

The hint of a smile played at her lips as she remembered the days of chaos that followed; the young man and the young woman “making their mark” in the world, and the stories that were told and retold around the world for ages. The prince was wounded in the re-taking of his throne and the young woman banished, while the caretaker for the child had vanished. Probably with good reason as Audhilde’s sister was known for exacting punishment for real or imagined crimes.

The years that followed were chaotic for her as well, and she never was able to locate the child. The knowledge stung, the pain made worse as she couldn’t confide in her family or to seek their help. That night on the beach Audhilde had looked at the soul of the child and memorized her signature.

During a birth, death, or in times of extreme emotional distress the veil is lifted and the exposed soul shines like a beacon, and rings with a sound that is unique. Audhilde could see and hear the exposed souls of any she chose to. She had had sporadic hits over time of the one she sought, but too briefly to locate. Almost two decades ago she was able to trace that particular soul signature across the Atlantic to the New World, where once again all traces disappeared.

On a whim she decided to explore this “New World”, and after about ten years the chaotic pattern she sought emerged from the calm of ether on the East Coast of the United States. From there she was able to follow it south and west.

Her aristocratic features twisted into a rueful grin as she remembered her surprise at the body that housed the soul she sought, and at her subsequent decision to reverse nature’s mistake bringing her promise full circle and to fruition.

The air around her shimmied as she briefly caught the scent of ozone and a body blinked into existence. The person next to her was striking both in appearance and in similarity.

“Sis.”

I'm sorry I seem unable to post a chapter on a regular time table but some many things are claiming my time. I do appreciate that you have stayed involved in the story. In this chapter Sam takes Atalanta to spend Christmas on the Reservation with the Donners. It is a quiet chapter but things always seems to happen when Atalanta is around. I do hope you enjoy this story.

Chapter 27
The Medawihla Indians didn’t really celebrate Christmas as such but did honor the activity of harvest changing over to one of rest, renewal, and reflection. The brightly colorful reds and greens of the plant I carried under one arm testified to a last ditch effort to bring the Donners an appropriate gift.

Mom had suggested it yesterday during our phone call, “Atalanta, are you looking forward to visiting the reservation tomorrow?”

“Yes, they’re nice people,” I responded non-committally.

“Atalanta what’s wrong?”

“Nothing …much,” I admitted, “but I’ve been thinking it might be nice to bring the Donners a gift of some kind. But I have no idea what to get on such short notice.”

Mom almost immediately suggested poinsettias, and the immediate sense of relief I felt said it was the correct choice. Finding none on campus I enlisted Mrs. Carson’s help to travel to Dunwich to locate the holiday plant.

Mrs. Carson was hesitant to allow me outside, instead she sent someone into town for the plant I now carried. Overnight a cold front brought darkening skies, blustery winds, and colder temperatures necessitated that the semi-tropical plant was carried protected inside my long coat that whipped in the breeze.

“So tell me Atalanta,” Sam began, “how you got Mrs. Carson to run your errands,” she continued, nodding at the potted plant I was shielding.

“The same way,” I smirked pointing at my duffel she carried, “that you have my luggage.”

Our eyes crinkled with laughter as we trekked through the forest to the Medawihla reservation where I would stay with the Donnors during Christmas.

As we walked up the Donner driveway Sam turned to me suddenly serious, “Stay safe, keep out of trouble, and take this,” she said handing me a cell phone. “Keep this with you at all times and check in with me at least once a day.”

I turned the phone over in my hands, seemingly studying the device while I considered this new demand.

“If it makes you happy, sure I’ll call.”

“It will,” she assured me. “I’m responsible for you, and as you know your trip here from your home wasn’t uneventful.”

“You have a point,” I admitted placing the phone in a coat pocket as we walked onto the porch.

Ben Donnor opened the door inviting us inside. I took the poinsettia from under my coat and placed it on the center of the kitchen table.

“Have a seat,” he invited us to sit, “something for you to drink,” he asked Sam while turning to hand me a cup of coffee.

“Thanks.”

“Nothing for me,” Sam declared wryly pointing at her stomach, “been acting up lately.”

“You need more battery acid in your diet,” Ben grinned in return.

“You may be right,” Sam conceded. It had been years since Hive had designed her new more efficient energy and repair system that included items not in standard American diet. She sometimes missed the taste of food but it was a small matter overall.

I heard Eloise’s footsteps as she walked the hall into the kitchen, “Oh, how nice,” she said seeing the bright Christmas plant on her table.

“I didn’t know what else to get but I thought I should bring something to show my appreciation.”

“We are glad to have you.” On seeing my duffel she picked it up and motioned me to follow her, “I’ll show you to your room and you can hang up your clothes.” Wordlessly, I dutifully rose and followed her to a room near the back of the house, at the end of the long hallway.

“Sorry this is not more centrally located but as council elders we often have visitors that drop in and stay the night, or several nights. This way they won’t be disturbed and if they need fresh air its right outside,” she continued pointing at the outside door several feet from my room for the next few nights.

“Does it lock,” I wondered aloud.

“Yes but we hardly ever lock it; the kids use it to come and go but they each have a key if you want it locked.”

I nodded, “I don’t think so, I don’t even know why I asked,” and I turned to follow her into the room.

The king size bed faced the door, at it’s head a nightstand. On the opposite wall was a combination desk and dresser, and beside it a chest of drawers with a small closet at one end. The patterned curtains and the hooked rug by the bed were the room’s only personal touches.

“You can put your personal things in there,” she indicated the desk/dresser combo, “and you can hang up your clothes in there,” she pointed at the closet and added, “After you get done in here come on into the kitchen.”

Nodding I unzipped my duffel bag, “Thank you, I will.”

Eloise hesitated beside me as if she wanted to say something else before abruptly leaving the room. As my fingers lingered briefly on the sheer smooth fabric of my underclothes I was again struck by the differences in clothing between boys and girls. Knowing that difference is what drove home the point of the change that I had gone through. These feelings were becoming rare, but I suspected I would always have them. But that was all right as Alan had done nothing wrong and deserved to be remembered by someone. I smiled as I put away that ‘ratty old shirt’ as Mom called it. It was a flannel shirt that was a favorite of Daddy’s that I claimed after his death.

Closing the drawers, I unpacked my skirt, dress, jeans, chemise, two tank style tops, one white blouse, and a peasant tunic hanging them up for the wrinkles to fall out. As I removed my jars and containers of makeup and lotions from another compartment in the bag, I placed them on the dresser top. I could not help reflecting on the amount of clothing and accessories I brought for three days.

I smiled mischievously as my hand found the several jewelry items at the bottom of a side pocket in the duffel. I took off my hat and hung it from a mirror corner and my coat on a peg beside the door, retrieving the two cell phones from their coat pockets.

Sitting down in front of the mirror I began to brush out my hair and then pinned it up using the lethal instruments Manny had given me. From another compartment I produced a necklace and fastened it around my neck and matching bracelets on my forearms. With my hand on my throat I tested the latch and watched as the 2 inches of honed steel glided from its sheath.

Snapping it back into place, I held up my arms and marveled at the intricate spiral artwork designed into the bracelets. The left one held 18 inches of steel piano wire, while the right one contained a cutting edge on the ring tethered to that bracelet by a thin rope chain. As I replaced my boots with sneakers I wondered why I chose to wear the covert weapons. Shrugging, I took a last look in the mirror, grabbed the phone Sam had given me and turned to leave the room.

“You’re such a girl,” Sam teased me after seeing my wardrobe change.

Instantly striking the classic modeling pose I returned mocking, “Eat your heart out,” while sticking out my tongue at her.

“Now children behave,” Eloise scolded, her smile widening as she did. “You look nice dear.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed briefly as she viewed my jewelry accessories, “Nice pieces, Christmas gifts?”

“Manny got them for me last year,” I admitted.

“You have your cell phone?”

I nodded producing the phone Sam had given me.

“Good,” she replied and then explained to the Donners what she expected of me, “…and if I don’t hear from her, all of you will hear from me. Understand?”

Harsh, yes, but she had learned long ago life was even harsher,; especially if you left something to chance.

After a few more minutes of small talk Sam got up from the chair to leave and we followed her to the front door where she wished the Donnors a Merry Christmas, and to me an admonishment to call her. I impulsively hugged her feeling a slight return of pressure and a smile.

I promised that I would, and watched her stride purposefully down the sidewalk and soon out of sight. Turning, I found the husband and wife team seated in the kitchen watching me intently. Walking back across the room I sat down across from them and waited patiently.

Eloise spoke first, “For about two months I have had visitations from your owl, Harvard I believe you called him.” I nodded silently wondering what she wanted.

“Owls have a reputation among us of being a messenger both of good and ill; mostly of bad news. I don’t necessarily subscribe to that view but a lot of people do.”

I waited silently and patiently.

“A few years back we had the attack of the Voodoo Wolves, Nikki showed up at the beginning of that war. She was our warning, and a help in fighting them off. The owl showing up was to tell me you were coming. The question is, why? Do you have any thoughts on how or why you were transformed? Or what your role is here?”

Wood, water, fire, metal, earth; words from the Art of War flowed into my being. I shook my head while scanning my environment for a hint at what those five elements from Sun Tzu meant for me at this time. Wood was all around me in the house and the furniture, there was fire in the fireplace for warmth, water flowed in the pipes and metal was evident in utensils and appliances. I frowned briefly at earth, until I realized that meant biological; life, and there were three life forms in the room.

Again I scanned the room this time noting the elements displayed in varying amounts; amounts that varied in other circumstances. The five elements formed the whole contributing differing amounts according to need and function.

But how did this whole fit together?

I recalled chapter 11 of the Art of War: The Nine Situations and listed fifth was intersecting highways where two or more kingdoms came together. I knew Whateley leased their grounds from the Medawihla Indians, and I of course could be the third kingdom.

“You’re concerned about a repeat of the Voodoo Wolves?”

“The Bastard is more like it,” Ben replied frowning, “and we don’t want to repeat making hasty and ill informed decisions, like we did before, regarding some students at Whateley and enlisting their help in the Voodoo attack.”

“The Bastard?”

“Yes,” Eloise interjected, “he was directing those attacks.”

“And you think he might be behind the attacks on me?”

“We think it likely if you are here to help in our war with him,” Ben admitted.

I tugged at an earlobe, “Manny did say an awakened natural draws opportunities to us, so there is no doubt if he attacks I’ll be drawn in to it. While the train attackers and the motel guys were H1 and the MCO agents, the other two attempts were by mercenary types and could have been hired by anybody, including this Bastard guy. Or his understudy,” I added remembering the name; Red Bastard Properties that Manny provided me as the owner of the house in Boston.
“Humm,” Eloise responded to this new information, “It could be one of his minions or not connected at all. But at any rate we had help with the last one; from Nikki and a few of the other Whateley students that turned back that attack. Nikki will help us again if she’s here or learns of it in time but you’re liable to be drawn into it as well. We’d rather you not be blindsided if that happens.”

“What do you know about him?”

“We know he’s old,” Ben began, “and that he’s a servitor to possibly the GOOs, and that his strength or powers comes from when he infects someone. The more followers he has, the more powerful he is. He also feeds on fear.”

My hand moved from my earlobe to just over my breast: something didn’t add up. “Anything else beside he wants to destroy you and he creates corrupted weres?”

“We know he’s located somewhere in California or Nevada.”

“What about his other activities,” I prodded and added at their blank stares, “You said his power in part at least is strengthened by converts and followers, which suggests cults or illegal activities; prostitution, drugs, and slavery being likely ways to recruit victims and minions.”

Ben and Eloise exchanged sheepish looks before Eloise confessed, “I think we became too tightly focused to consider mundane methods of recruitment. Nikki, as well as us, have a history with the Bastard that goes way, way back in time and I believe we were blinded by that history.”

“Nikki and I both have contacts that should be able locate these types of activities, then trace them back and locate any in the vicinity of California or Nevada that meet our criteria. Attack his perimeter and we might weaken him and draw him out. That goes whether he is your Bastard or mine,” I added smiling.

We talked a little longer before Ben and Eloise offered to show me around the town which I accepted, spending the afternoon with the Donners. As tribal Elders they were well known and it felt like I was introduced to the whole village.

“I’d like to go for a run any place around here that is a challenge,” I asked once we were back at the house.

“You could run the valley,” offered Ben.

“I like the freedom that less traveled paths offer me. What about there?” I replied indicating the cliffs to the north adding, “I doubt they are any more rugged than the mountains back home and I ran those in the dark with no problem.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Eloise returned, “but I understand if you need to. How long will you be gone?”

“An hour or less,” I replied studying the cliffs, “it can’t be more than 10 miles there and back.”

“I don’t know,” Ben interjected, “averaging 10 miles an hour in that rough terrain is pushing us in our Were forms.”

“I was giving allowances, meeting someone and stopping to chat,” I smirked back.

“Go on then but don’t forget your phone, and be careful,” Eloise warned me.

I thanked her and went inside to change into my running gear consisting of boots, hat, and the long coat sans the jewelry.

“How do you run in that,” Eloise asked when I returned to the porch indicating my duster.

“The coat, why that’s my handicap and besides I have an image to protect,” I replied my eyes sparkling as I sprinted across the porch leaping the steps to land softly in the gravel still in stride quickly gaining the street and soon after disappearing behind a neighboring house.

The husband and wife team watched the young girl disappear behind the neighbor’s house and reappear at the town crossroad, and moments later she slid behind a row of buildings. They silently watched as she reappeared halfway across the valley and nearing the cliffs.

“Looks like she’ll pass by ol’ Russ’s place,” Ben noted as he turned to go inside adding over his shoulder, “I think I’ll call ol’ Russ and give him a heads up and have him keep a lookout for her.”

“You do that,” Eloise agreed, “and I’ll start supper.”

Ben nodded as he dialed the phone.

Atalanta creates a stir with her run down the valley. But as usual nothing is simple with her. I do hope you enjoy this chapter,

Chapter 28

My feet barely touched the earth and I felt light as a feather with the wind whipping past my face as I ran across the plains. I covered ground in a sprinters pace that I could keep for hours and I delighted in the freedom and energy that coursed through every fiber of my being.

Nearing the foot of the cliffs I passed an isolated cabin with an old man sitting in a chair on the porch. I lifted my hand in acknowledging his greeting. The land rose sharply behind his cottage and boulders were strewn about haphazardly in his yard; some of which was as tall as the cabin the man lived in.

Lengthening my stride I leapt, striking one such boulder halfway up its face and immediately springing off that foot upward and to my left to touch the next boulder’s hard surface. Without breaking stride I immediately propelled off that leg, up and to the right and higher up on that first mass of rock, and so on until I reached the flat, broad summit. From a distance I appeared to be running up invisible steps.

I crossed the table-like surface still at a dead run, and without hesitation leapt into open space and hung suspended in mid air before making contact with the face of the cliff proper. I didn’t land with a thud or hugging the surface, but I transferred the energy from the jump into my arms and legs absorbing that energy and shifting it to upward motion. From a distance the cliff’s appearance was smooth, but up close there were many irregularities that my hands and feet found purchase on. I knew that speed and energy could temporarily counteract the force of gravity and I counted on my innate agility and balance to keep moving the 100 feet to another flat surface.
From there to the top of the mesa was 300 feet of broken rocky surfaces caused by winter’s snow and ice, freezing and thawing, creating cracks and fissures.

As I reached that demarcation point a single metallic reflection of light from the forest to the east reached my eyes. Even as I started to scramble up the scarred face I noted the light’s distance and location.

In just under a minute I was perched atop the mesa seemingly surveying the conquered landscape I had just vanquished. In reality I was searching for movement among the pines; warning bells ringing loudly. Seeing nothing I ran along the mesa paralleling the cliff, still looking for movement or anything that seemed out of place. From there I ran 100 yards deep into the mesa and back, finally retracing my steps to the funnel that I emerged from onto the butte.

Staring down at the impossibly sharp twisting channel cut into the rock from the dizzying heights, a smile played across my lips at movement below. Seemingly tossing caution aside I plunged downward at a dead run into the teeth of that yawning chasm my laughter echoing. Just as gravity and movement was the key to climbing, descent equally was dependent on reducing gravity’s forces. Pivotal to that end was spreading the headlong momentum created over a larger area, my hands and feet were a blur as I sped over the rocky surfaces; each step and hand hold measured and precise.

The trip down that chute took half the time that ascent had and in seconds my feet were churning across the flat surface of the big boulder that flanked the cabin. In mere seconds I was once again laid out in mid air, two storeys in the air seemingly about to dash myself against the hard ground at my feet. As I soared overhead I flashed a brilliant smile at the shocked old man looking upward at me.
At the last possible second my hands grasped the top of a two inch sapling, riding it gently to the ground where it deposited me gently.

Turning I smiled gently at the old man, “Whadduh’ think?”

“I think you’re crazy,” he replied.

“You’re probably right,” I agreed and once again broke into a run determined to finish the course on time.

Hearing me walk into the kitchen Eloise looked up from her meal preparation, “How was your run dear?”

“That,” I scoffed grinning, “was only a warm up and mildly challenging. Anything I can do to help?”

“No just go clean up for supper.” I nodded, turning to walk down the hall.

Ben came in from the back porch, “You know where she ran?”

Eloise her hands busy shrugged her shoulders, “Down the valley and back I suppose.”

“You’re half right. She went as far as Russ’s cabin to where part of the mountain broke off, and then she went right up the Devil’s Washboard.”

Eloise stopped her preparation drying her hands as she did. The Devil’s Washboard as it was locally known was a proving ground for the young alphas of the clan to make a name and move up the ranks.

In the last few years the sport had become popular enough to combine it with the July 4th celebration and make a day of it. But those who attempted it did so with the best gear they could afford, under the warm July skies, and months of preparation leading up to it. Few completed the climb. That Atalanta had attempted in boots, long coat and in the winter showed an appalling lack of judgment and temperament.

“How far did she make it,” she asked scowling.

“Clean to the top,” Ben answered adding, “Russ said she ran right up the side of the mountain like a squirrel up a tree.”

She turned to her husband of 30 plus years to see if he was teasing her. He wasn’t. “How did she get down …fly?”

“Almost,” Ben chuckled, “Russ said she literally ran down the mountain and never made a misstep. And at the bottom,” he continued his voice rising, “she caught the top of a sapling in Russ’s yard riding it to the ground. He said she did it as easily and naturally as stepping off an elevator.”

She turned back to her work as her mind dusted off memories of failed attempts and broken bones on that handiwork of the devil. The image of Atalanta racing across the porch to attack a full grown moose, and how easily she had brought down that 1,000 pound animal of muscle and sinew. She contrasted that with the subdued images of her riding up last Tuesday and earlier this evening. It would be easy to underestimate her abilities.

“I wonder what other surprises she has for us.”

I showered quickly, careful to keep my hair dry and dressed in the bathroom; exchanging my boots for sneakers and again donning the jewelry from Manny. I carried my clothes to my room and deposited them in a hamper that I found in the closet.

“Anything I can do to help,” I inquired of Eloise after I walked back into the kitchen.

“You can set the table,” she answered pointing to the dishes and silverware drawer.

“How many?”

“Just us three, the kids are visiting friends. You’ll meet them tomorrow.”

Tuesday was Christmas; tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

Eloise continued, “We don’t celebrate Christmas as such but we do celebrate the season tomorrow evening with a feast and dance at the main hall. They will be there.”

I nodded as I placed the plates and silverware on the table. Ben was in the front room on the phone. As I moved around the kitchen I reflected on the domestic duties that came with the change and a tiny little smile played across my lips. Ben, after starting to the kitchen, turned back to answer the jangling phone.

After placing the food on the table we sat down and waited for Ben to finish his conversation.

As he sat down Ben explained the calls, “Russ is a gossip.”

I raised an eyebrow but Eloise continued to eat while Ben mumbled between bites. About halfway through eating Ben was interrupted again by the phone ringing. After a brief conversation he was halfway to the table when the phone rumbled again.

“Ben, leave it off the hook or you’ll never get finished eating,” Eloise instructed him as he answered it.

The looks that they gave each other, told me this wasn’t a usual occurrence during supper. I remained silent during the meal but wondered at the cause of the unexpected activity.

A knock at the front door sounded just as we finished eating, and as I offered to clean up the kitchen for Eloise.

“If you want to help you can put the leftovers in the refrigerator and wipe down the table while I wash the dishes.”

In the midst of the cleanup I was struck by the fellowship with Mrs. Donner from sharing the household chores. It was similar to the unspoken communication that I had developed with my Mom soon after we moved to New Mexico. I didn’t remember that closeness helping Mom before the change. Soon we were both humming some unnamed melody shared by generations of women and dictated by necessary cooperation.

Carefully folding the drying cloth I turned to Mrs. Donner, hastily hugging her, “Thank you, this reminds me of home,” I said, my eyes glistening.

“Maybe you should call your mother,” she replied adding, “and don’t forget to call Sam.”

“I believe I will,” I responded going to my room to call. After hanging up with Mom and promising to call her tomorrow evening, or Christmas Day, I checked in with Sam before going to spend time with my hosts.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know you had company,” I began, intending to detour through the kitchen.

“No,” Eloise waved me into the room, “you’re the reason these people are here.”

“Me,” I replied confused.

“You can blame Russ for that, as he is sort of the unofficial official caretaker of the Devil’s Washboard.”

“The Devil’s Washboard,” I echoed, “what is the Devil’s Washboard, and what has that to do with me?”

“I forgot,” Eloise chuckled, “the Devil’s Washboard is that part of the mountain that broke off and that you went up this evening.”

“Oh-kay,” I responded, “What am I not seeing?”

“Each spring a group of our young alphas train to scale that section of the mountain. Each year at the 4th of July picnic we hold an event and celebration for those attempting to climb that part of the mountain.” Eloise explained adding, “It is a rite of passage that very few complete and the ones that do are honored. Also, not every year sees one that makes it all the way to the top and back down. In fact it has been over a decade since the last person succeeded and he died in the Voodoo attacks.”

“So,” I began slowly, “you’re saying that it’s a hard climb?”

“Much more than that,” Ben interjected, “lately there has been talk of discontinuing the Devil’s assault climb, but your successful run today has created a buzz around it.”

“And,” Eloise clarified, “tomorrow we hold a feast and dance to celebrate both Christmas and the Winter Solstice season. These good people wanted to know if you would kick off the celebration with a demonstration tomorrow evening.”

Ten pairs of eyes turned to me, “Sure if you folks want. I was going to do it anyway.”

After several minutes of questions and answers on when I planned to run the gauntlet, and then what activities to include, a schedule was agreed to for the festivities.

“Please,” I cried holding up my hands, “are you all sure this is what you want. It seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a stranger.”

Darcy Wood one of the women visitors spoke, “Many of our young people haven’t seen anyone successfully complete the climb and interest is dying out. And besides we women get to pick at our men folks if you make it.”

I then excused myself from the group claiming fatigue and retired to my room. Truth is that I enjoyed my solitude and that I still wasn’t comfortable away from home and among strangers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The small wooden structure was hidden among the pines placed on the outskirts and stocked for those that got caught in sudden winter weather changes. No windows and a single door attested to the Spartan nature of the outpost. A tiny shaft of pale light peeked from under the threshold. Parked beside the shanty, a pair of ATVs and a late model all wheel drive sedan.

Inside the cabin flickering light from a single candle danced across the ceiling merging with the shadows of the three men gathered near the open fireplace. All three were young men in their late teens or early twenties, dressed in jeans, boots, and brush jacket.

“I don’t like it,” one of the men whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” another man spoke. He was large, close to filling the cramped quarters. He had to duck his head upon entering and leaving the cabin. “All you have to do is drive; me and Jim will take care of the girl,” he added, careful to keep the anger from rising into his words. He needed a driver to make his plan work but the constant complaints and three days of a self imposed quarantine in a cramped bed worked to keep him on edge.

Jim grinned in return, “Yeah we’ll take care of the bitch. Nobody will connect you with us.”

“Okay,” the third man grumbled, “I need to get back before I’m missed.”

“You do that,” the large man responded, “and we’ll see you tomorrow,” he added guiding the traitor to the door. They watched him get in and drive away.

“You think he’ll come through,” Jim asked his larger companion.

“If he doesn’t I’ll make him wish he had.”

As Atalanta prepares for another run up the Devil's Washboard and Christmas Eve day's festivities she borrows a horse and goes exploring the forest. Later at the party....

Chapter 29

Darkening clouds banking to the north were driven by a blustery and colder wind, signaling a change from the unseasonable warm weather that had held sway over the northeast.

The forecast was for worsening conditions this evening, and snow to start after dark with the likelihood of a foot or more by tomorrow, with high winds causing drifts.

Ben and Eloise had not liked the idea that I wanted to borrow a horse and do some exploring, before my circus-like performance scheduled for early afternoon. But I had risen early and went outside to stretch and run in place; practicing various katas and forms as I had been taught to.

By the time the clock struck 8am I had finished my routine, eaten, showered, dressed, and was filled with restless energy. I paced the floor. Sitting at the kitchen table I drummed my fingers on the hard surface while staring off into space.

“Nervous,” Eloise asked from her seat.

“Huh,” I mumbled roused from my musings, “no, not about the Devil’s Washboard.”

“Something is bothering you,” Eloise asked gently.

“You’re right,” I agreed, “something is bothering me, but I can’t put my finger on just what. It’s like I missed something important, or left something unfinished.”

That was when I knew I had to go outside and explore. As I explained to both Donnors; being outside in nature helped me to clear out the cobwebs. Ben offered to accompany me but as I pointed out he was going to be busy setting up out at Russ’s cabin. However, what I needed and wanted was the solitude of nature.

While both understood, they were concerned about me having an accident, or the weather turning bad. To ease their concern I carried my cell phone and rode their handpicked horse.

So here I was on the back of a Morgan gelding named Blackie (What else would you name a coal black horse?). After leaving the barn we paralleled the road leading to Dunwich. I briefly considered visiting the hidden weapons cache I accumulated from the Dunwich train station kidnapping attempt, but I quickly discarded that idea.

What the hell would I do with the stuff; it was too large to hide.

Instead I just let Blackie have his head and we ambled through the forest traveling roughly northeast. At the top of a rise Blackie stopped and snorted his displeasure.

“What is it boy; you see something?” Blackie seemed to nod his head and whinnied in agreement, backing off the grassy spine we were following.

I dismounted, patted his neck, and while rubbing his nose apologized; “Sorry ol’ boy that I got you out of your warm barn and into this cold.” I continued to offer soothing words as my eyes and ears scanned the trees, bushes, rocks, and the ground seeking anything out of the ordinary. Blackie could have caught the scent of his ancestral predators; bears, wolves, snakes, or big cats.

It could also be that he was high strung and just spooked by the wind rustling in the trees. But Morgan horses as a rule had good sense and a dependable nature. Holding his reins tightly I guided us below the skyline, but continued following the hillside while wishing for a long range weapon. The faint game trail I was following led us into a bowl-like depression with an abundance of thumb sized hickory and oak saplings.

Blackie watched me with interest as I tested several of the straighter samples, and whinnied softly as I bent over one and snapped it. In a few minutes I straightened up and presented my makeshift spear to Blackie who stamped his hoofs in approval. The crude weapon had its branches stripped with a debarked and sharpened end. I hefted it above my head grinning and swung into the saddle. Spurring my mount we attacked the rim with vengeance.

We emerged from that bowl head up nostrils flaring and eyes wide: defiant. My spear was gripped tightly, while Blackie’s muscles were bunched and tight. My eyes scanned our peripheral while my horse kept his focus on footing and what lay directly ahead. In seconds we had bonded as a team, horse and rider as one unit; ancestral habits born of combat.

My lips thinned in a feral smile as energy poured into me and my eyes flashed colors. Blackie shivered and leapt forward eagerly.

“Easy boy,” I whispered in his ear leaning forward and tying my reins to the saddle horn trusting that he wouldn’t shy and throw me.

Every 50 feet or so I leaned forward whispering encouragement to Blackie, who seemed to listen actively with his head up, teeth bared and his hooves striking the ground.

The wind whipped up at times causing my coat to flap wildly around my legs which Blackie ignored. Soon we emerged from the forested slope, where by mutual agreement we stopped short of the Dunwich road and scrutinized the terrain. Again, as if with one mind we scampered onto the road and turned toward the village. Blackie with his neck bowed, head up alternated between a sideways walk and hooves flashing in a natural three step cantor. Amused, I gave him his head, estimating we had time to make it back and do the run everyone was excited to see.

“Eloise come here you have to see this,” Ben called to his wife. She joined him at the living room’s large window where they watched Blackie high stepping and shifting between a sideways walk and a three step cantor. On his back Atalanta gripped a lance firmly in her left hand. Her right hand rested lightly on her lap.

“What the hell happened?”

Blackie was a gentle animal that didn’t possess a three step gait! Yet here he was prancing ready for war. The simple homemade spear Atalanta carried spoke loudly. With one accord they moved to the back door and met Atalanta at the barn where she was just dismounting.

Ben moved to take the reins, “Here I’ll unsaddle and rub him down.”

Atalanta made no move to untie the reins, “Blackie and I came to an understanding out there.”

They followed her into the barn watching as she soaked a cloth with water cleaning his nostrils and then wiping his neck free of sweat. Ben and Eloise stood back and watched as she next loosened the cinch, then removing the bridle before giving him a few sips of water.
After removing the saddle and blanket they watched as she used a stable towel to dry his back, and then groomed him using various combs.

I led him into his stall, added two cups of oats to his feed and filled his trough with fresh water, watching to make certain that he didn’t drink too fast or too much. I turned to watch Ben examining my spear.

Slipping my arm around Blackie’s neck I cradled his head, “Blackie caught a predator’s scent which neither of us could see. I felt the need for a long range weapon and I found a stand of oaks and hickories, so I made a spear. Blackie seemed to understand what I was doing so I gave him his head to get us out of there. And he came through like a champ. Didn’t you boy?”

Blackie agreed.

Husband and wife exchanged quick glances then looked from me to Blackie, “Atalanta,” Ben chuckled, “You are just chocked full of surprises.”

I smiled.

“It’s about time to head out to the picnic area,” Eloise announced.

I gawked, stopped short by the sight that greeted my eyes. The Devil’s Washboard site had been transformed into a celebration reminiscent of a renaissance village, complete with tents of all types in festive colors, including those with peaked roofs and open front and/or sides. Smoke hung close to one tent that my nose said was the food cart. Pennants and banners were strung from tent to tent; their rainbow of colors dancing on the wind.

Painted lines indicated where outdoor games like the egg toss, cakewalk, and others were being played. Set up against one large boulder a band was playing seasonal tunes.

Under one large open air tent hastily arranged benches and tables had been set up to eat at. That area was occupied by women, children, and older adults. There was a buzz of activity as the children scampered about, with the adults moving among groups with either a drink or a plate of food in their hands; sometimes they held both.

“How …”

“How did we get this set up so quickly,” Eloise smiled. “After you went to bed we did our planning. The food was already being prepared, so all we had to was to set the tents up.”

“Still, it is a remarkable achievement.”

Ben who hadn’t stopped with us returned with several people in tow, a couple I recognized from last night.

“Atalanta, are you ready?” he asked.

“Word must have spread that the entertainment has arrived,” I mused as more and more people noticed us, and the din gradually lessened as they began moving to a better location to view the washed out area.

“They might want to move over there,” I suggested pointing to a location farther south giving the watchers a more panoramic view.

“You’re not starting at the bottom of the cliff?”

“No, over there,” I replied, pointing at a sloped 10 foot boulder that marked the farthest distance the rubble from the rock slide had moved. The array of boulders formed a rough backwards “D” with the cabin nestled inside the rocky curvature. The inline boulder formation consisted of six rocky tumors that led directly to the scarred face of the cliff. Each outcropping was separated by seven- ten yards except between the third and fourth; those two were twenty to twenty five yards apart.

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he traced my route, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I nodded walking toward my starting line and began stretching, deep breathing and focusing on the route that lay ahead.

The throng of people faded from view replaced by that of a battlefield. Morning mists rose from the surface obscuring a clear view of the battle. I could clearly hear the war cries and those of the wounded and dying. Suddenly a huge warrior holding a humongous sword in both hands appeared directly in front of me. His metal helmet concealed much of his features but for his red glowing eyes. He looked straight at me and his mouth twisted as if in recognition. But before I could react the vision faded leaving behind a growing knot of anger forming in my gut. I deliberately began to tamp down the embers that the visage had fanned.

Buying myself time to regain my focus, I started my warm up again; concentrating on my fighting forms and katas. I sensed unrest starting to take hold of the crowd and for a moment wondered if I could regain my core. Almost immediately I felt a presence swell inside me bringing with it an expected end.

I nodded to Ben that I was ready who turned to the crowd holding up his hands. Instantly I sprinted from the starting blocks toward the first obstacle, dashing up its slope and crossing it’s surface at top speed. My launch into space and the subsequent landing occurred, pushing off on my right foot and landing in stride on my left foot. My feet lightly kissed the rocky surface as again I seemingly defied gravity to float across the next expanse.

The widening gulf after the third obstacle loomed large, it’s leviathan-like opening threatening to dash me against its rocky fangs.

Surely I raced towards my own destruction!

Instead at the last possible second I chose to run lightly across the rope that the various banners and pennants were strung from. Supported by two poles they bridged the gap between the two rocky boulders.

From there on it was a repeat from yesterday, except I didn’t run the mesa; instead I turned around and immediately descended the mountain again at a dead run.

I watched the festivities from my remote corner of the room, thankful I could find a few minutes alone. The celebration had moved from the old shack to the town hall shortly after my run. The weather had turned nasty and it had begun snowing heavily, forcing the ceremonies inside. I was given a plate of food that I quickly ate and then went to the Donner home and changed into clean slacks and blouse, leaving my hat at home but pinning up my hair.

The dancing and music stopped for solemn exchanges of gifts between various tribal leaders. I suddenly felt someone invade my personal space as a young man in his late teens walked over to stand beside me. He pretended to be intently watching the dais but I felt his gaze.

“You were totally cool today. I don’t see how you were able to do that and make it look so easy.”

“Thanks,” I replied dryly looking for Eloise.

“Wanna’ dance?” he asked inching closer, his eyes roving over my body.

“No,” I replied picking my drink up from the table that stood at my side and walking away with his gaze following me.

Creep I thought, as I sipped my drink looking for a familiar face.

In another corner seated at a table I spotted three other girls about my age, and a couple of empty chairs. I made a beeline for the relative safety of other girls, all the while berating myself for what on one hand I considered to be a cowardly retreat, but on the other hand behavior that was expected of females.

Screw it, I decided, if that boy couldn’t take a hint and he followed me over to the table, I’d plant him on his backside. I ain’t no damsel in distress I snorted to myself, my fingers flexing and stretching.

“This seat taken?” I asked the girls.

“No, sit down we wanted to talk with you anyway.” The three girls’ names were Darcy, Penny, and Vickie.

“We were beginning to think that it just a myth that someone had made it to the top of the Devil’s Washboard,” Darcy added after I sat down.

“And they won’t even let us girls try,” Penny pouted petulant before a giggle escaped her lips to belie her frosty appearance.

Vickie picked up the gauntlet and ran with it, “We’re just supposed to be bobble headed bimbos,” she dramatically exclaimed nodding agreement.

“And to think it took a girl to do it.”

“Girl power,” the three chorused to high fives.

“Who’s that,” I asked grinning at their antics, but indicating the boy that was loitering close by.

“Oh, that’s Marty Weaver; he gives me the creeps,” Penny answered.

I nodded in complete agreement, understanding her use of the creepy label. The other girls exchanged knowing looks and in that moment I acknowledged a shared history that previously had been hidden from me. And I understood a little more about being female.

“I got that same vibe”

Sipping my drink, I occasionally added a comment or answered a question, content to sit and absorb and reflect on the revelation.

“Whew,” I uttered wiping my brow, “Is it hot in here or is it me?”

The girls agreed it was me.

“Maybe you’re coming down with a bug?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fresh air might help clear your head,” Darcy suggested.

Fresh air: Yeah that might help, I thought rising slowly from the table.

“Better get your coat it is cold outside,” Penny warned.

“Yeah, I’ll get my coat,” I mumbled, hesitating before changing course to the coat rack.

“Wait, I’ll go with you,” Vicki said as she got up to walk over beside me.

“I’ll be alright,” I assured her, “but if I’m not back in a few minutes come after me.”

“Okay.”

I shrugged into my coat and then walked over, opened the front door to go and stand under the overhanging roof of the porch. Breathing deeply of the fresh cold air, I watched the snow falling and enclosing the area in a foggy mist reducing visibility to a few feet.
Sucking deep breaths of the frigid and humid air brought tears to my eyes, as well as a brilliant display of lights. I staggered against a support post. From my peripheral, Marty’s leering face loomed large and I cursed as Mom’s warning about watching my drink at all times rushed to the fore. I willed myself to stand erect before pitching head first into the blackness.

Where-oh-where can Atalanta be? The school and the Reservation is in a panic looking for her. Another exciting chapter as our heroine goes missing! LOL! Melodramatic yes but it is a lot of fun.

Chapter 30

The celebration was winding down earlier this year than normal. But the day’s festivities had started earlier due to the Devil’s Washboard run. The snow and colder weather settling in had convinced many to retreat beside a warm home fire.

Eloise, along with several of the organizers was chatting at the food and refreshment table enjoying the fellowship of their clan.
“Looks like the excitement has died down.”

“Yeah,” Eloise agreed, “It’s just as well with the weather moving in.”

“Anybody seen Atalanta?” Ben who had just joined the group asked.

“She was just with them girls over there,” Eloise pointing to the trio of Darcy, Vicki, and Penny.

“I think I’ll go and see about rounding her up so we can go home.” His wife nodded her agreement.

“She wasn’t feeling good and stepped outside for some air,” Penny replied when asked about Atalanta, but the girls sheepishly reported that they had forgotten the time. Ben had gone outside to try and find her, but he was unable to tell her footprints from the others that were leaving to go home, as the gently falling snow filled in the tracks. He turned to walk back inside.

“She wasn’t feeling well,” Ben told his wife adding, “I’m going to see if she went home. Will you all check to see that she is not in the building … and check in the bathrooms?”

“I think I’ll go with you.”

Ben pulled his wife aside and whispered tersely, “I know she can take care of herself but she is only 14 years old and she is in our care; I wish you’d stay here because if she is not at home we will have to organize a search and rescue mission. It’s not snowing hard enough that I couldn’t find some sign of her if she went home.”

“You’re right,” Eloise replied somberly kissing her husband on his cheek, “We’ll check here thoroughly, and you … be careful.” She watched him leave, ducking slightly through the open door frame and disappear behind the closed door. She turned to her companions to direct their search efforts while she went to talk with the three teenagers that had last spoken with Atalanta.

Stopping, his feet on the porch, Ben knew the house was empty. It felt empty. Walking over from the town hall he had seen plenty of footprints. The more recent prints and the earlier imprints leaving half filled depressions from the accumulating snow.

Nevertheless, he called out and searched every room even though the house seemed to mock his every action. She wasn’t there. Hopefully Eloise had had better luck than he did. He was standing at the kitchen counter reaching for the phone to call her when it began clamoring for his attention, echoing loudly in the empty house and magnified by the still cozy air.

“You find her,” Ben asked.

“Find who?”

Ben recognized Sam’s voice, “I thought you were Eloise calling. What’s up?”

“Atalanta hasn’t checked in and she isn’t answering her phone so I thought I’d call you to see what she is up to.”

“The truth is Sam; we don’t know what she’s up to. Nobody has seen her in the last hour. She’s not here and I thought you were Eloise calling from the town hall with news.”

“She is not with some of the kids?”

“No, that’s not likely. I did talk with three girls that apparently were the last to see her. They said she wasn’t feeling well and went outside for fresh air, and they being teenagers got busy talking and forgot about checking on her.”

“How long ago was that,” Sam asked.

Checking his watch Ben answered, “Over an hour now. I’ll call you back after I talk to Eloise.”

Despite the late hour the Donnor kitchen and living room was crowded. Three members of the reservation police, both Donners, four other members of the tribal council, and a handful of volunteers were on hand.

After Ben had called her back Sam had reported to Delarose and he had sent her and another security member to the village to help in search and rescue efforts. It was after midnight when they arrived at the Donnor home and were debriefed. They had two expert trackers out looking for any sign of Atalanta, and had begun calling the neighbors from the Donner home.

The only solid information they had was from the three teenage girls that were the last people to see Atalanta. They reported that she complained of being hot, and a queasy stomach, as well as asking about who Marty Hover was. Marty Hover was among the missing too, and now a person of interest. They were going on the assumption that Atalanta was drugged and wandered off, or was kidnapped.
Their options were limited to the trackers until daylight, and even then depending on the weather, it was highly unlikely that short of a miracle they would find her trail. Logistics for a grid area search was being readied for the first light of the new day-Christmas day.
They found Atalanta’s personal cell phone in her room but not the phone that Sam had given her. She probably had it with her and by tomorrow they would be able to triangulate its position.

“What do we know about Mr. Hover,” Sam asked again.

“Not much,” answered Police Chief Joe Mayor, “he graduated high school this year and does odd jobs. He has had a few juvenile pranks, underage drinking and marijuana usage, but nothing extraordinary either way.”

Sam narrowed her gaze, thanked him and walked off to find Eloise who was in the kitchen.

“Excuse me,” Sam interjected in a conversation Eloise was having with several women, “but could I talk with you a minute.”

“I feel that we’re missing something,” Sam began once she had Eloise alone, “do you think that I can talk with one or more of the girls that Atalanta was with last.”

“Sure Penny lives right down this same street. I’ll call and see if she’s still up.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Sam grunted as she and Eloise waded through a foot of snow that had fallen.

“I don’t mind,” Eloise said from behind her ski mask, “I could do with some fresh air and they know me. What do you hope to learn?” she added.

“Probably nothing,” Sam admitted, “but you never know what little thing turns out to be that one piece you need. Besides it is better than doing nothing.”

Eloise nodded in agreement. Atalanta projected an air of cool confidence and ancient wisdom that belied her tender years, but she felt uneasiness in this situation that logic failed to displace.

Sam too, was reviewing what she knew concerning Atalanta. She was Sam decided unique even among the mutants that came to Whateley. Atalanta was a mystery; a dichotomy of competing powers. Or else she was package deal mutant but not the typical physic that power testers were familiar with. No, hers was combining the Exemplar trait with a warrior spirit honed by centuries of conflict, and passed down through her DNA. A natural skill uniquely sharpened by training with Manny Black; a special operations soldier that specialized in controlled and lethal violence.

She knew families and bloodlines passed down blessings and curses to their offspring; her ancestors all had served and fought in almost every war for the last 500 hundred years. That heritage belonged to Atalanta as well; both her parents had served in the military.

That was the natural physical heritage that she inherited, but Sam also felt that Atalanta’s heritage included a spiritual or supernatural component. She felt that Atalanta’s recent birthmark was sufficient evidence by itself to draw that conclusion.

The unease that she felt was that this mystery smacked of an amateurish attempt that was buoyed by dumb luck. And dumb luck often was a person’s greatest opponent because you just couldn’t plan for it. In her experience that kind of luck needed to be pressed hard before it changed into good fortune or deep do-do for you.

She trailed Eloise who had turned off the street and up a drive that glistened smoothly from the flashlights they carried. A porch light came on as they trudged across it’s wooden planking. Seconds later more illumination sprang into action as the front door opened highlighting a man and a woman.

They looked to be in their 40’s, dark haired with the muddy complexion of the Medawihla tribe.

“Come in,” the woman greeted Eloise warmly stepping back to allow them passage.

“This is Samantha Everheart from security at the school, and she thought that Penny might know more than she thinks she does,” Eloise explained cleaning the snow from her shoes as Sam followed suit.

“Sam has more experience investigating these things,” Eloise continued once they were firmly inside.

“I’m older than I look,” Sam explained at their raised eyebrows.

“Sam this is Ralph and Penelope Beaufort,” Eloise added briefly as they followed the Beauforts into the kitchen.

Seated at the table was a girl with dark curly hair cut short in a page boy look with clear blue eyes. She contrasted sharply with Atalanta’s long athletic frame and quiet, confident, but oddly innocent air that she emanated.

Again she reflected on the mixed messages that Atalanta sent.

“Penny,” Sam began once they were introduced and sat down across from her, “I want you to start from right before you got to the site of the Devil’s run and try and recall with as much detail as you can everything that went on. From the foods you ate and the drinks you drank. I want you to relive the taste and the texture, the wind in your face, the names of the people you saw and talked with. Okay?”

Penny hesitantly began from when she arrived at the foot of the mountain, speaking sometimes in monotone at other times in breathless hurried bursts. Sam smiled while the grownups fidgeted before they retreated to another room.

“Wait,” Sam interrupted her, “did Atalanta say he ‘gave me the creeps’ or that he was creepy?”

Penny looking up and to the right sheepishly recalled, “It was me that said he gave me the creeps and Atalanta agreed that was the vibe that she got too from him.”

“No biggie,” Sam assured her, “But can you describe for me what makes Marty creepy? Is it the clothes he wears, what he says or does, or who his friends are?”

“No I don’t think it is any of those things,” Penny mused, “it’s not what he says; its how he says it. He’s around when you don’t want him to be.”

“Like a stalker?”

“No a stalker is personal to one person; Marty seems to be just around every corner to almost all the girls and he seems to have this smile that he is laughing at your expense. He makes me wonder if I have something on my teeth or toilet paper stuck to my shoe.”

“Okay I’ve got it. Go on. What happened next?”

Penny continued her narrative until Atalanta left their table and went to retrieve her coat.

“Are you sure,” Sam interjected, “Are you sure,” she asked again leaning forward on her elbows, “that she carried her drink with her to get her coat.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Finally, Sam had something concrete to investigate; the drink cup might have been trashed but it was equally true that it might not have been seen and was still where Atalanta left it.

“Thank you Penny,” Sam smiled, “you’ve been a big help.”

Eloise and Penny’s parents had gathered back around the table after wandering off.

“You find something,” Eloise inquired as she came to stand beside Sam, and the Beauforts beside their daughter.

“A long shot, but I’ve had long shots that have paid off before. I need to get into the meeting hall tonight.”

“I can let you in.”

“Do you mind?”

“Not really,” Eloise replied shrugging into her coat adding, “we have to go outside anyway to get home.”

Sam got into her cold weather gear, thanking Penny and her parents as she followed Eloise outside in the cold and the snow. The snow approaching knee depth on their way over was now above knee deep. If the snow kept falling it soon would be too deep for ordinary foot travel; requiring snowshoes, skis, a snowmobile, or four-wheel drive vehicles.

The town hall at the town square had its own courtyard flanked on each side by municipal services and the police station. Retrieving her key Eloise unlocked the door and turned the lights on flooding the interior. The cavernous interior empty now was making their voices and footsteps loud and heavy.

The coat rack was to the left of the door, beside it a small round table, and on it, a single plastic cup. Sam sniffed its contents and tasted it, “Hive analyze any ingredients not normally found in soft drinks.”

“ 3,4-methylenedioxy-methamphetamine, 3,4,5-trimethoxyphenethylamine , and 1-phenylpropan-2-amine.”
Hive supplied the relevant information; MDMA, Ecstacy, and Mescaline!

Sam straightened, her fingers tightening around the cup, “This drink has drugs in it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, we need to get back and show this to Chief Mayor,” Sam replied already in motion towards the door.

“That Dustin Bull that was here, where was he from?” Sam asked as they waded back through the snow..

“Dustin,” Eloise frowned, “What’s he got to do with this?”

“Maybe nothing, but that drink had mescaline in it, and mescaline has mind altering properties that have a high degree of use in the desert southwest.”

“He is from the Arizona/ California area,” Eloise replied and added, “but we expelled him.”

“That you did,” Sam agreed, “but how do you know he left?”

Eloise’s answer was long in coming, “By our honor code,” but Eloise knew as soon as the words were said that it was a system with no enforcement teeth. The remainder of the trip was spent in silence.

Seated at the Donner kitchen table Chief Mayor, Ben, Eloise, Sam, and Gregg Boone, a member of Whateley security that Delarose insisted on, discussed what the drugged drink meant for finding Atalanta.

“It is your opinion that Dustin didn’t leave when ordered to - that he wanted revenge, and that he recruited Marty to help him.”

Sam nodded her head in agreement.

“Why? What reward could Dustin offer Marty that he’d risk his life here for it?” Mayor argued.

“I don’t know,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth, “But what I do know is Atalanta’s drink was spiked, and that she and Marty are missing. Whether or not Marty had anything to do with that, the fact remains that in this weather they are both at risk and need to be found as quickly as possible.”

“That we can agree on,” Joe returned and turning to a subordinate gave additional instructions to the trackers.

One of those trackers, Lou LaRue, was several miles east of the village cutting signs through the forest northward. LaRue left the grid searchers to their maps, coordinates, pins, and protocols while he loaded his gear onto Homer his burro. His one concession was the radio to stay in touch. From the search headquarters he traveled directly east following the road to Dunwich, sacrificing haste for observation.
Intimately familiar with the wilds of New England, and especially the Medawihla Reservation, Lou pushed as hard as he dared for two hours before he began to look for signs. It was another thirty minutes before he stopped and led Homer south into the forest where the ridgeline ran farther east at a northerly angle before intersecting with the Dunwich road a couple of miles ahead. If Atalanta had come easterly they would have to follow the ridgeline and come past where he stood.

He judged that he had traveled fast and far enough that if anyone taken this route their sign would be visible. He didn’t find any sign which he expected, but he needed to cross it off his list. He then proceeded to backtrack to the road before crossing it to travel north into the woods. His destination was an old logging road passable by foot or by four wheel drive vehicles. It cut sideways across the terrain meeting with a series of other logger trails before entering Canada and joining with a road similar to the Dunwich road.

Lou knew too that along that trail was a line cabin; a cabin that was used by loggers for restocking, and lost hunters or hikers for rescue. If there was a kidnapping, and if they came this way, he expected that they would use that road and most likely be holed up in the cabin overnight. Locating that cabin in the dark and in a snowstorm was an almost impossible task but then he didn’t need to find the cabin; only find and follow their sign. The snow seemed to be slackening and a look to the skies revealed thinning clouds to the north and west with one lonely dim star peeking through. The bulk of the front had moved through their area and what were left were intermittent snow bands.

He heard its labored breathing long before the jalopy came into sight, it’s twin headlights cutting across the slick smooth surface. Lou was thankful he had not chosen to cross the road. He watched from the cover as the clunker plowed through the snow covered roadway. He chuckled as he walked from the forest and in the wake of the receding automobile.

“Homer,” He told the burro, “wasn’t it nice of them folks to break trail for us.” The donkey brayed agreement or it could have been annoyance at being roused from his warm stall. Donkey brays were all pretty similar, so the bray could have just been a bray.
Lou patted Homer’s neck fondly, “I agree,” he laughed while fishing out his phone and following in the car tracks.

“Yo, Joe, Lou here, they just passed by me,” he greeted the Chief by name. “Yeah,” he added when asked for details, “The sawmill road, I saw three of them, and no, I couldn’t identify any of them, but the vehicle did look like Mark’s.”

Lou was told to follow it discreetly; not to engage, but only to observe and that Joe would be along with reinforcements after daylight.

Lou acknowledged the direction and hung up frowning.

Lou and Homer made good time now that they were following a plowed trail, but as the terrain became steeper and route more treacherous, he was left walking between the tire tracks rather than face the packed snow that had refrozen.

He almost missed where they had turned off the road; the turnoff was at a dip, and in a series of switchbacks that slipped behind a rock formation into a grove of spruce with a smattering of hardwood.

Surprisingly the turnoff was flat and broad and because it was protected by the overhanging branches, there was little accumulation here. Suddenly, as if a switch was thrown the forest retreated leaving a large clearing directly in his path. A cabin peeked out from under the trees at the far end surrounded by several types of vehicles. The car he had been following was parked directly in front of the cottage and less than 30 yards away. The three men were close enough that their voices carried clearly, and if not gathered about the trunk and facing away would have easily seen him.

What happened next was the stuff of legends told around campfires.

What the rescuers find when the morning comes. Probably some more campfire tales!

This chapter ends this second book. The next one is being written. I want to thank Bill and Asheligh for their help and to those that PM'd me. I also want to thank everyone for reading and your comments.

Chapter 31

I awoke to total darkness while being jostled from side to side suspended in a mental limbo. Awareness crept back to me in sluggish stages. My first thought was this wasn’t my bed, and where was Mom? Then I remembered Whateley and finally staying at the Donner household. But I didn’t recall their bed being this hard or cold or metallic; I was laying on my side in a fetal position. Fleeting images of a spinning house tumbled through my mind. While this certainly wasn’t Kansas, I was sure I wasn’t Dorothy, neither was I in a tornado or even a house.

Where the hell was I?

I discovered in trying to look at my surroundings that my hands and feet were zip tied. I was gagged and blindfolded with my hands tied behind me.

Again: Where the hell was I?

Better question: Who was I? With that question a name popped into focus, Atalanta Reid. Yeah that name fit; it felt right. I’m Atalanta Reid. That realization seemed to open the floodgates and I was no longer drifting in limbo; I now had an anchor to springboard from.

Opening my senses I detected a barely audible buzz of conversation coming from behind my head. Coupled with the hiss of air below me and of the feel from a rubbery textured surface beneath my fingers came the realization that I was in the trunk of a moving car.

In the trunk of a car, bound, gagged and blindfolded!

Panic threatened to seize control of me.

Automatically I fell back on the meditative training that I had been taught. Breathe … deep, one-two-three-four and repeat; one-two-three-four...

I retreated back to what I knew; I’m Atalanta Reid and I’m a 14 year old mutant at Whateley staying with Medawihla Indians during Christmas. I had just given an exhibition run on the Devils Washboard and afterwards celebrated with eating and drinking. Was that yesterday or last night or was this the same night? There was something about drinking that seemed important. But what was it?

Why was extracting logical constructs from my mind like pulling shoes from a muddy field. Giggling I realized that that thought was a logical construct. The sputtering from the car’s exhaust forced its way past the abstract; the vehicle’s exhaust gases were leaking into the trunk and possibly into the passenger compartment. Carbon dioxide will put you to sleep and then kill you.

I needed to escape and fast!

Curling into a tighter ball I brought my knees tightly against my breasts and slowly passed my hands over my feet until they were now in front. I then removed the blindfold and gag spitting it free. Pulling up my pants leg I felt for the knife sheathed there and breathed a sigh of relief when I felt the handle. Holding it firmly in my fist I slowly pulled the knife free and moments later used it to cut my feet loose and then clamping it firmly between my knees and quickly sawing through the plastic zips that bound my hands.

Pausing to catch my breath I considered my next step. From the vehicle sounds and feeling the flimsy material separating the trunk from the occupant compartment I realized that I could kick my way into the backseat. However, that might cause us to wreck and I had no desire to crash off a mountain top.

A more pressing concern was eliminating the threat of carbon monoxide poisoning. I gripped my knife firmly and carefully switched positions where my head was now at the rear of the car. Removing the taillights from their sockets using the knife handle I carefully knocked the taillight lenses out to allow in fresh air.

Suddenly an idea occurred from out of the blue and I scratched the insulation from one of the lamps. I discovered through trial and error which two wires to short out to produce light from the bulbs. I used the light to explore the trunk’s interior; finding a tire tool that might be helpful.
Remembering a problem Daddy had with the trunk on one of his cars I scooted around to study the rods that provided tension against the lock and stabilized the trunk hinges. The rods crisscrossed each other being anchored in a slot on the opposite end and thus providing maximum tension when closed and less as it was opened.

Securing the sharpened end of the tire iron in an adjacent metal structure, I used the tire iron to pry the end loose from its slot. Being careful to ease it free I was mindful that the potential power wrapped up in it could break bones if released at once. I almost let the second rod escape as we suddenly began a steeper climb as the tire iron was almost ripped from my grasp. I regained control and quickly lowered it to the floor.
As I lay on my back and looking upward my eyes locked onto the curved hinges and I immediately began the tire iron to twist and weaken them. I was hoping that when the trunk lock was opened they’d assume the weight of the snow was why it didn’t spring open and therefore gather around to help brush away the snow. I smiled at the resulting image.

I scooted into position where my legs were coiled against my body and the soles of my boots firmly against the trunk lid’s structure. With my back braced against the trunk’s floor I was poised to shove the lid violently open.

I could feel mental acuity returning as I lay in the trunk. With fresh air replacing the exhaust fumes the effects of the drugs began to wear off. I then noticed the top of my blouse was unbuttoned and that my bra was twisted to one side.

My first instincts was shame and to cover up; the second was white hot rage. But after corralling those intrinsic actions I began to feverishly take stock of what happened at the party.

Marty!

I remembered the creepy feeling that I got from him. It had been so powerful that my immediate response was to seek the company of other females for support and validation.

Cold reality then struck me down to my core.

Marty had spiked my drink!

The other girls and I weren’t reading intentions we were reading actions! In other words I was not the first girl he had drugged.
But I was damned sure going to be the last!

As that thought trickled through me; another more powerful one replaced it, justice. I’d expose the rat that he was, removing his shield of anonymity to the village, and especially the girls.

My course charted I settled in to wait and to marshal my strength, mentally rehearsing my actions when we stopped and the trunk was unlocked. I didn’t have to wait long as I felt us slowing down.. A thin, feral grin appeared on my lips as I lay in wait. Soon after, the car came to a stop with the brakes protesting. Scant seconds later the car doors opened and slammed closed. I counted three distinct sounds as the doors closed.

I caught snatches of conversation and a curse as one slipped in the snow. I counted three separate voices. I followed them in my mind as they traveled the car’s length and rounded to the rear. I waited calmly both relaxed and poised to spring as the key turned in the lock.

“Damn, guys I could use some help with this; the snow is weighting it down.”

I heard some jeering and soft crunch of footfalls in snow as they moved to help lift the trunk lid. As the lock cleared the retaining plate and a sliver of light shone through I uncoiled my legs and struck the underside of the metal lid with all the explosive power coiled in my body and legs.

Modern collision design theory holds that forces are dissipated through the vehicle’s body and frame, using overlapping angles to direct impacts. My sideways torsion with the tire iron had deformed the hinges allowing the hinge bolts to loosen.

The trunk exploded up and out sending a shower of snow skyward, the flakes reflecting pinpoints of light from a moon that shown through a break in the clouds. I heard the cries of surprise and saw the three bodies stagger backwards. Possibly because of a production flaw or because of unequal force applied, the passenger side hinge held while the left side began to strip its threads. As the lid bounced off the roof panel and came wobbling down, my foot met it again with all my force directed at the weakened hinge. The strained and weakened joint let loose with the lid spinning off to my left; hanging awkwardly on the passenger side but tethered to the car by one twisted hinge.

I stood up in the back of the car, the tire iron forgotten in one hand staring out at the three men on their backs laid out in a semicircle before me. Marty was on my left and Dustin Bull spread-eagled straightaway with an unknown male on my left. I tasted and felt the fine mist from the snow falling back to earth. The full moon was now spotlighting the natural amphitheatre with the majestic conifers acting as witnesses.

“Now I know who orchestrated this little party,” I drawled evenly, staring down at the Were moose. He lay still; too shocked and stunned to move.

“Speak up boys or I’ll think you’re not glad to see me,” I sneered placing a booted foot on the shelf that supported the tail lamps and leaned forward.

They scooted away on their backsides before scrambling to their feet. I had counted on their reaction and immediately jumped to the ground facing them, poised on the balls of my feet ready to strike. I took three steps to my left as they countered with three of their own to my right. I stopped, and they did as well with one accord. Smiling I moved to my right and they followed suit.

Suddenly all time and motion ceased, suspended as if held in a separate space. In that moment of not-time I became an observer looking at myself from a view from behind the guys. Suddenly it was if I saw what they saw, felt what they felt, and thought like they thought. Just as quickly time snapped back to normal and I was again looking out from my body.

“Boys you invited me to this dance, but,” I added grinning with my eyes flashing, “this is a come as you are affair. If you try to make it a costume ball I’ll think you are trying to embarrass me. I wouldn’t like that …at all. In fact I’ll probably have a temper tantrum and throw things …and break things,” I added flatly.

“That’s not fair,” the unidentified male on my left whined, “we are no match for you in this form.”

“I got news for you; you’re no match for me in your Were forms either, but go ahead test me if you’re feeling lucky,” I replied.

He suddenly threw up his hands, palms facing outward, “I’m out ‘a here. I didn’t want any part of this to start with.” He continued to back away apologizing for his part.

“And then they were two,” I turned to Marty and Dustin, “but our dances were interrupted before the music stopped. Not to worry though I brought my own arrangement this time,” I laughed tossing the tire iron at Dustin’s head.

Dustin instinctively reached for it and as he did so I slipped under his outstretched hand, hitting him with a left under his arm and behind his left breast; on his unprotected ribs. The resultant thud and whoosh knocked the air from his lungs and cracked some ribs. His legs buckled and he sat down hard on his ass. A harder blow would have broken his ribs and punctured a lung, or his heart. I wanted him out of the fight not dead.

“And then there was one,” I announced picking up the tire iron and twirling it like a baton advancing on Marty who circled warily.
Like a hawk I advanced, amused as he divided his attention between the twirling metal baton and me. My reflexes were incredibly quick and I seemed to be in a zone where I could read his reactions even as he decided. After the first half dozen blows to his face connected, I stopped.

“Marty confession is good for the soul … and body. You can stop this anytime.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he blustered between swollen lips.

Splat, the sound of a right jab connecting with bone immediately followed.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” he wheezed, whipping away blood dripping from a nostril.

“Oww,” he cried as I threw another left to his ribs.

“Okay I confess,” he moaned.

“Confess to what,” I snarled.

“To taking advantage of the girls.”

“By drugging them?”

He shook his head, “yes.”

I caught a movement from a corner of my eye and whirled around as an old man stepped from the trees. He was leading a burro and propelling the third man forward.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“I’m part of search and rescue team sent to find you. But,” he paused looking from Dustin to Marty and at the third party member he had captured, “I’m not sure who needed rescuing here. My name is Lou La’Rue.”

“Mind repeating that,” I returned smiling softly.

“Lou …Touché,” he chuckled, “but what was he confessing to?”

“You want to tell him Marty,” I asked and added when he hung his head, “Marty here drugged my drink. Some kind of date rape drug I suspect and I wasn’t the first girl he tried it on either, was I Marty?”

His silence spoke volumes.

“What now,” I asked Lou.

“We wait I guess. Chief Mayor said he’d send backup after it got light.”

We found some rope and tied the men up in the cabin then Lou went outside and cared for his animal; placing it in the lean-to beside the cabin.

Afterwards I found the cell that Sam had given me in my pocket that I’d turned off.

“Shit,” I exclaimed turning the phone on, “Sam will have my hide, I was supposed to call in yesterday.”

I punched in Sam’s number, “Hello?”

“Sam, it’s me …”

“Atalanta, are you all right? Where are you?”

“I’m fine but I have a couple of guys here that might need medical attention.”

There was silence before Sam asked, “What happened to them?”

Oh, that,” I replied breezily, “They wanted to dance and didn’t understand the rules.”

“Well where are you?”

“In a cabin somewhere, here let me ask Lou where we are at.”

I relayed the directions from Lou to Sam who said they’d be here about daybreak.

“Has anybody called Mom.” I asked hesitantly.

“Ha-ha-ha, Superwoman is afraid of Momma.”

“You got that right; we all have our kryptonite,” I admitted, “does Mrs. Carson know.”

“Yeah Delarose called her.”

“You want me to call her too?” I replied blithely.

Sam laughed easily in my ear, “no I don’t, but good try though. Do call Mrs. Donner.”

I promised I would, hung up and called Eloise Donner.

The tendrils of darkness clung stubbornly at the edges of the horizon resisting the relentless dawning of a new day. Broken clouds, gusting winds, snow showers with orange and black streaks of sunshine greeted the caravan as it turned off the Sawmill road onto the opening that lead to the cabin location. In the lead Dodge AWD van Sam rode beside Ben, in the back were Gregg and the medic Steve Burman. In the second Dodge rode Joe Mayor and two of his deputies with one of the trackers that they had picked up on the way in.

Joe had changed his mind at waiting for daylight when Sam had called him after she talked with Atalanta and learned that someone needed medical attention. Not knowing who needed help or how severe the need, Joe decided that as Police Chief his presence was warranted. He had assembled a cobbled together posse and left as soon as possible, and by pushing his driver they had caught up with Ben and Sam a few hundred yards short of the turnoff.

As they pulled into the clearing Sam whistled in surprise, Ben braked suddenly and the driver of the second van swung wide to avoid plowing into the back of the lead vehicle.

“It’s easy to tell where Atalanta has been,” Sam noted dryly. Eight pairs of eyes silently looked at the scene laid out on the forest coliseum floor. The rear end of the older model heap faced them, with it’s empty taillight lenses staring like empty eye sockets in the harsh light. The trunk lid tilted crazily; held aloft by one twisted hinge that seemed to shiver in the chill wind.

Getting out of their vehicles, closer inspection revealed the snow was packed in places and in others held bodily impressions amid crimson stains. There was a huge dent in the roof panel where apparently the trunk lid had bounced off.

Sam picked up a tire iron that was lying in the snow, tossing it aside when it was obviously free of organic material.

The bray of a donkey carried on the morning air and greeted them.

They were greeted at the door by Lou, the old trapper who stepped aside to let them in. The cabin was one room, separated by a sleeping portion cordoned off with curtains. A stone fireplace, probably measuring three feet square, occupied half the back wall with a cauldron suspended over dying embers. Nearby was a half filled wood box.

In the center of the room stood a wooden table with a pair of wooden benches and scattered about three hewn chairs covered with hickory strips seats. At a far corner Atalanta sat in a chair propped against the wall, her boots hooked lazily in the bottom chair rung.
Moans drew their attention to the cordoned area where three men were bound together on the bunk. The person in the middle was unmarked; on the left Dustin was clearly favoring his left side and breathing raggedly. Marty nearest to them looked like his face had had contact with a wildcat. One eye was black and swollen almost shut; his nose lay at an angle and was obviously broken. Both cheekbones and lips were cut and swollen.

Sam eyed the devious method that they were tied up in, knowing this was Atalanta’s handiwork; recalling Manny’s telling of the manner in which Atalanta had trussed the desert bandits.

Marty and Dustin had their inside hands tied together the rope running behind the back of the middle guy. Marty’s left hand was tied to the right hand of the middle guy while Dustin’s right hand was connected to left hand of the middle guy in a crisscross manner. Their feet were tied in a similar overlapping manner that resulted in limited movement but left the trio unable to coordinate any efforts to free themselves.

Sam almost felt sorry for them.

Almost.

I was in the parlor of the Donner household the day after Christmas, talking with Eloise, Darcy, Penny, and Vicki. Marty had decided confession was indeed good for the soul and the Medawihla tribe was going to deal with him internally while Dustin was being held for his western band to pick him up. They were both in the infirmary under guard, recuperating. Dale Sherman the third guy had been blackmailed into it or so he said.

I left the politics to the politicians.

I had just returned from the barn to feed and water Blackie, the Morgan gelding I had ridden two days ago. Of course while I was sorting his oats and brushing his coat I had brought him up to date on the Christmas Day Massacre as I had internally dubbed it.

“Blackie do you think it was them you caught wind of that day we went riding,” he stopped his chewing to give that thought due consideration. After careful deliberation, he shook his head vigorously and went back to eating.

“Me neither,” I agreed.

I talked with him while continuing to clean his coat and he would occasionally pause from his eating, look up at me and shake his head or whinny. He seemed to understand what I was saying, or else he was enjoying the grooming.

“Blackie you big faker,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck, scratching behind his ears, “you be careful and I’ll see you when I can, but I don’t know when that’ll be.”

He nodded sagely.

I had then returned to the house to wait on Sam, when the girls had come by to talk.

They had come over to see me off and to apologize about forgetting me at the party. The girls were fascinating to me… I guess because they were typical teenagers. Darcy the smallest of the trio bubbled with emotion with her every thought or feeling registering in facial tics and her pupils opening and closing, her reactions emphasized by her bouncing pixie hairstyle.

Vicki, the next girl in height at 5’ 5” wore her dark hair long and braided. She was the most developed girl out of the three and was constantly smiling. Penny had the look of the poster girl for tomboy and she was the only one that wore pants.

They kept up a constant stream of chatter among giggles, exaggerated ‘uhs and ahs’ and interspersed with comments on this boy or that girl’s clothing or hairstyle choice. It unnerved me a bit that their conversation seemed to travel round robin style around the table, and at times it seemed three different threads were discussed while commenting on the one off odd items, and all this with Vicki filing her nails.

As I listened to their timeworn observations I became aware how far removed from the typical teenage behavior I was, and even more so from typical teenage female behavior. How much of that was due to carrying luggage across the gender divide I couldn’t guess. When the conversations turned to my drugging, capture, and escape my reply was typically reserved.

“I was lucky,” I explained at how I was able to escape my restraints, “I’m flexible and once I got my hands in front it was fairly easy to get loose. And then I just got into the heads of the guys and confused them,” I added, gently smiling. With that taciturn answer, they were soon on to toying with a new idea.

As they talked among themselves, I reflected back to yesterday when I had called Mom, wishing her a Merry Christmas. Talking to her I found out she was none the wiser about my Christmas Eve adventure. I’d keep quiet about it until I could tell her in person.

At my feet I had my duffel bag packed and I was ready for the trip back to the campus. Sam was due to arrive shortly in a school vehicle to drive me there, even though I protested I could find the way there.

“It is what else you’ll find that worries me,” she teased.

“You’re welcome in my home anytime Atalanta,” Eloise said after the girls left to go to their respective homes.

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” I returned dryly.

“No, not at all,” she laughed easily, “We’ve overcome bigger disasters than you.”

My reply was interrupted by Samantha knocking on the front door. Eloise rose from her seat to open the door, “You’re just in time,” she said to Sam.

“What has our hellion been up to now?” Sam responded, walking into the room where I was seated.

“Who, me?” I fluttered my eyes, “Somebody is telling lies on me.”

“Are you ready to go?”

I stood, turned to Eloise and embracing her whispered, “I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Not your fault,” she assured me as I picked up my duffel to follow Sam outside. The school’s van was parked outside; ironically it looked to be the same one that was supposed to pick me up at the train depot almost two weeks ago.

“Can I drive?”

“That’s not funny, get in.”

“Shotgun,” I called out needlessly opening the sliding door and placing my duffel bag on the floor before latching the door. I opened the passenger door and got in closing the door. Pulling the seatbelt I latched it in place while Sam took her place behind the wheel.

As we pulled out onto the road towards Dunwich I looked at Sam and pointed towards the distant town.

“Home, James.”